All language subtitles for En.therapie.S01E09.1080p.BluRay.DD+5.1.x264-SbR_track4_[eng]

- Were you smoking?
- No.

Yes, you were, I can smell it.
I know you.

- Just a quick drag.
- Just a quick drag?

It’s bad for the baby.

I barely even inhaled.

- That felt like an electric shock.
- Are you okay?

- Where?
- Here.

There?

- Did she move?
- She?

Yes, Jeanne.

No, Louise.

No, she’s a Chiara.

Françoise, maybe. Or Dominique?

Louise.

IN THERAPY

LÉONORA AND DAMIEN,
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 2015, 5 P.M.

Thank you, Doctor.

See you next week.

Come in.

I didn’t go to see my gynecologist.

After that horrible session last time,

we went home without saying a word,
completely depressed.

While Damien cooked,
I took care of Robin.

We played cards, which I hate.

But I needed to wipe out
the horrible things we said here.

Then Robin told me he was afraid...

that something would happen to us
and we’d all be split up.

I thought it was because
of our recent arguments.

The poor kid’s witnessed enough of them.

But no, he said he was afraid
that terrorists would kill us.

Damien and me.

And that he’d be left all alone.

That chilled me,
I didn’t know what to say.

Damien talked to him,
it was distressing.

What did you say?

That it’s normal to be afraid,

after what happened.

People killed other people with guns
but it’s over now,

the police killed all the bad men.

“But what if there are
more bad men?”

Damien said he’d protect us all.

That’s what dads do.

Well?

What do you think?

And you?

What do you think?

You’re the expert.

I’m sure you reassured him.

Then we went to bed
without arguing.

It was the first time in weeks.

Rather than playing with my phone,
I curled up in his arms.

We decided not to tear ourselves apart
over this pregnancy.

And that maybe we’d keep it.

I told her to be sure.
A child has to be wanted by its mother.

The next day I got up late.

I had the day off for my appointment
at the gynecologist’s.

Damien took Robin to school.
He let me lie in, that was nice.

I put my jeans on
and realized that I’d spread a bit.

It felt weird
but it didn’t distress me.

I thought about the abortion

and, finally, about the possibility
of having another child.

And you decided not to go
to your appointment?

I didn’t decide, I just didn’t go.

I didn’t want to go outside,

to walk in the street, in the cold,
among people.

When Damien got home, he asked me
how it went. I told him I didn’t go.

We haven’t discussed it since.
I need time to think.

I need to know what I really want.

Do you understand?

It’s a good thing
that you’ve both calmed down.

Let’s discuss this decision
or, rather, this indecision.

That’s how you’ve presented it to me.

I don’t think I want
to talk about it right now.

Let me put it another way.

Why does the decision now seem
less urgent? That’s paradoxical.

I don’t believe this!

It was you who put the pressure on me.
I have two weeks.

I can get another appointment.

I need to be calm,
to stop constantly thinking about it.

- She means we won’t come here again.
- Not necessarily.

- What does he think?
- We know.

I’d like your opinion.

- We agreed!
- Damien, please.

Why are you so skeptical?

I think it’s too early
to stop this work.

- His sales pitch again!
- Damien!

You aren’t really in agreement
about the pregnancy.

You’ve found a sort of truce,
but no more.

Maybe your sessions here
are helping this process.

What do you think?

I don’t know.

I don’t want to wave goodbye
to my career,

but I think
I could take care of a child too.

I know they’ll keep my job for me.

Maybe to start with
I could take on fewer cases.

After all, it’s my last chance to...

But I don’t know if I can...

Are you okay?

Excuse me.

Charlotte!

What is it?

How do I get rid of that bloodstain?

What happened?

She’s pregnant
and she started bleeding.

They’ve gone to the hospital.

Are you okay? You’re all pale.

Seeing that stain gave me a shock.
Can you give me a hand?

No, I have an urgent call to make.
There’s a problem with the conference.

I can’t receive patients with that.

Hang on.

Shit!

This should work, white vinegar.

I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

- Have you got a better one?
- Hydrogen peroxide.

Oh, yes!

How far gone is she?

About two months.

The poor woman.

Did something happen
in the session?

No, it was quite normal.

She was talking, she suddenly froze,
and I saw that she was bleeding.

- What if it doesn’t come out?
- Wait.

I don’t know.

I could try the hairdryer.

No, it’s okay, that’ll do.

Thanks.

You could change it.

- What?
- Your couch.

No.

Patients are sensitive to change.

No, you’re sensitive to change.

You could make the room more pleasant.

You’ve got all these books and folders
piled up.

If you’re going to sleep in here...

That was only a couple of times
last month,

so as not to wake you up.

You never used to care
about waking me up.

Why this sudden interest in my office?
I thought you hated it.

Know what the kids call this room?

One or the other always says,
“Dad’s in his grotto.”

You used to talk to me
about your patients, your work.

Now you say nothing.
It’s become a mysterious secret.

There’s nothing mysterious.

I see patients, I read and I write.

And look,

I change things now and then.
I swapped those two pictures around.

Thanks, Charlotte, you can go now.

You get me to clean your couch,

then get rid of me
as quickly as possible.

I’m just tired at the moment,
I’ll get over it.

I’ve been to see Esther.

- Esther? When?
- Last week.

- I needed to talk to someone.
- Esther?

Yes, Esther.

You gave up on her,
after she filled your head with poison.

“Poison”? I never said that.

I needed to talk.

These events have knocked me back,
just like they have for everyone.

Charlotte, you know I can’t talk to you.

Yes, of course I know you can’t.

You know what I mean.

Don’t make me justify it.
Esther knows me, it’s easier.

Why do you feel threatened by Esther?

Tell me.

Don’t talk to me like a patient.

Whatever I do,
it’s never good enough for you.

You no longer talk
to anyone in your own home.

You’re like a hermit.

All you ever want
is to be in your grotto.

You don’t see me,
you don’t see the kids.

We’re invisible, ghosts. Even Adam.

- Here we go again.
- What “again”?

You can’t wait to blame me for making
Adam go to the local state school.

I’m talking about your absence,

and there you go
with your civic-duty lecture!

Swear to me
you weren’t working up to that.

You want him
to go to Saint-Séverin,

like all the lefties who end up
putting their kids in private schools.

Admit it!

I’m angry with you for not noticing
how stressed he is.

Why do you say that?

He told me, as simple as that.

He’s unhappy there.

He hates it, he has no friends.

He’ll make some.
It’s still only November.

Adam’s always been slow
to adapt to a new environment.

When he started at Bonsergent
he cried for two months.

I know because I took him.
I didn’t blame you for not doing so.

But he’s not a little boy any more.
And the environment is different.

You mean all those Arabs?

How can you suspect that of me?

He’s not like the other kids.

He doesn’t like football or scrapping,
he hates tracksuits and trainers.

I asked him who he played with
during break.

He said he preferred reading.

That’s good,

if he prefers reading.

He’s withdrawn.

That’s what it means.

I don’t want him
being miserable at school.

If you must know,
this week he heard something

which shocked him.

A kid said,
“It’s all the fault of the Jews.”

Was it aimed at him?

No, I don’t think so.

I called the school,
they said they’d call in the parents.

But the fact remains
that Adam is stressed.

And the worst bit
is that he asked me not to tell you.

Your own son.

You’ve convinced him
he’s less important than your work,

that his worries matter less
than those of your patients.

Okay, I’ll have a word with him,
I promise.

But Liza?

What about Liza?

Is she okay?

Yes, why?

What exactly
is this “street art” workshop?

Is it a local council thing
or a private initiative?

What do you want to know?

Nothing in particular,

I’m just wondering
if it’s right for her.

I don’t see her revising much.

What’s she doing
with those people?

I don’t know if it’s in the street
or in premises somewhere...

You know what, Philippe?
Ask her yourself!

Now we’re going to get into one
about Liza!

I don’t want to argue.

Why does it always end up
like this?

What do you hold against me?

Do I repulse you?

That’s exactly the impression I get.

Not at all.

What makes you say that?

You don’t look at me,
you don’t talk to me.

What do you want us to talk about?
Tell me.

I’m seeing someone.

A shrink, you mean?

Another man.
You’re no longer with me.

Stop that! I’m here, I’m at home.

Don’t look for excuses.
What do you mean, “another man”?

I mean it quite literally,
no deeper meaning.

Who is he? Do I know him?

- No.
- Who is he?

- Just someone I’m seeing.
- “Seeing” how?

Must I spell it out?

- Who is he?
- What difference does it make?

It’s important to me.

He’s divorced, he has two kids,

he works at the European Parliament.

My being married turns him on.
Happy now?

- Where do you meet?
- What difference does it make?

Stop saying that!
Where do you see him?

- At his place.
- In Strasbourg?

- In Strasbourg?
- Yes.

You go there, then what?

I don’t know, I go to his place.

You go to Strasbourg,

supposedly to arrange
this conference about Descartes,

then sneak off to see
some asshole parliamentarian.

I really am arranging that conference.

We met on the train.

You think that’s an excuse?

Tell me truth!
You go to his place, then what?

I want to know
what we’re talking about!

Rather than having to imagine,

I want you to tell me. Everything.

What happens?
I want to know everything.

What? That I don’t even stay an hour,
then I go back to my hotel?

What exactly do you want to know?

That I wonder as I’m getting dressed
what I’m doing there?

That I feel like a 20-year-old?

That I tell myself each time
that it’s the last?

He talks differently,
his body is different,

he’s unpredictable...
Maybe that’s why I desire him.

Going back to the hotel,
I still hear his voice,

I still feel his kisses and his touch.
Is that what you wanted to know?

Then you come home, after fucking him,
as if nothing were amiss. How...

How do you do that?

You want to know that too?
I feel dirty!

I’m disgusted with myself!

But the following week he calls me,
he talks to me, and I go back. Yes!

You must know how that is,
your patients must talk about it.

You can be proud of yourself.

You’ve ruined any chance
of fixing our marriage.

You think that’s why I told you?
To ruin any chance of fixing it?

Can’t you see it’s the opposite?

I’ve tried to tell you in so many ways,
but you don’t listen!

You don’t notice a thing.

It never even occurred to you
that this might happen to me.

So what do you expect from me now,

after dumping all that shit
right here in my office?

Will you see him again?

- Will you see him again?
- That depends on you.

Get out.

Now.

I’ve... dreamed about Cécile again.