Original subtitles

ELISA, MY LOVE

I hadn't seen my father for years,

nor had I really missed him.

I almost never wrote him...

just a few postcards to say I was fine,

and that Antonio and I sent our love.

I didn't want to see him sick,

struggling to recover from a recent operation.

At the time, my marriage was in crisis...

Well, one of a series of crises.

When I got my sister's telegram,

telling me of his illness,

and then an anxious call from my family

that revealed how serious it was,

I decided to go to Madrid.

Selfishly speaking,

finally I had an excuse to get away from home

and calmly reflect upon my own situation.

As I got further away from Antonio,

I realized I couldn't go back

to the man with whom I'd spent 7 years.

I left, I now realize, knowing I'd never return.

A very cozy pIace to Iive.

You can't imagine the winter.

Remember Iast Christmas, JuIian?

We froze to death.

It's unbearabIe.

-Even with the heater on. -Mom, he's not here.

-What do you mean? -No!

How strange.

One day he'II give us a reaI fright.

Dad?

At Ieast he's not iII.

-IsabeI? -Yes.

Look. Over here.

This was here.

''Be right back''.

Thank God.

I was worried...

He's so isoIated here.

Not even a phone.

What if he get's sick? You know what he says?

Better to die aIone than in bad company.

Where's the oId man?

You couId show a IittIe respect.

The ''oId man'' Ieft a note. I was worried.

There's nothing to worry about.

-Where do I put this? -In the kitchen,

where eIse?

I'm tired.

Put it in the fridge.

No, in the freezer.

Or it won't be coId.

I can see why he never Iocks the door.

Nothing to steaI.

IsabeI.

Can't you ever reIax?

Can't you heIp?

See if there are any more dirty dishes.

No.

Can't you Ieave her aIone?

Stop washing things for once.

It's easy for us. We can surprise him.

Do what you want. I need some fresh air.

Come on, heIp me!

Jacobo! Arantxa!

Daddy! Come and pIay!

My fatigue is that of someone...

My fatigue is that of someone going nowhere.

But where was I going?

What was my goal?

Maybe it was all just an illusion.

I can't say I've been deceived,

because I was party to the deception.

Only now do I realize

that the things I've learned,

although mostly worthless,

but which gave my life meaning...

I've reached the point...

where they are no longer of use to me.

Now this man I see in the mirror

wants to begin a new life,

without rejecting his past.

This man has nothing.

Neither youth nor physical charm,

nor does he feel that he's found truth,

but simply believes that life itself

is it's own reward.

This man hasn't even the confidence

to partake of those joys said to come with maturity.

This man, stumbling awkwardly along his path,

has resigned himself

to begin a new life.

And the only

obstacle in his path

is the fear

that it's already too late.

-Look... -Grandpa!

What a surprise! Hi Arantxita!

Jacobo!

-Hi, Luis. How are you? -Hi, Dad!

We brought a surprise.

-Hi. -Hi!

Remember the song? One, two, three...

Grandpa...

-What do you say? -Happy birthday!

-Hi. -Happy birthday.

-I'm stuck! -Yes, you are!

Very good, very good.

-Did we surprise you? -Did you ever!

Pass me that bread?

Did you see that?

Let's have a toast.

To Luis, and many happy years to come.

Thank you.

-Happy birthday. -Thanks.

-Happy birthday. -Thanks.

-Happy birthday. -Thank you, EIisa.

-Good champagne... -It's great.

-May we be excused? -Go ahead.

Go outside and pIay.

-Can I ride the bike? -Sure.

-Stay in the yard. -Why?

Because!

Don't Iaugh. ChiIdren need discipIine.

Because!

When they grow up...

No, no, no. It's your birthday.

We'II wash up.

Have a seat, JuIian.

-More? -Yes, pIease.

It's a speciaI day.

What a great meaI.

There's nothing Iike

a good impromptu Iunch.

-And the pat�... -DeIicious.

From Strasburg.

It's superb.

But the fresh pat� in Paris...

Perigord.

Cigarette?

-No, no. I gave it up. -StiII?

I reaIIy don't know why.

Here.

Who gets to serve the coffee?

-Remember? -Yes.

No, Iet me.

When we were IittIe

we fought over who poured the coffee.

Cheater.

You aIways Ioved coffee.

Your mother used to put it in your miIk.

Sugar?

-No, thanks. -I Iove coffee.

CouId I...?

I just Iove coffee.

-I couId drink it aII day. -Want some?

That's why you toss and turn.

Last night you wouIdn't shut up.

She aIso taIks.

-ReaIIy? -What did I say?

I don't know, but you had fun!

You were Iaughing.

Thank God.

I aIways have the same dream.

What is it?

WeII...

I dream...

we're back in Madrid, in Mom's house...

weII, in Mom and Dad's house,

and nothing has changed.

The same paintings, the same tabIe,

the same waInut sideboard...

and on the sideboard,

the siIver tray,

with the siIver tea set.

It was aIways there...

It's a very bright day,

and the Iight comes through the window in such a way...

I can't expIain it.

It's aImost bIinding...

refIecting off aII the siIver.

Then I get this strange feeIing...

I can't describe it...

It's as if everything were aIive.

I don't know...

The teapot,

and the cups...

they begin to shake...

to quiver. But not exactly, no...

it's... I can't explain it, but...

we're... all sitting around the table.

Dad, Mom, and I...

-What about me? -You're there, too.

Mom and Dad are all dressed up.

Dad's wearing a suit

and a tie.

Mom...

Mom's wearing one of her Liberty dresses.

And you...

I can't remember.

We've just eaten.

Suddenly I look up,

and the chandelier

also starts

to tremble, to vibrate

ever so slightly...

Everything is shaking, and quivering...

It must have been an earthquake.

I was in one once, and I remember aII the furniture

and aII the dishes shook Iike crazy.

The paintings feII off the waIIs.

It wasn't Iike that.

It's hard to expIain.

It's as if everything...

were throbbing... I can't say.

-What happens then? -Nothing. I wake up.

The tea set wasn't siIver.

Wasn't it?

It was porceIain with bIue fIowers. Remember?

I vagueIy remember. Wasn't it bIue?

Dad!

It was white porceIain...

-with an ovaI mirror... -That's it.

The chandeIier had those funny arms...

and tiny prisms hanging from it.

What were they caIIed?

-Spiders. -Spiders.

Your mother insisted on hanging that thing.

It was a wedding gift I aIways hated.

I Iiked it.

IsabeI, we shouIdn't stay too Iate.

WeII... whenever you think we shouId go.

In a IittIe whiIe. HaIf an hour.

I have a big day tomorrow.

A big case.

I'm totaIIy swamped.

Dad, where's the photo aIbum I gave you?

In my workroom.

-Can I get it? -Sure.

It's with my fiIes

on the Ieft.

-Are you coming? -Yes.

What's this important case?

It's worth a fortune.

Expropriated Iand,

tax evasion.

We'II uncover quite a scandaI.

It's time the Iaw

be appIied to everyone.

You beIieve in those Iaws. I don't.

You avoid reaIity.

Whose reaIity? Yours? Your wife's? Or mine?

That's not what I mean.

The reaIity of society, formed by individuaIs

who accept the ruIes of survivaI.

And who decides?

What does it matter?

Common sense, history, peopIe...

Sorry, but I don't beIieve that.

My point is, these ruIes must exist for everyone.

Those ruIes are destroying humanity.

I've reached the concIusion

now that I think about it, that I'd Iike to go back.

To forget everything I've Iearned. Reading, math...

-Even the aIphabet. -ImpossibIe.

Maybe impossibIe, but I'd Iike to.

Those Iaws and ruIes can drive men insane.

Didn't you read about that guy in the paper?

Some poor beIiever who couIdn't take anymore,

shut himseIf up in his room for 6 or 7 hours,

and the poIice shot him.

Even worse, people wanted him shot.

It's a terrible symptom...

Proof that despite these laws and rules,

human nature is vindictive.

Always seeking revenge.

Something's wrong with your rules

when a sick man is shot down like a dog

and his own neighbors called for his death!

There it is.

Look. White with fIowers.

-And here. -You're right.

You see?

The soup server was siIver.

Photography reaIIy frightens me.

Why?

I don't know.

It's Iike a miracIe...

to see yourseIf in the past.

That's me.

Who's that?

Mom's cousin.

That's right.

That pIace...

Our cave was there.

-Remember? -Yes, back there.

Nobody came in without the password.

What was it?

Toe-toe-toe...

-BIue duck. -Toe-toe-toe bIue duck.

Yes.

How are things with JuIian?

Fine.

Like everyone, I guess. Good days, bad days...

Why do you ask?

I sensed a bit of tension

between you two.

Why?

When he said you taIked in your sIeep,

you Iooked worried.

As if you're hiding something.

WeII, I am hiding something.

ReaIIy.

You're happy?

Yes.

You Iove him?

Very much.

Anyway,

your turn now...

What's wrong with you?

I have no idea.

I don't know.

I have to make a decision...

and I can't.

I don't know.

-Jacobo, Arantxa. -What?

Get your things, we're Ieaving.

-Here. -Thanks.

-Goodbye. Give me a kiss. -Okay.

Goodbye, Dad. I mean Grandpa.

-Goodbye. -Bye. Take care.

Thanks. It was a IoveIy day.

Why don't you stay with me a few days, EIisa?

-What? -If you don't have other pIans.

I was going to IsabeI's for a few days.

Don't worry, go on.

-ReaIIy? -Her bag's in the car.

JuIian, get EIisa's bag. She's staying.

-Let me. -I won't be a nuisance?

Of course not! WiII you stay?

-Yes. -WonderfuI!

Come on, we can beat the traffic. Bye, Luis.

Goodbye.

-Bye. -See you Iater.

Bye, JuIian. Thanks.

-Goodbye. -Bye.

ShaII I show you around?

-You're not tired? -No.

WeII, there isn't much to see, but I Iike it.

I take my waIk around this time.

-Is it reIigious? -No.

WeII?

It's a Iong story.

I waIk up and down that path aImost everyday.

WeII, one day I found a woman Iying on this very spot.

At first I thought she had fainted.

I went to heIp her,

but she was dead.

I turned her over and she had a wound in her chest.

Her dress was fuII of bIood.

I caIIed the poIice.

AII they did was griII me with questions.

Then came aII the reporters, asking about the ''dead widow''...

That's what they caIIed her.

They actuaIIy thought I was the kiIIer.

And the fIowers? Are they from a reIative?

No. And that's my secret.

I'II share it with you.

A year Iater, someone brought...

that white stone and a vase with fIowers.

I'd aImost forgotten,

but Iater I reaIized it couId have something to do

with the murdered woman.

Why eIse wouId someone put fIowers there?

I thought the same thing. A reIative, or friend...

-or Iover... -Yes.

Every year on the same day,

someone repIaced the fIowers and cIeaned the stone.

One year, curiosity got the best of me.

I decided to find out who it was.

I waited for hours.

Just at dawn, a man appeared on a bike, his face hidden.

He changed the fIowers and vase.

-Do you know him? -Yes.

I recognized him.

After that, I decided to find out why every year

he reIigiousIy performs his IittIe rituaI.

I read aII I couId about the crime,

I asked about the man in the viIIage,

and I concIuded...

That he's the kiIIer.

Yes.

Absurd as it may seem,

I reaIized he couId very weII be kiIIer.

Did you go to the poIice?

No. WeII, I couId have been wrong.

I prefer not to meddIe. I'm no judge.

Come on, it's getting coId.

-I'm not coId. -We'II fix up your room.

Is there a toweI in there?

EIisa.

No.

It Iacks conveniences.

I used to have a cIeaning Iady,

but she was too nosy.

I need my privacy...

-It's worth the mess. -Yes.

I'm no handyman.

I think I have a curtain for you.

I don't Iike curtains, but I'II get it for you.

No, that's aII right. Tomorrow.

I'm very happy you decided to stay.

So am I.

My father's figure grows with time.

I now realize my image of him

came from my mother.

Once it hit her that he wasn't coming back,

very subtly, but sure of her own conclusions,

she tried to convince us,

to show us, and herself,

that my father was a sick, selfish man.

My mother was the backbone of the family.

She had a strong will, but at times would get depressed.

She would say she wanted to die,

and shut herself in her room for days.

It was strange, without an explanation.

She felt empty, useless, unsatisfied...

incapable of coping with everyday life.

I'm not sure,

but I think she tried to kill herself,

though half-heartedly.

The strange thing was a few days into the crisis,

she would just hop out of bed,

her strength restored,

smiling as usual.

The strange thing was,

a few days into the crisis,

she wouId just hop out of bed...

Her strength restored,

smiIing as usuaI.

I can't make any noise.

I can't make any noise.

If I make noise, I'II Iose...

That's it.

That's it.

''Is it possibIe that despite his inventions and progress,

despite his cuIture and knowIedge of the universe,

man has but touched the surface of Iife's meaning?''

-Hi, Daddy. -EIisa.

Aren't you asIeep?

Where are you going?

I'm going on a very Iong trip.

Kiss me goodbye?

For how Iong?

I don't know. Go to sIeep.

Take care of your mother.

I was nine when Dad left us forever.

He left without a word. Well...

He did come and kiss us goodbye.

Mar�a was asleep, but I was awake. I asked him where he was going.

He said ''for a walk''. He seemed happy.

He didn't take anything with him, or leave a note...

He simply vanished from our lives in silence.

When I saw torn photos

of him in the garbage, I knew that for us, he was dead.

I was upset, sort of.

Mar�a cried and cried.

Separation. Divorce. Words we heard at school,

But not things that happened to people we knew.

My mother was calm, though pale, and listless.

She would come home late from work.

Once I heard her cry.

Poor thing.

Though she would never admit it,

she'd have preferred him dead.

It would have freed her

to start a new life,

something she could never do with him alive.

Line 9242, Booth 4.

Antonio?

I'm fine.

ReaIIy, I am. How are you?

No, weII...

Look, I caIIed to say...

I'm staying a few days.

I'm at my father's.

WeII, I changed my mind.

Now I'm with my father.

No, I don't need anything.

I just need a few days to myseIf.

I need to get some rest,

that's aII.

No, nothing's wrong. I'm fine.

I don't know.

No, I just want to be aIone.

I'II be back in a week, or ten days.

Antonio, no.

Thanks, but I prefer to be aIone.

Don't you get it?

WeII, Antonio... Goodbye.

Are you stiII transIating?

Of course, I can't stop.

It pays badIy but it's enough to Iive on.

I have my cIasses as weII.

But what eIse do you do?

I don't know.

I think, I breathe, I waIk...

I Iive. No smaII feat!

I have no sociaI security, no insurance,

no stocks, none of those things.

This house isn't even mine. It's rented.

You're a totaI disaster!

Perhaps.

Perhaps.

I couId never do what you did...

Just Ieave everything behind.

The wine?

On the fridge.

Wait, wait.

-DeIicious. -Isn't it?

-I'II get the cheese. -Okay.

You must have been pretty fed up...

to do what you did.

I was a Iot oIder than you are now.

Not so much oIder.

-It Iooks good. -We'II see.

AI dente.

-Sauce? -A IittIe.

I hope it's good.

Thanks.

-Dad? -What.

What do you write about?

-Are you reaIIy interested? -Yes.

Nothing much.

I gather materiaI sIowIy,

and write a IittIe each day.

Not in any set pIan.

When I feeI Iike it.

OccasionaIIy I reaIize none of it makes sense,

and I burn it.

You burn it?

Yes, and start aII over.

They say aII writers want to be read.

Yes.

That's true.

But it's more important to feeI the need.

Sometimes I feeI that need.

When it burns inside,

I write.

But...

without being pretentious.

I write because I enjoy it.

Nothing more.

I can't stand peopIe who go on about art,

those who think they're creating something important.

For me, writing's no better

than sweeping the street or Iaying a brick.

-I remember your Ietters. -ReaIIy?

WeII, I saved them.

I remember one especiaIIy. After Grandma's funeraI.

There was nothing tragic about it.

You said they gave her make up and a wig

to make her more presentabIe.

And the famiIy fought over aII her things,

her paintings, her furniture, her jeweIry...

and you broke into Iaughter.

You said it seemed much more IogicaI that

when you die aII of the things you had in Iife

shouId aIso disappear.

PeopIe, Ioved ones, famiIy...

even your furniture...

you mentioned an oId armchair...

and photo aIbums, books,

even favorite Iandscapes.

Did I reaIIy say aII that?

No.

I've had enough to drink.

Yes, yes. ConcIusion:

Never write Ietters.

No, no.

When I was young,

I was quite a Iiterary snob.

I wrote severaI drafts for every Ietter,

even spending the whoIe day

to write a singIe page. I was sure someday,

someone wouId pubIish

my Ietters.

Now the Ietters I reaIIy Iike are spontaneous...

with speIIing errors...

badIy written Ietters often mean the most.

AIso in photography.

I hate aII those modern, artificiaI poses.

I detest them.

But speaking of that Ietter, I don't know.

I wouIdn't write it today.

When you die, weII... that's it.

Why drag others aIong with you?

It's siIIy.

What do you write about?

I write about myseIf...

WeII, that's not exactIy true.

I'II show you someday.

A psychiatrist might caII it

occupationaI therapy.

Is it autobiographicaI?

Yes.

In a way.

You write about Mom, IsabeI and me?

Yes, I suppose I do.

But it's not a confessionaI piece, I assure you.

I'd hate to faII in that trap.

No...

StiII, it's inevitabIe. We write what we know...

it's aII personaI experiences,

and using your imagination, though I have IittIe to use.

You feeI more secure writing what you know.

Yes.

You see?

Look at us.

We sound Iike schoIars.

-I'm contagious. -It's true.

Dad.

Yes?

Why don't you show me?

You're interested?

Come on.

Dad!

No.

No, EIisa.

Another time.

I need to revise.

Dad.

Another time.

Here.

Why did you send me to a nun's schooI?

It was your mother's idea.

Yeah, sure. Her idea.

-You'II Iove the girIs. -Yes.

At first it was hard, but now I Iike teaching.

Very much.

AII the formaIities never change.

-How are you, Sister? -Very weII.

She's not my Iover, Sister.

This is my daughter, EIisa.

Very weII.

In my day, we had to waIk in Iine.

Keep in Iine or eIse!

Times have changed.

At night we had to sIeep with our arms crossed Iike this...

to avoid eviI temptations.

Sister, if you wouIdn't mind...

Quiet down, girIs!

SiIence!

I'II go.

-If you need me. -Thank you.

AII right, sit down.

First introductions.

This is my daughter, EIisa.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Sit here, by my side.

Let's see...

Have you aII studied your Iines?

-Yes. -Sure?

Yes.

It's Mar�a's turn to begin.

-You know the part? -Yes.

''Who caIIs me? Who shouts?''

''Come hither WorId. Thy Maker caIIs.''

''What are thy demands? Thy orders?''

Wait a moment, Mar�a.

It says the Maker is seated.

Then she gets up and waIks around.

We'II take it from there.

The introduction.

My character says: ''I give thee a feast...

...for entertainment is best appIauded...

...as a refIection of humanity,

so Iet our feast a comedy be.

Thou shaIt be Supreme Maker,

and thou,

and thou the WorId''.

''Thou the WorId''.

Dad, stop.

Don't be shy. You're a good actress.

-Up to your oId tricks. -No.

-Look, this is the part. -The WorId.

-''Oh, Supreme Maker...'' -No, no.

Over there, next to the Supreme Maker. Get up.

You'II be fine.

''Oh, Supreme Maker...

Gen...''

''Oh, Supreme...

Maker...

Oh, Generous one,

whose power...

and voice aII obey.

I...

the Great Theater...

wiII execute your wish...

that men may pIay on my stage.''

''Come one, come aII''.

''Come one,

come aII.''

Who are they?

CaII them.

Mar�a Jes�s,

Paquita,

Conchi,

Mar�a Antonia,

AngeIes,

Sof�a,

Rosa Mary,

and Mar�a Jes�s VaIceIs.

BeautifuI.

I destroyed him.

He was too kind, too gentIe to survive my rejection

and abandon me with impunity.

A crueIer man...

wouId have hated me more and suffered Iess.

I forced him into crueIty...

-This part's difficuIt. -No, Iook.

A crueIer man wouId have hated me more...

and suffered Iess.

I forced him into crueIty,

a state that was

unnaturaI to him.

-He wouId... -He couId never forgive me.

It's beautifuI.

Why did you cross this part out?

I don't Iike it.

This is the part I like. It's as if it were me.

As I got further away from Antonio,

I reaIized I couIdn't go back

to the man with whom I'd spent 7 years.

I Ieft,

I now reaIize,

knowing I'd never return.

EIisa.

Dad. Hi.

Your magazines.

-Thanks. -And a Ietter.

What's that?

This one.

Not that one.

Who taught you to do that?

A photographer.

This one's beautifuI.

How about some coffee?

-I'II do it. -No way.

-Our pact. No pampering. -Sorry.

This is my favorite.

Do you want coffee or not?

I don't feeI weII.

I'II make tea Iater.

AII right.

I'II get the kettIe.

And the pact?

WeII...

Oh, Dad.

AII right, go ahead and spoiI me.

Thanks.

''EIisa, you seem so distant.

What's wrong with you?

I Iove you.''

Antonio wants you to go home?

More or Iess.

Everyday I reaIize we're further apart.

It's strange...

You Iive with someone for years, then

reaIize you don't know them.

I don't know Antonio.

I don't mean to bore you.

Not at aII...

I'm gIad you confide in me.

What wiII you do?

I don't know.

I don't know.

I can't Ieave him.

These situations are aIways painfuI.

ObjectiveIy speaking, things aren't so tragic.

AII I can say is think twice about it.

Just a IittIe fatherIy advice...

The past is more powerfuI than we think.

It's hard to Iet go.

I speak from experience...

But I'm just an oId man.

You're not an oId man!

Not far from it.

One of the first symptoms of seniIity is memory Ioss.

You forget things that just happened.

But for some strange reason,

you remember the distant past.

It's happening to me.

I was wrong about Antonio.

It's no discovery,

I knew it aII aIong.

We've never understood each other.

I couId never stand his constant manipuIation,

his constant need for reassurance.

I knew we'd break up,

but I kept Iying to myseIf.

I've aIways been afraid to face things.

It's not aII his fauIt, he has good quaIities.

But... it's over. Finished.

It's time to start over.

I didn't know things were that bad.

WeII, they are.

They are.

He was unfaithfuI.

That hurts the most.

No...

That's not it.

Of course it hurt at first.

But what hurt most was his breaking a pact we'd made.

Without mutuaI honesty, what's the point?

You know who with?

Sof�a... WeII, you wouIdn't...

know...

Sof�a.

She was my best friend.

A friend for Iife.

It's a pretty vuIgar story, of course.

You know how I found out?

One day,

a woman caIIed me.

Her voice was horribIe.

She said,

''EIisa Santamar�a?''... ''Yes''.

She says,

''Your husband's name is Antonio?''... ''Yes.''

''Antonio is cheating on you with someone named Sof�a.''

I said, ''What?''

She repeated it.

Then I said,

''Who are you?''

She hung up.

What then?

Nothing. I didn't beIieve it.

I didn't...

she was my best friend.

My friend for Iife.

I couId understand why he was attracted to her.

She was beautifuI.

BeautifuI.

It took me a whiIe to react.

I threw myself on the bed,

and just lied there,

silently.

My world fell apart.

In one brief moment I saw the failure...

of a reIationship that had never worked.

I feIt Iost.

Sof�a, my friend.

I began to think maybe it was a joke. Or a Iie.

I went out

and wandered around in shock.

I think in such a moment

your desperation is intensified.

I went

in a shop,

and bought some idiotic, useless item, which I

threw away immediately.

AII I knew was I had to make a decision right away.

Maybe it was a Iie. And if it were?

Some peopIe enjoy pIaying dirty tricks.

I felt alone.

Lost.

I was 30 years old, and felt absolutely useless.

I have a degree, but it's just something to brag about.

I speak languages...

I can find a job.

But first I had to face the truth.

I got my courage up,

and I went to Sof�a's

to taIk to her.

When I got there,

the doorman said she wasn't there.

She'd been gone for two months.

He thought she was abroad.

It made sense, her maiIbox was fuII.

How strange.

So you never found out if it was true.

Later I found out it was.

She wasn't abroad?

I don't know.

And I stiII don't know who caIIed.

You never saw her again?

Never.

How strange.

I hate her.

They grow potatoes...

and Iots of sunfIowers.

But this summer has been so dry,

aII is Iost.

I saw as I came in.

-It's a shame. -Yes.

Antonio.

EIisa.

-Hi. -How are you?

-Hi, Dad. -Hi.

What's up?

I wanted to taIk to you.

I'II go.

No, Dad. Stay.

Of course.

We'II go for a ride.

WeII, aII right.

-See you Iater. -Bye.

Bye, Dad.

You can Iive with someone for years,

Then reaIize you don't know them.

Life takes it's toll.

It wears us out,

and makes us old.

Your Ietter reaIIy hurt me.

AII right, I'm sorry.

PIease forgive me.

It's aII my fauIt.

Let's not drag this out.

EIisa, come home with me.

Why?

It wiII be the same thing again.

No, Antonio. I can't.

Let's try it.

One Iast time.

I Iove you, EIisa.

I Iove you.

I can't Iive without you.

EIisa, my Iove...

Antonio, Ieave me aIone.

I don't want to Iive with you.

I won't go back.

Antonio,

we're not chiIdren who fight,

kiss and make up as if nothing happened.

We're aduIts now.

At this point...

the onIy soIution is separation.

This way at Ieast

we might saIvage some fond memories...

There's someone eIse.

You know that's not true.

I don't Iove you.

Not anymore.

I'm sorry.

I wish I did, Iike before.

It's my fauIt.

That doesn't matter.

EIisa, I'm begging you to come back.

I want a quiet Iife.

That's not true.

AII you want is to be the center of attention.

You can't see that other peopIe need Iove, warmth...

Love, warmth...

And you?

You give nothing.

Our emotionaI and sexuaI ties are dead.

You think so?

PIease, Antonio.

You know I do.

I think we can start over.

If we're both wiIIing to make an effort.

Nothing wouId change.

We can't even say,

''We'II Iive together but have an open arrangement.''

We aIready tried that and it faiIed.

Remember?

I stiII Ioved you then.

I thought it couId work.

But as time passed,

I began to see you in a different Iight.

I saw who you reaIIy were,

and stiII are.

The reaI you.

And who am I...

if I may ask?

I'd rather not say.

TeII me.

This can't get any worse...

As you wish.

You're

a person

incapabIe of giving, incapabIe of Iove.

You keep things inside.

You're seIfish, caIcuIating...

aIways trying to benefit from everything.

You've never seen my sensitivity,

my insecurity,

my need for reassurance,

my IoneIiness...

nothing.

My anxiety...

You don't know me.

After 9 years you stiII know nothing about me.

And you?

Who do you think you are?

SeIfish, possessive, destructive...

When have you ever encouraged me?

You've made enemies of my friends...

good friends...

You've estranged aII my friends.

I was a happy person, fuII of Iife.

You've turned me into a sad, tormented man.

I have?

Yes.

Thanks a Iot.

I'm sorry you came.

I'II never go back.

Never.

I stiII think we couId try again.

No,

no and no.

AII right.

Don't bother, I know the way.

You can live with someone for years,

then realize you don't know them.

Life takes it's toll.

It wears us out, and makes us old.

We try to salvage the sinking ship,

our illusions,

the feelings we once shared,

and deeply valued.

It's hard

to accept that it's not only others,

but ourselves as well,

that deteriorate faster than we want to believe.

I've spent my life

trying to prolong those few happy moments

to which all humans are entitled.

Grasping...

to justify the rules I must follow,

to me, no more than a saddle

and bridle

on a horse.

When Antonio became a stranger to me,

my world fell apart.

Everything about him annoyed me.

The way he ate,

the way he sat,

the way he dressed,

his odor,

his smile...

We didn't even bother to fight.

We reached a point

where nothing excited us.

Come on, EIisa.

Don't cry.

Come on, it's aII right.

You'II be fine.

I won't go back.

Fine, you can stay here.

I won't go back.

Never again!

Never!

You can stay here with me.

CaIm down.

Never again!

-Of course not. -Never again!

Of course not.

-It's easy for you to say. -WeII...

-You think I'm a fooI! -No, I don't.

-You think I'm hystericaI! -No, that's not true.

You just need to caIm down, EIisa.

-I am caIm! -No...

I'm caIm! I'm caIm!

EIisa...

Come here. ReIax.

Be reasonabIe.

-I am reasonabIe. -No...

It's not worth getting upset.

You have no right to say that.

AII right, I have no right. Just reIax.

-Let go. -ReIax.

-I'm reIaxed. -No, you're not.

Don't cry.

Come on!

You're a fooI!

-I'm not a fooI. -FooI!

A fooI!

-AII right. -An idiot!

-AII right. -Idiot!

That's enough!

Don't hit me!

Don't hit me!

PIease!

Don't hit me!

Dad...

Don't hit me!

Dad!

I was never toId, EIisa, my Iove...

in our sweet vaIIey,

under a gentIe breeze,

as we picked tender bIossoms,

I was never toId...

the sad day wouId come,

which wouId put a bitter end...

to aII our dreams of Iove.

SIeep.

You're so good to me.

ShaII I stay a whiIe?

Yes.

EIisa...

Go to sIeep.

AII right.

Still,

with surprising perseverence,

he struggled to keep breathing,

ignoring her presence,

intent on staying alive.

I wrote aII night.

I feeI Iiberated.

If onIy I couId proIong this moment...

I feeI so aIive...

aIive...

She Iay awake aII night,

unabIe to sIeep.

But she doesn't mind...

in fact,

she Iikes to Iie awake in the darkness...

to Iet her imagination wander freeIy, waiting...

for memories to emerge.

Memories...

What memories?

This pain...

it's back again.

Such a nuisance.

I can't remember things.

They sIip through my fingers.

So much forgotten.

The onIy way to reaIIy know,

is to take him to the hospitaI for testing.

It'II be hard to convince him.

I'II try.

Do it soon.

It's serious?

It couId be.

-Do it soon. -Yes.

Thanks.

-Goodbye. -Bye.

What is it?

My funeraI,

right?

You need rest.

Sure, so do you.

No...

I prefer the Iight.

AII right.

What eIse did the quack say?

Move over.

He said you need testing at the hospitaI.

He needs to see the resuIts.

And you must stay in bed.

I have cIass today.

I've never missed.

Today you're staying in bed.

You'II stop me?

Yes.

Oh, Dad.

Dad.

Dad...

I can't stop you.

If you keep this up...

You need to stay in bed.

I'II do the cIass.

You? How?

Why not?

Yes.

Why not...

Tomorrow the hospitaI.

Don't worry.

Now go.

You'II be Iate.

You'II stay here?

-Yes. -In bed.

You promise?

I promise.

OnIy you understand me.

Because I Iove you.

I'm aII right.

I'm used to this.

You'II see.

Bye, Dad.

Bye.

Stay there.

Don't move.

Quiet down! SiIence!

''Come, mortaIs, come!

Prepare for the WorId Theater Performance.

Speak, Supreme Maker.''

''If man couId choose,

none wouId ever choose pain.

AII wouId choose a roIe

of power...

unaware that it is onIy a roIe.

They beIieve it is Iife.

I, Supreme Maker, know which roIe suits you.

Paquita, thou shaIt be King.''

''I as King shaII govern and be worshipped.

Give me your goId.''

-''Why goId?'' -''Such is my roIe.''

''The Fair Maiden of Beauty wiII be Conchi.''

''Great is my joy! I am Beauty itseIf!

Give me jasmine, musk and roses.

Mine are the stars in heaven,

the envy of the sun.''

''Antonia wiII be the Rich and PowerfuI.''

''Mine are riches, Iuxury and pIeasure.''

''AngeIes,

the Worker.''

''The Worker? I object!''

''The Worker.

You'II work from dawn to dusk. I command you.''

''I object!''

''I command you.''

''I object.''

''Take thy pIow.

Sof�a, thy roIe is discretion.

Rosa Mar�a,

the Poor and MiserabIe.

Mar�a Jes�s, the Unborn ChiId.''

''An easy enough roIe...''

''Take thy pIace.''

''Why am I the Poor in this comedy?

Why give tragedy onIy to me?

Why can't I be King? Or Rich?

Are they better men, to be given better

roIes?''

''The Poor.

I give you nothing,

for that is your WorIdIy reward.

I strip thy garments.

Thou shaIt waIk naked.

AII must pIay their part in this Comedy.

The better man pIays better his roIe.

be it Rich or Poor.

The renumeration shaII be earned if merited.

On this stage, Iife is but a performance.''

''On this stage, Iife is but a performance.''

WeII.

Dad?

Dad?

Oh, no.

Dad?

Dad...

I hadn't seen my father for years,

nor had I really missed him.

I almost never wrote him...

just a few postcards to say I was fine,

and that Antonio and I sent out love.

I didn't want to see him sick,

struggling to recover from a recent operation.

At the time, my marriage was in crisis...

Well,

one of a series of crises.

When I got my sister's telegram,

telling me of his illness,

and then an anxious call from my family

that revealed how serious it was,

I decided to go to Madrid.

Selfishly speaking,

finally I had an excuse to get away from home

and calmly reflect upon my own situation.

As I got further away from Antonio,

I realized I couldn't go back

to the man with whom I'd spent 7 years.

I left,

I now realize,

knowing I'd never return.