Americano

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- Come.

- No.

Stay!

No.

Hello?

Hi.

What?

Really?

Okay.

F***.

My mother's dead.

I'll be fine, don't worry.

Just a little bump.

When did she die?

She just did.

What happened?

I don't really know.

You didn't ask?

Not really.

Want to talk about it?

No.

What for?

It won't bring her back.

That's all in the past.

Maybe I should stay a while longer.

What would that change?

We stick to the plan.

Like you decided, right?

Like we decided.

But after what's happened,

I can't just leave you.

We can't keep questioning things.

Fine.

You're right.

Don't question anything.

Martin-style.

So long.

You look really tired.

Get inside!

Want something to drink?

No, thanks.

I got you a steak, the kind you like.

Come on.

Listen, you need to sell her apartment.

That's your field

It shouldn't be too hard.

It's not the same market at all.

I'm sure your agency has

a contact over there.

- I don't like to fly.

- Cut it out.

You have an American passport.

You don't even need a stamp.

I'm not an American.

Quit moaning and groaning!

She's your mother, not mine.

You know, I'd love to help,

but I can't do the paperwork for you.

You're her son.

You need to go and sign all the stuff.

Plus, you need to repatriate the body.

She wanted to be buried in

Vendee, believe it or not.

She didn't talk to me.

Never did, even when we lived together.

Wouldn't say a thing.

At least not to me.

What could I do?

She was clinically depressed.

I don't remember that.

And your girlfriend?

- Claire.

- Right.

How's that going?

Not so great.

She keeps talking about having a baby.

That's normal at her age.

So what do you say?

Well, we're talking about it.

We talked about it but...

But what?

I don't know.

We don't agree.

Good for you.

Kids are a pain in the ass!

You're here.

Yeah. See?

I'm leaving tomorrow.

You can stay here a few days.

I'm leaving for L.A. tomorrow.

To sell my mother's apartment.

Do you know California well?

Not really.

My folks split up right after we moved there.

She kept me there a few years,

then I came back here to live with my dad.

How old were you?

I don't remember.

I don't have many memories.

Seven or eight years old, I guess.

Didn't you like it?

Why do you say that?

When you don't remember...

I don't know.

That's weird.

I have memories from when I was three.

Well, I don't.

That's all.

You know Owl?

Remember that book about Owl?

Yes, I read it to you.

He made tear water tea.

Right.

He'd think real sad thoughts,

and he'd cry into a teapot.

Yes.

Well, I know something that would make me cry

a real big cup of tears.

A King Kong cup of tears.

For real!

Because if you died,

there'd be a King Kong cup.

Don't say that.

Martin, it's terrible.

I know, Linda.

I'm so sorry.

Oh, sorry.

We were so close.

I understand, Linda.

I understand English too.

Let's get your luggage-

I don't have any.

No luggage?

Poor little thing with no luggage.

You look just like her.

You look just like her!

Emilie.

I don't look like her.

I've known you since you were a kid.

We had great times with your mom.

She was a hoot!

We even lived together.

When you first moved here, remember?

We've been close ever since.

We stayed friends.

'Til the end.

It was me who came every day for her shot.

In the end, her arm was such a mess

it was hard to find a

spot that wasn't infected.

I had to press to make the veins come out.

I can't listen to this.

Sorry.

It wasn't easy.

It really wasn't easy.

I'm sure.

This isn't how I remember it.

You haven't been here in five years.

Since my place is so small,

this is like my second home.

Well, I'll make some coffee.

I need to rest for a bit.

No, we've got a lot to do.

There's the consulate, and the morgue.

Your dad wants the funeral on Sunday.

We need to repatriate the body.

Yeah, whatever.

- I'm meeting someone at noon.

- Who?

Someone from the real estate agency.

Right, you should see someone

from around here first!

I need your keys.

I have a friend who's a lawyer.

Can I introduce you?

Sure.

I'll come back later.

Bye, now.

I was starting to get worried.

Don't worry.

How'd it go?

Venice is nice, isn't it?

We need to get going to the morgue.

It's going to close.

Do you know who Lola was?

What Lola?

- My mother's friend?

- She wasn't her friend!

She saw a lot of someone named-

Lola, right.

But she's no one!

Who stayed at your mother's bedside?

Who gave her her shot every day?

When her arms were all full of pus?

Not Lola!

Lola wasn't around, conveniently.

She was just gone.

She doesn't even know the news.

Calm down.

I'm the one who sacrificed myself!

I know.

Lola was some...

little Mexican who hung around,

and your mom liked her.

She liked her because you were gone.

That's right.

I don't believe it.

That's f***ing outrageous!

Hello!

Martin?

It's Linda.

All this is for you.

They're pretty good,

considering she was a beginner, as you know.

No, I don't.

I didn't know!

I know nothing about painting.

She wasn't a real painter.

She painted for fun.

Their only value is sentimental.

She thought you'd want them.

Yeah, I got that.

- Was she involved with anyone?

- No.

Some guy from Venice had a thing for her,

but she wasn't into it.

What do you mean?

She wasn't interested.

Who was it?

Just some pseudo writer.

You don't know him.

Maybe he wasn't interested in depression.

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