Love Me Tender (2025) Movie Script
Be right there.
-Clmence...
-You look lovely, Josiane!
-Would you like to join us?
-No. Discipline, Michel, discipline!
Have a good day.
Paul? Come talk to your mom.
Hey there.
Paul!
You should hear it live.
It sounds absolutely insane.
Paul, put the flute down.
Come talk to your mom.
She's waiting.
-Hey, Mom.
-There you are.
-How many laps?
-Two kilometers.
But my time was terrible,
so I'm not telling you that part!
-Who are you, sir?
-I'm the son of Darth Vader and Cleopatra.
I thought you were your mother's son?
I am that too.
But also Darth Vader's and Cleopatra's.
Fair enough.
Laurent! I have extra tickets
to the show we're seeing next weekend.
-Want to come?
-Next weekend I'm in Normandy...
You're pixelating.
And you look terrible.
-How about now? Better?
-There we go!
-Can you show me the sky?
-Sure, hang on.
There. Can you see it?
Come on, faster!
Come on, come on, come on!
Faster, faster!
PRIVATE HUNTING GROUND
We're at Place Dauphine.
It's the end of summer.
I'm dipping my
pepper chips in ketchup.
I ordered a club sandwich.
He ordered a croque-monsieur.
Damn.
"He" is my ex.
The first man I ever slept with,
and for now, the last.
We're still technically married,
because we never got divorced.
He and I were together for 20 years.
I left him three years ago.
His name is Laurent.
For our eight-year-old son Paul, we share
custody every other week, on good terms.
It's never been a problem.
A few months ago,
I started dating women.
I want to tell him.
That's why the dinner.
-We're switching piano teachers, right?
-If you think it matters, sure.
I don't know...
He's not getting any better.
He's young.
Yes, but she's a bit...
Too soft?
Yes, she's way too soft!
Soft, bordering on clueless.
Dim.
I... I've started
seeing women.
Dating. As in, going on dates.
-Dating, seriously?
-Yes, I mean...
You know.
Same again.
-I just want you to be happy.
-Thank you.
You're welcome.
My new vice.
Champagne only from now on.
It's costing me a fortune.
You really look great.
I swim a lot.
It's not that.
You're beautiful.
I mean it.
I might take Paul
to see my father.
For Halloween.
-Nice.
-Yeah.
-He hasn't seen him since Easter.
-He'll love that.
-How's your father doing?
-You know my father. Same as always.
Still complaining on the phone.
-He feels sorry for you.
-Really?
He says you must be so lonely.
He's got a point.
Good night.
-No?
-Absolutely not.
I misread that completely.
-Madame...
-Goodbye.
-Tell him to stop!
-Stop it!
Dinner with me on Tuesday?
Can't we just get divorced instead?
Stop trying to get a rise out of me.
I'm going home.
Good night.
-Say hi to Paul for me?
-Of course.
Have a nice evening.
What is she doing?
You're leaving already?
Laurent?
Is everything okay?
He doesn't want to come.
I'm sorry.
-What do you mean?
-He just won't.
We can't force him.
I'll change my plans.
Wait a second...
-Can I just...
-No...
Laurent, this is ridiculous.
Let me talk to him.
Hey, Paul.
Hey.
Last call for Paul Lvque
at gate 14.
Immediate departure to the moon.
Gate 14.
The rocket is leaving soon.
He doesn't want to see you.
We can go get some juice.
I have tickets to
the show you wanted to see.
I don't want to see you.
Come out of there.
Stop it, come on.
I don't want to see you!
That's not how this works.
This is our week.
I've planned so many things.
Come on.
Come on, Paul.
-Paul.
-I don't want to see you. I hate you.
Go away!
Did something happen?
Did you two have a fight?
-He's not angry at me, is he?
-Do you think this is funny?
-If he changes his mind, call me.
-Okay.
Seems unlikely, but sure.
Goodbye.
Paul? I'll call you!
I love you.
Discipline, Clmence. Discipline!
Did you bring up divorce again?
It wasn't the right moment.
You know, giving someone
the cold shoulder isn't a punishment.
-You're ruthless, Elisabeth!
-I know.
I still don't understand why
you let him call you his "wife."
I honestly don't understand
why you even got married.
-To a man, no less.
-That's just what you did back then.
At least he's good-looking?
Sure.
Not really.
But we were a good match.
You're such a conformist.
Now he knows you're a lesbian,
and he's furious.
-Can you please stop talking?
-And if I don't want to?
I said "please."
You did.
Can't you stay a bit longer?
It's still early.
Go back to bed.
I'm going to take a bath.
-Yes?
-Hello.
Do you know what time it is?
Hi, Laurent.
Can you put Paul on, please?
He's getting ready for school.
-Can you get him, please?
-One second.
Paul, it's Mom.
Can't you two talk before school?
He doesn't want to talk.
-He's a child. Put him on.
-As you wish.
Hello, Paul?
Sweetheart?
I know you're upset with me,
but I don't know why.
What if we grabbed a drink
and you could tell me?
Okay? Can you do that?
I told you. He doesn't want to talk.
But he's eight years old!
Since when does he call the shots?
And you're the expert on parenting?
-Excuse me?
-Forget it. We have to get to school.
For months,
I failed to connect the dots
between father and son.
Maybe Laurent is right.
Maybe Paul really does hate me.
It's my fault.
Maybe I did something wrong.
I keep trying to understand
what I did.
Why won't you answer?
I need to talk to Paul.
I don't even know
what I'm being punished for.
All nonprofits are the same...
It's not that complicated...
Hello?
Let me write that down.
When?
July 4th.
3 PM.
Understood.
Thank you, Vincent.
Don't worry. I'm fine.
Goodbye.
So?
-So...
-July 4th, at 3 PM...
...he's going to request
full sole custody...
...and that I be stripped
of my parental rights.
On what grounds?
That's absurd.
He's accusing me of incest and pedophilia,
directly or through a third party.
What the hell?
-How long has it been since you saw your son?
-Six months.
Ladies and gentlemen...
I need to write.
Okay. It'll work out.
Chin up, everyone.
Why don't you just give me
your door code?
-Don't you want to take anything off?
-No.
Just your jeans?
-What's going on?
-Nothing. I want you.
Great.
Did I forget your birthday or something?
Look, I'm going down on you right now.
What did the lawyer say?
Well?
I want you.
You can shut down if you want,
but I don't have to.
Seriously?
Is that a line from a TV show?
-You're an idiot.
-No, wait.
-I'm sorry.
-So?
It's...
Goodbye.
Here is an excerpt from one of the books
found in Madame Delcourt's home.
By which I mean a book
that Paul could easily have found.
"I met Vincent in 1982, when he
was still a child."
"He stayed with me in my dreams."
"I had made up my mind
that when he grew up,"
"I would love him
for who he no longer was."
Please note, Your Honor,
that this is one of
the less explicit passages.
But my client did not write
Herv Guibert's books.
No. That would have been even worse.
In this photo, a child can be seen
in the arms of a scantily-clad man,
leaning against a table
with several glasses of alcohol on it.
Gay Pride...
And in this other image,
a "joke," I suppose.
In very poor taste,
given that you have a child of your own.
I'll conclude with this letter from Paul,
which I will now read aloud.
Could we avoid humiliating
my client any further?
Please summarize.
Very well.
I'll simply say
that the child describes
the unbearable situation
of living with his mother.
That she is, and I quote, "crazy."
He does not wish to see her.
-Thank you, Your Honor.
-Thank you, Counsel.
I see in the file
that you discussed your love life
with Paul, Madame Delcourt.
And in your new book, you write about
your various affairs with women.
-Could you elaborate?
-Yes.
I introduced Paul to someone
I was in a serious relationship with.
-You're using the past tense?
-That relationship has ended.
You found it appropriate to introduce
a passing conquest a woman, no less
to your 8-year-old child?
Your Honor, with all due respect,
I believe we're straying from the point.
My client was in a serious
relationship with someone.
She chose to tell her son.
That is entirely normal.
And your living situation?
-I assume you plan to move?
-Yes.
Will there be a bedroom
for Paul in your new apartment?
No, Your Honor. It's a place
I've been lent.
I can't currently afford
to rent a larger apartment.
I'd also like to add that I haven't
seen Paul in nine months.
So it didn't seem like
an immediate necessity.
But if things were to return
to normal,
with my book contract, I would...
Forgive me for interrupting.
But I want to point out
that Madame Delcourt has a choice.
She has chosen not to return
to her career as a lawyer,
which would give her the income she needs
to fulfill her responsibilities as a mother.
That strikes me as a choice.
She has not seen her son
in nine months.
She has had nine months
to prove...
PRIVATE PROPERTY
VINCENT'S MADNESS
-I can pay 60 euros.
-Okay.
Have a nice day.
Goodbye.
The judge's ruling came
a few days later.
She appointed a psychiatrist
to assess all three of us.
He has six months
to submit his report.
As always with the law,
that's a rough estimate.
It could take a year,
two years, three years.
In the meantime, Laurent has sole custody.
I have only limited,
supervised visitation.
"Mediated visitation rights,"
as the law puts it.
One hour every other week,
at a center.
A neutral "contact center"
near Rpublique.
Child welfare specialists will be present
when Paul and I meet,
as if I were a drug-addict mother
or a violent father.
I'm appealing.
An appeal that changes nothing.
The ruling stands, along with
the provisional enforcement order.
No further hearing for two years.
Two years is a thousand years.
Two years is forever.
Here you go!
She's looking at you!
-May I?
-Mm.
I avoid parks,
public gardens, schools,
bakeries at snack time.
I take detours.
I hide on Wednesdays.
Parent-child contact center.
All of our operators are busy.
Please try again later.
I hadn't realized
there were so many.
There were children everywhere.
It feels like they're there because of me.
To torment me.
To remind me of what I'm trying
to forget through discipline.
The discipline is pointless.
The swimming, all the women I see.
I flee from children
as if they were cluster bombs.
As if they might explode
in my face,
filling my body with shrapnel.
I keep my distance. I avoid them.
But they're stronger.
They always catch me off guard in the end.
-Rpublique parent-child center.
-Hello?
My name is Clmence Delcourt.
I'm calling to schedule an appointment.
Last week they told me
to call back.
Could you give me your name and case number?
-I already called last week...
-Name and case number, please.
Of course. My name is Clmence Delcourt.
My case number is AF89
V377E12.
Okay. How can I help you?
As I said, I already spoke
with your colleague...
We have a large team here.
You'll need to explain again,
otherwise I can't help you.
Of course.
I need to arrange a meeting
between my son, Paul Lvque, and me,
supervised by a third party.
I have a court order from July.
And I've been calling you
every week since then.
And we haven't been able to
find a time slot for you, correct?
-That's right.
-I understand.
I can't book an appointment because
it's an initial visit, correct?
Yes.
It has to go through my supervisor,
who needs to meet with you and the child.
-He lives with his father.
-I understand.
We need to meet with the child
and his father, then with you,
before we can schedule
a visit between you and Paul.
I'll give you my supervisor's email.
Do you have a pen?
It's okay, I'll remember it.
It's RPCMC@contact.org
Okay, thank you.
-Is there anything else I can help you with?
-No.
Have a nice day, goodbye.
-Same to you, goodbye.
-Goodbye.
He was born.
I saw him for the first time,
with his own face, his own body,
his own life, his own death.
He didn't really cry.
He looked a little annoyed,
I thought.
I understood that he was
exactly who he was.
Not a story we
tell each other.
I said his name was Paul.
He has his father's surname,
but his first name is mine.
It's something you don't get
in other loves,
the chance to choose a name
for the one you love.
A first name
so others will love him too.
So that one day, he'll go his own way.
They made little wristbands.
One for him, one for me.
They dressed him.
We went up to my room.
I was starving.
They brought me a steak.
I didn't sleep much that night.
He cried a little, and I got scared.
I held him against my shoulder.
I walked the corridors.
He felt both so light
and so heavy.
I remembered my dogs from childhood.
I had watched how they did it.
They cared for their young,
without shame or mockery,
without losing themselves,
without giving up.
Then they'd go back to hunting
the following season.
I thought it seemed very simple.
That there was no doubt about it.
I would do it my own way.
Without the silliness of women,
without the obscenity of mothers.
Thank you.
That's everything, I'm done. There we go.
-Sorry if I was a bit abrupt.
-No, it's fine.
It's lovely having you here,
Madame Clmence.
It'll do your father a world of good!
We have to keep spirits up.
That's important, isn't it?
-See you tomorrow?
-See you tomorrow.
-Could I have a word with you?
-Of course.
Your father is feeling a bit down.
It would do him good
to get out a little.
Even just a five-minute walk in the park...
-He doesn't listen to me.
-Yes.
-You look thin. Are you eating properly?
-Yes.
It's important to eat.
I have to go. I'm running late!
See you tomorrow.
Goodbye.
Your mother was exactly
your age when she died.
It's no small thing,
to have loved a woman the way you did.
No. It certainly isn't.
-Hello.
-Madame Delcourt, please come in.
First of all, I won't
keep you in suspense.
Paul loves you, and you love Paul.
I have no doubt about that.
It's clear that you are not crazy.
And... my evaluation shows that Paul
has been manipulated by his father
and that he doesn't mean a word
of what he wrote in the letter to the court.
Of course.
I do need to add...
...that this happens often.
I get many cases like yours, every year.
But usually it's the other way around.
It's fathers who leave.
It's rare for a mother to leave.
For some, that can be seen as more serious.
Even unforgivable.
So... you'll tell the judge
that I'm fit to see my son?
I will submit my report.
I will emphasize your
psychological and emotional stability.
Your capacity to be a mother.
I will make clear that Paul
misses you and is suffering from this.
But I must warn you.
My report may not carry
much weight.
If Monsieur Lvque is still angry
and determined to fight, this could take years.
You know that as well as I do.
But you must not give up.
You must not give up.
Your son is resilient.
You've made him strong.
Lamb of God,
who takes away the sins of the world,
have mercy on us.
-Hey, Mouloud.
-Hey, Clmence.
-Moving day?
-Yes.
Would you like this for your son?
Come, Ismal.
-I found it while sorting through things.
-Hey, Clmence.
-There's Mickey Mouse.
-Thank you!
Hope we see each other again.
I'm moving to another neighborhood,
not another country!
Ha, true.
You know where to find us!
-Take care.
-You too.
-Shall we say goodbye?
-Goodbye!
Hi.
Come with me, kids?
Come on.
I'll be back in 30 minutes.
You coming, Timothe?
Dad's waiting.
We'll meet Mom here after. Okay?
-Is this your first time at the center?
-Yes.
They brought all three of my kids
here to see their father.
Sorry, I'm just thinking out loud.
I always say what I think...
I'm an open book, honestly.
Or so my mom says, anyway.
But... you have to be there for them.
I mean it.
"Child protection"?
Easy to say.
I don't know...
I don't know how it "protects" my kids...
when it exposes them to their father.
They couldn't even answer that.
They have no idea.
It won't last.
He'll be back in prison
by Christmas.
At least I think so.
Sorry, I'll shut up.
You're clearly a good person.
So why are you here?
-Would you like to talk?
-Sure, that's fine.
I have three kids.
They're the best thing in my life.
I could tell right away you were new.
You still have hope in your eyes.
That's beautiful.
Want to come outside for a smoke?
No, I'll stay.
I want to stay focused.
Good call. They hate mothers who smoke.
I can't help it.
I'd go crazy otherwise.
-Then it's better to smoke.
-Yes.
It'll be okay.
We're women. We never give up.
If you like, we can call this
"a pause in the story"?
I saw in your file that you write.
Okay. The time has come,
and we are here to help you
rebuild your connection with Paul.
So that mother and father
can reclaim their roles.
When do we start?
According to the assessment...
Excuse me.
I don't really understand your language.
"The mother" or "the father"... I'm not
"the mother," I'm his mother.
And I haven't seen Paul
in a year and a half.
I don't know if you understand
what I'm saying. Paul needs his mother.
Let's not get worked up now.
We are here to help you,
and above all, to help Paul.
We'll be meeting Paul and his father.
After that, we'll contact you
about the first visit.
-When?
-It could happen very quickly.
Within a month or two.
A year and a half without him.
Two Christmases, one of
his birthdays, one Mother's Day,
two of my own birthdays.
And all the days in between.
What on earth is that?
It was the nurse's idea.
-Did she make it?
-No.
But she's desperate for me
to show her I want to live.
-Did you make it?
-Exactly.
Clearly shows I enjoy being alive,
doesn't it?
Devastatingly clear.
Well...
-Merry Christmas.
-You promised you wouldn't.
Sorry. I've got nothing for you.
Thank you.
I'm tired.
Do you mind if I go lie down?
Good night.
Good night, sweetheart.
My darling,
Don't listen to those who say
it's terrible that we don't see each other.
Don't listen to those who say
you must miss me
and how unhappy you must be.
Nor to those who seem uncomfortable
when I, or this situation, comes up.
I know that you know
you shouldn't worry about it.
People talk nonsense.
You know how to look away
and ignore them.
As for your father and me,
his anger toward me,
and everything he has said about me
to the judge and to you...
Don't let it upset you.
Don't hold it against him.
It's common, as you know,
for former lovers to fight.
It's as old as time.
Throwing poisonous words at each other
when we stop loving one another.
Honestly, I'd rather this than couples
who have dinner on the day of their divorce.
I prefer the honesty of war
to the hypocrisy of peace.
I don't know if you hate me.
You don't have to answer me.
You have every right to hate me.
Hate is a necessary part of love.
There is no love without hate. Those who
say otherwise are liars or cowards.
It is a vital part of a child's
love for their parents.
Especially a son's love for his mother
to hate her.
And yet many sons
never manage it.
I myself a daughter
loved my mother like a son.
I'm not sure
I could have done it.
I think that's why she died.
She knew I wouldn't have had
the courage to let her go.
You must let go of those you love.
Know that you are capable of it.
We always have that right.
Love is brutal.
Don't be sad if you think of me.
There's no point in being sad.
But if you are, know
that I think of you every day.
I am your mother.
That is something that never ends.
All my love...
Mom.
My darling,
Don't listen to those who say
it's terrible that we don't see each other...
"My grandparents are dead.
The house has been sold."
"My father is penniless."
"For fifteen years, he has lived alone
in the cook's quarters, with no regrets."
-Clmence, that was wonderful.
-Thank you.
-It was beautiful.
-Thank you.
Thank you, goodbye.
-What should I write?
-Whatever you like.
The kitchen's over there, but
the fridge is in the living room.
And allow me to introduce...
Odile, Clmence.
Clmence, Odile.
-This is your room.
-Okay.
As long as you pitch in for cleaning
and drinks, we're all good.
-Okay.
-Cool.
If I bring girls home...
is that okay with you?
-And if I bring girls home?
-No problem at all. That's fine.
-Cool.
-Cool. Welcome to your new home.
Thank you.
-Are you sure you don't want the table?
-Take it. I never use it.
-Perfect.
-It'll be great.
-See you at the caf.
-See you.
-Do you have something for him?
-Yes. A compass keyring.
Good. Absolutely.
He's going to love it.
It'll be fine.
Let's all sit down around the table.
Wait.
Let me explain
how the visit will work.
You'll see.
It's very simple.
Can I...
-Excuse me. Can I have him on my lap?
-Paul, is that okay?
Marie and I will stay in the room
for this hour with your mom.
If you have any questions or
requests, you can talk to us.
We're here for you. Okay?
We're here to reassure you,
if you need us.
It's 11:10. That means the visit
will end around 12:15.
We're in no rush, are we?
Pretend we're not here.
-Is this for me?
-Of course!
It's a present.
A compass keyring.
-I haven't even opened it!
-Sorry.
-Where in Paris do you live?
-Right now I'm in the Marais.
-Which direction from here?
-It's...
...south, southwest, I think.
That way?
-And relative to Dad's place?
-Northeast.
-There.
-Yes.
-Have I grown?
-Yes! A lot.
-Really?
-Yes.
-You haven't changed.
-No? Is that good?
Yes, it's good.
It's wonderful!
Thank you.
I saw your book with your photo
on the cover in a shop.
I showed it to Louis
and said you were my mom...
...that you wrote it.
He said that was cool.
-Who's Louis?
-Louis is my new friend.
My best friends are Louis and Camille.
Camille is a bit like you.
She's really cool.
But she can't be...
as cool as me, right?
No, no, but almost.
I wish we were at the seaside.
Or at Grandpa's. That would be fun.
Do you know if Grandpa's doing okay?
-He's doing well.
-We should go visit him soon.
Yeah...
-Would that be allowed? I mean...
Could you ask Paul's father, Laurent,
if we can visit my dad?
I'll pass along your request.
-Will you tell me your secrets?
-I've forgotten them all.
Same-sex relationships cannot be considered
a sign of mental instability in our time.
Nor can writing books.
We received the psychiatrist's report in April.
Nine months after the ruling,
which had given the expert six months
to review our case.
I believe that statement appears
in the introduction or conclusion.
The doctor chose to make that point explicit.
In case there was any doubt
in the judge's or Laurent's minds.
The law is the law, but it turns out
it's still a problem for some.
At his school, in the sixth arrondissement,
the other parents apparently called me "sick."
-Has the principal received the report?
-I sent it, but he didn't respond.
No, I have no idea.
If you'd like, I can note it down
and ask him later?
Yes, thank you.
Hey, buddy.
You look so sharp today.
-New headphones?
-They're from Dad.
Very cool.
I brought this.
-Can I give it to him?
-Yes, of course.
-Want some? They're seeds.
-I don't think I like them anymore.
Oh...
How's it going?
I don't know what to say to you today.
That's okay.
That's perfectly fine.
What would we do if we were outside?
-Get ice cream?
-Or go to the cinema? That'd be fun.
-Or both!
-That would be amazing.
You know... it's normal
to find this a bit strange.
It really is strange.
For me too.
The only thing that matters
is that we're here together.
We can touch each other.
So you know I'm here.
I've always been here.
Hey, you!
-How are you feeling?
-I just feel happy.
Want some?
Just a little?
-She's cute, isn't she?
-Who?
-Ambre. The one with short hair.
-Yes, very cute.
-Want me to put in a good word?
-No, thanks.
No? Okay.
-What should I say to her?
-To who?
To Ambre!
I don't know,
my little ray of sunshine.
She's her own person,
with her own dreams and interests.
Just talk to her!
-I'm going to write. Drink some water, okay?
-I'll do my best.
-See you tomorrow.
-See you, Junior. Good night.
That's their choice, all those who want
to believe
that women have a connection to the moon,
to nature, to instinct,
which commands them to surrender
to the material world
and give up their very being.
I have no interest in that.
"Mother" does not exist.
"Mother" as a status, as an identity,
as power or powerlessness,
as a position of the dominated
or the dominating,
as victim and executioner.
None of that exists.
Such things have never existed.
There is only love.
And that is something else entirely.
-Hello?
-Where are you? I can't see you.
At home. He doesn't want to come.
What? Why won't he come?
Do you want to grab a coffee
at Place Dauphine?
Okay.
I'm heading down. See you soon.
Do you still swim?
This is insane.
It's unbearable.
Do you want to talk about "problems"?
Do you want a fight?
Why are you always looking for conflict?
Conflict, conflict... it's sick.
-You're so aggressive.
-I didn't say anything, Laurent.
But... do you understand how
this affects Paul?
Stop. Paul is fine.
When he doesn't see you, he's fine.
Good grades, he's thriving at school,
good friends, he's happy.
Then he sees you and it all falls apart.
The moment he sees you, he gets upset
and feels torn in two.
Right.
You want more responsibility.
But are you even trying to earn money?
I hear you refuse to go back to law.
I pay for school. Do you think
it's normal that I'm paying for everything?
My concern is Paul.
And you? You want child support
so you can live out...
...your dream of being
a tortured poet in a garret?
Isn't that a bit selfish?
All of this...
to write some pretentious drivel?
Causing a tiny stir in your
little artsy hipster bubble?
You're pathetic, Laurent.
I don't recognize you anymore.
This isn't fair.
We all end up there eventually.
Anything else you'd like to say?
I'll get the bill then.
Do you ever miss it?
-Miss what?
-Living in the chteau.
I can't picture myself
playing tennis anymore.
We could take a walk in the park?
What's happening now?
It can't be easy for Laurent.
All your antics...
My antics?
Your affairs with women in Paris.
You write about it in your book...
-I understand that he found it difficult.
-Oh, you understand?
Let me remind you that I'm no longer
allowed to see my own child.
Okay... "Understand" that.
What time is it? It's late...
-Who? The nurse?
-Yes... for my Subutex.
She won't leave them with me.
She doesn't trust me.
Can you believe that?
Anyway.
Good that your book is being published.
I want some Play-Doh.
That's not Play-Doh,
it's sticky putty.
She couldn't...
She couldn't even look at me.
I was so adorable!
Tiramisu!
-My first ever. It was so good.
-You loved it.
Remember the man outside the hotel
who sold us that Italian flag t-shirt?
Yes, I remember.
It was really expensive,
but you bought it for me anyway.
You wanted it so badly
I couldn't say no.
You said: "The good life,
or not the good life?"
The t-shirt is a bit small now...
I've kept it anyway.
Let's take a photo on my phone.
On your phone?
Dad got me one
as a birthday present.
Really?
That's great.
We can text each other.
Can I have your number?
Dad said I shouldn't give it out.
You'd have to ask him.
Come here.
It's okay.
Hold on...
I don't want your Virgin Mojito.
So you have a new one?
-No.
-Yes, you do.
No.
I'm done with all that.
Chasing women all the time.
It's exhausting for everyone.
And Paul?
Paul... We see each other.
He's sad.
Me too.
-Hey.
-Hi.
This heat is something else.
Did you swim this morning?
-Is the water cold?
-Not too bad.
-Can I come with you?
-No.
I didn't want to anyway.
-How's it going?
-Not bad...
-You okay?
-I'm on my fourth glass.
We've had two bottles already!
-Take my glass and catch up.
-No, water.
A glass of red wine.
-Not bad, right?
-What?
The house in Dunkirk?
We said we'd let it go.
He wants to rent a house in Dunkirk...
Where did you disappear to?
-What's going on with you two?
-Nothing.
Nothing?
-How are you doing?
-I'm good.
Goodnight!
Have fun.
We're off.
Have a lovely evening!
Good night.
Will you be alright?
-Good night.
-Sweet dreams!
Sleep well.
May I?
-They're like teenagers!
-They're just drunk, mostly.
-Clmence.
-Sarah.
Is this your favorite caf?
Do you come here often?
Yes, I live nearby.
-You live nearby?
-Not exactly.
It depends.
It depends?
It depends.
Does that mysterious air
usually work on women?
Yeah. Pretty much.
Can't complain.
-I'm going to guess what you do for work.
-No. You'll never get it right!
Oh, I will.
I'm really good at this. I promise.
-And what do I get if I win?
-I get three guesses, okay?
If you win...
I'll buy you a drink.
You'll buy me a drink...
and give me your number.
I'll buy you a drink
and I take your number.
Fine.
-You're a DJ.
-What?
-Why not?
-Do I look like a DJ?
It's your vibe...
You're not a DJ?
You definitely don't work in a bank.
Now I'm offended. But, okay...
You have one guess left.
-Banker doesn't count!
-Yes, it does.
-No, it doesn't!
-Yes, it does.
-You're a gym teacher.
-Hand over your phone.
-You're bold, aren't you?
-Yes.
Thank you.
-You're a journalist.
-How did you guess that?
What do I win?
I think you've won enough for one day.
Easy there, lone ranger.
Call me.
Mom!
-Hi.
-Hi.
I've got to be quick,
I'm double-parked.
Bye, champ.
-Call me if anything comes up, okay?
-See you tomorrow, Dad.
-Want to race?
-Yes, come on!
Faster, faster!
What's that?
Are we going to get through this, Mom?
Yes. We're going to get
through this, my darling.
Watch the step.
You okay, champ?
That wasn't so long!
See you in two weeks.
We're going to the seaside!
Come on. Want to go to the movies?
Come on, let's go!
-See you in two weeks?
-Now you're getting physical? Unbelievable.
Come in.
Holy hell.
Are you okay?
Is this okay?
I should go...
-Why?
-It's almost dawn.
Will you turn into a pumpkin
if you don't leave now?
Maybe...
I'll take my chances.
Do you want some coffee?
No, don't touch me!
Stay away from me!
I hate being touched.
Come with me,
if you dare!
Madame Clmence!
I didn't know you were here.
Your father is a lucky man.
-Tell him that!
-I certainly will.
Papa?
Come on now!
You're always in my dreams.
They used to be complicated dreams.
Now they're simpler.
We're at peace. You're here with me...
and on the other side is my life.
Women saying they want to be with me.
It's strange, all these
dreams about love, right now.
Quiet, peaceful dreams.
Nothing standing between
me and you, or me and them.
Of course, they're just dreams.
In reality,
you're not really here.
I'm here.
Okay.
-Are you scared?
-No.
You should be.
-I'm formidable.
-I can handle it.
Is that so?
Let me tell you a legend.
And after, if you're up for it,
we'll swim to the other shore.
I'm ready!
Long, long ago, there lived here a terrible
but very wealthy landowner.
His castle stood in the middle of the lake.
One New Year's Eve, at midnight,
an old beggar woman knocked on his door
and asked for a little bread
and a sip of wine to warm herself.
The landowner slammed the door,
mocking her ugly face
and her tattered clothes.
Immediately, the entire castle
sank to the bottom of the lake,
thanks to the beggar woman's curse.
Ever since, they say that in the heart
of the lake
there is an evil whirlpool that drags down
anyone who dares cross it.
Can you introduce us, darling?
This is Sarah, my father.
My father, Sarah.
Lovely to meet you.
Thank you for having me.
-Aren't you boiling in that?
-No, I'm fine.
You're breaking my heart...
I know.
We're at your father's place.
My father's no priest, darling.
Will you ever introduce me
to Paul?
Yes.
Maybe.
We'll see.
-Are you sure you don't want to take that off?
-Yes, quite sure.
I like being here with you.
You enjoy spending time with retired
Subutex users?
Oh, absolutely. It's totally my thing.
The whole decadent aristocrat vibe.
I said I like being here with you.
Same.
I like you.
It was great living here. Be nice to
the girls! Love, Clmence.
PS: I left my sweater for you.
I know how much you love it!
Should we talk about it
or just avoid it?
We can talk about it.
I'm not really into
open relationships and all that.
I've moved past that.
Okay.
Just "okay"... or...
okay, I accept that?
Okay, I accept that.
Look.
Green works, right?
-Yes. Does he like green?
-I don't know. I think so.
You think so?
Does he know I exist?
Green is good.
Then it's different from mine.
I'll pay.
50 euros, please.
Same as yours!
There we go.
Beautiful.
-It's really cool.
-Yes.
-I made the right choice.
-Yes.
-Can you see it?
-Yes.
Those are your initials.
I'm going to take your last name when I grow up.
Are you sure?
It's a name that comes with a lot of baggage.
I want the same name
as you and Grandpa.
It's your call.
How's school, Paul?
-Good.
-Oh yes?
-Are you still in primary school?
-No, middle school now.
Paul goes to a private school.
Mom...
Why didn't we go to the seaside
like you said?
Because Laurent didn't want me
to take you.
But I waited for you.
I waited for you the whole summer.
I know.
I'm tired of you both.
And Dad's right, anyway.
You're just selfish.
You want to live your own life.
You don't care about us.
That's not true, Paul.
I do care.
Paul...
Paul, I know you're angry
and you have every right to be.
But it's not because your
father and I split up
that we don't see each other. Okay?
Laurent is very angry with me
and doesn't want me to see you.
He'll change. In the meantime,
we just have to do our best.
Be happy with this.
With what we have.
Okay?
I know it's terrible
and we both deserve better.
It's not fair. But there's nothing
I can do to change that right now.
I'm sorry.
-I want to go.
-Wait, Paul, maybe we can talk...
I want to go!
I can see what's happening.
You know that? I can see it.
-Can you?
-Yes.
-I can't make sense of any of it.
-Yes, you can.
I looked after your case over the summer.
I re-read the whole thing.
I'll take this and add it to the file.
We're getting there.
We really are.
I'll give you a moment.
It's cold. It's frozen.
It's disgusting.
Cold, right?
Is that all?
Touch it. It's cold.
No, I believe you.
Tried to schedule weekend with Paul.
NO RESPONSE.
Laurent cancels the weekend with Grandpa.
Paul's birthday.
NO NEWS.
Tried to schedule another weekend.
NO RESPONSE.
Hello, Madame Delcourt, this is
Madame Dureau from the contact center.
It's late, but I wanted
to check in on you.
I'm sorry that
Paul's father has cancelled again.
I probably shouldn't say this,
but what he's doing is pathetic.
I've added a letter to your file.
This isn't normal, but...
I'm worried about Paul.
I think it's urgent.
He didn't seem well the last time.
I was thinking we might
need to contact social services...
But you never know
how that will turn out...
They could place him in foster care,
and it would take even longer
for the two of you to be reunited.
Once a child is placed in foster care,
he stays registered there until he's 18.
Having thought it over,
I think it's best not to go that route.
There's not much more
we can do at this point.
I'm truly sorry.
In any case, I'll try
to reach Paul's father again.
I'll get back to you.
Don't hesitate to call if you need anything.
Have a good evening.
She says she can't take it anymore.
That my life is hard
and that I'm difficult.
She says she can't stand
the way I treat her,
going out at night
and disappearing for days
and then coming back
madly in love.
She can't keep up with it anymore,
the wild passion and then the cold.
She's tired of the wild child in me.
She's tired of my arrogance,
my careless remarks,
going from bad to worse.
She says one day
she'll leave me.
Maybe it's the winter
that's making us like this.
-Can we go now?
-Yes, of course.
You have two hours.
Enjoy yourselves. Off you go.
How beautiful!
Watch out, Gran!
-What do we do now?
-I thought maybe we could go bowling?
That's a great idea!
Actually...
No, it won't work.
We'll be late. Sorry.
-What about a film?
-No, we don't have time.
-Another ice cream?
-Fine by me!
What is it?
You're amazing.
I think you're just amazing.
It's in our Delcourt blood.
-Can you show me the apartment next time?
-Yes.
Of course.
Fair warning, it's nothing special.
-I still want to see it.
-Okay.
Maybe I could leave
some of my stuff there?
Whatever you like.
Do you remember how you always
wanted to come here? When you were in nursery school.
No, I don't remember that.
-Well?
-I didn't expect you to show up.
I came to cheer you on.
-Is Paul still inside?
-Yes.
Laurent is always late.
He does it just to avoid seeing me.
Shall we go?
-I just wanted to see him.
-And now I'm caught in the middle!
Calm down. I just wanted to see Paul.
I find it very strange
that I haven't met him.
I'm speechless.
I think that "contact center"
suits you perfectly, actually.
You wouldn't have wanted me to meet him
even if you had a normal life.
Excuse me?
Do you hear yourself?
What if Laurent had seen you?
"A normal life"? What does that even mean?
This is my life. I've been fighting
to see my child for two years.
Paul...
...is off-limits.
-If you don't get that, then leave.
-No one talks to me like that, Clmence.
-Can you stay until I fall asleep?
-Okay.
After this, we never see each other again.
Hang in there, sweetheart.
I'm sorry.
Excuse me.
Can you help me?
-It's blocked...
-This thing never works.
-Which photo?
-That one.
That'll make a perfect bedroom for Paul.
Should I paint one of his walls?
Can you paint?
No...
Please leave the white walls alone.
Put up some posters.
It'll be perfect, sweetheart.
It's going to be wonderful.
Next time, Laurent emails
two hours before to cancel.
And then again the time after that.
He also cancels our
Saturday session at the contact center.
The center emails him.
He never responds.
It comes down to the hearing.
They've set a date in February.
He requested that Paul be heard.
I found out afterwards.
Paul told the judge
he didn't want to see me
and that he never missed me.
He didn't call me "crazy" this time.
That was better than last time.
Hello.
-Haven't I seen you before?
-Yes.
-No progress?
-No, or I wouldn't be here.
I believe you.
I probably shouldn't
say this...
...but you seem like
a decent person.
Someone you can actually talk to, I mean.
Me and my paperwork... none of it
is going to change anything, and you know it.
At some point, it's too late.
Children grow up,
and you can't get that time back.
And that's what
the people up top don't understand.
Childhood goes fast.
Anyway...
Tell me what happened.
At 11:10 AM, I arrived at the home
of my ex-husband, Laurent Lvque.
I should mention that I won the case
three months ago.
I am now entitled to custody of my son
every other weekend and half the holidays.
A ruling that my ex-husband
has not once respected.
At 11:10 AM, I arrived at his
apartment.
There I met Gontrand Ducourt,
a friend, his lawyer...
He opened the door for me.
There were two other friends inside,
Isaac Hofmann and Guillaume Bloy.
Laurent said that this way
I couldn't make anything up,
since there were witnesses.
I asked to see my son.
I walked down the hallway
and went into his room.
My son was lying on the bed, under
the covers, just like the last time.
Laurent was there too.
My son didn't respond to
my questions. Didn't move.
I sat on the edge of the bed
and asked Laurent for help.
He replied:
I can't force Paul
if he doesn't want to see you.
He spoke loudly so the others could hear.
I told him he was not
respecting my rights
and that this wasn't helping Paul.
That I would be filing a complaint.
At 11:20 AM, I left my son's room.
In the living room, Laurent said:
"Eventually you'll get tired
of all this nonsense."
Do you have anything to add?
Yes. This is the eighth time
I've filed a complaint.
I believe it will be the last.
Last night, while cycling,
I realized something.
I was on my way back to Belleville,
crossing Paris,
and I realized that the grief was over.
Not a passing moment of sadness...
...but that all-encompassing grief
that colors everything.
I realized I had mourned my son.
I realized it was done.
I had grieved him.
I felt fine.
I hadn't felt that good in years.
It hit me all at once.
Like waking up cured
after having the flu.
Thinking back, I hadn't even
dreamed about him in months.
I almost called the lawyer to say
I didn't want anything anymore.
Not even the weekends or holidays.
I realized it was pointless,
since none of it was working anyway.
There was nothing left to say. Nothing left to do.
I barely see him anymore.
We don't know what to say to each other.
We're becoming strangers.
It'll fade away.
The memories from my
life with him are fading.
Or rather, they're still there somewhere,
but they no longer suffocate me.
I can see other children now
without thinking of him.
I find them sweet.
It doesn't make me sad anymore.
It's no longer
a piercing pain.
Soon he'll be old enough
to choose not to see me at all.
And that's okay.
Or maybe he'll want
to come back and live with me.
You never know with teenagers.
Translation: Mats Wennberg
Ordiovision
-Clmence...
-You look lovely, Josiane!
-Would you like to join us?
-No. Discipline, Michel, discipline!
Have a good day.
Paul? Come talk to your mom.
Hey there.
Paul!
You should hear it live.
It sounds absolutely insane.
Paul, put the flute down.
Come talk to your mom.
She's waiting.
-Hey, Mom.
-There you are.
-How many laps?
-Two kilometers.
But my time was terrible,
so I'm not telling you that part!
-Who are you, sir?
-I'm the son of Darth Vader and Cleopatra.
I thought you were your mother's son?
I am that too.
But also Darth Vader's and Cleopatra's.
Fair enough.
Laurent! I have extra tickets
to the show we're seeing next weekend.
-Want to come?
-Next weekend I'm in Normandy...
You're pixelating.
And you look terrible.
-How about now? Better?
-There we go!
-Can you show me the sky?
-Sure, hang on.
There. Can you see it?
Come on, faster!
Come on, come on, come on!
Faster, faster!
PRIVATE HUNTING GROUND
We're at Place Dauphine.
It's the end of summer.
I'm dipping my
pepper chips in ketchup.
I ordered a club sandwich.
He ordered a croque-monsieur.
Damn.
"He" is my ex.
The first man I ever slept with,
and for now, the last.
We're still technically married,
because we never got divorced.
He and I were together for 20 years.
I left him three years ago.
His name is Laurent.
For our eight-year-old son Paul, we share
custody every other week, on good terms.
It's never been a problem.
A few months ago,
I started dating women.
I want to tell him.
That's why the dinner.
-We're switching piano teachers, right?
-If you think it matters, sure.
I don't know...
He's not getting any better.
He's young.
Yes, but she's a bit...
Too soft?
Yes, she's way too soft!
Soft, bordering on clueless.
Dim.
I... I've started
seeing women.
Dating. As in, going on dates.
-Dating, seriously?
-Yes, I mean...
You know.
Same again.
-I just want you to be happy.
-Thank you.
You're welcome.
My new vice.
Champagne only from now on.
It's costing me a fortune.
You really look great.
I swim a lot.
It's not that.
You're beautiful.
I mean it.
I might take Paul
to see my father.
For Halloween.
-Nice.
-Yeah.
-He hasn't seen him since Easter.
-He'll love that.
-How's your father doing?
-You know my father. Same as always.
Still complaining on the phone.
-He feels sorry for you.
-Really?
He says you must be so lonely.
He's got a point.
Good night.
-No?
-Absolutely not.
I misread that completely.
-Madame...
-Goodbye.
-Tell him to stop!
-Stop it!
Dinner with me on Tuesday?
Can't we just get divorced instead?
Stop trying to get a rise out of me.
I'm going home.
Good night.
-Say hi to Paul for me?
-Of course.
Have a nice evening.
What is she doing?
You're leaving already?
Laurent?
Is everything okay?
He doesn't want to come.
I'm sorry.
-What do you mean?
-He just won't.
We can't force him.
I'll change my plans.
Wait a second...
-Can I just...
-No...
Laurent, this is ridiculous.
Let me talk to him.
Hey, Paul.
Hey.
Last call for Paul Lvque
at gate 14.
Immediate departure to the moon.
Gate 14.
The rocket is leaving soon.
He doesn't want to see you.
We can go get some juice.
I have tickets to
the show you wanted to see.
I don't want to see you.
Come out of there.
Stop it, come on.
I don't want to see you!
That's not how this works.
This is our week.
I've planned so many things.
Come on.
Come on, Paul.
-Paul.
-I don't want to see you. I hate you.
Go away!
Did something happen?
Did you two have a fight?
-He's not angry at me, is he?
-Do you think this is funny?
-If he changes his mind, call me.
-Okay.
Seems unlikely, but sure.
Goodbye.
Paul? I'll call you!
I love you.
Discipline, Clmence. Discipline!
Did you bring up divorce again?
It wasn't the right moment.
You know, giving someone
the cold shoulder isn't a punishment.
-You're ruthless, Elisabeth!
-I know.
I still don't understand why
you let him call you his "wife."
I honestly don't understand
why you even got married.
-To a man, no less.
-That's just what you did back then.
At least he's good-looking?
Sure.
Not really.
But we were a good match.
You're such a conformist.
Now he knows you're a lesbian,
and he's furious.
-Can you please stop talking?
-And if I don't want to?
I said "please."
You did.
Can't you stay a bit longer?
It's still early.
Go back to bed.
I'm going to take a bath.
-Yes?
-Hello.
Do you know what time it is?
Hi, Laurent.
Can you put Paul on, please?
He's getting ready for school.
-Can you get him, please?
-One second.
Paul, it's Mom.
Can't you two talk before school?
He doesn't want to talk.
-He's a child. Put him on.
-As you wish.
Hello, Paul?
Sweetheart?
I know you're upset with me,
but I don't know why.
What if we grabbed a drink
and you could tell me?
Okay? Can you do that?
I told you. He doesn't want to talk.
But he's eight years old!
Since when does he call the shots?
And you're the expert on parenting?
-Excuse me?
-Forget it. We have to get to school.
For months,
I failed to connect the dots
between father and son.
Maybe Laurent is right.
Maybe Paul really does hate me.
It's my fault.
Maybe I did something wrong.
I keep trying to understand
what I did.
Why won't you answer?
I need to talk to Paul.
I don't even know
what I'm being punished for.
All nonprofits are the same...
It's not that complicated...
Hello?
Let me write that down.
When?
July 4th.
3 PM.
Understood.
Thank you, Vincent.
Don't worry. I'm fine.
Goodbye.
So?
-So...
-July 4th, at 3 PM...
...he's going to request
full sole custody...
...and that I be stripped
of my parental rights.
On what grounds?
That's absurd.
He's accusing me of incest and pedophilia,
directly or through a third party.
What the hell?
-How long has it been since you saw your son?
-Six months.
Ladies and gentlemen...
I need to write.
Okay. It'll work out.
Chin up, everyone.
Why don't you just give me
your door code?
-Don't you want to take anything off?
-No.
Just your jeans?
-What's going on?
-Nothing. I want you.
Great.
Did I forget your birthday or something?
Look, I'm going down on you right now.
What did the lawyer say?
Well?
I want you.
You can shut down if you want,
but I don't have to.
Seriously?
Is that a line from a TV show?
-You're an idiot.
-No, wait.
-I'm sorry.
-So?
It's...
Goodbye.
Here is an excerpt from one of the books
found in Madame Delcourt's home.
By which I mean a book
that Paul could easily have found.
"I met Vincent in 1982, when he
was still a child."
"He stayed with me in my dreams."
"I had made up my mind
that when he grew up,"
"I would love him
for who he no longer was."
Please note, Your Honor,
that this is one of
the less explicit passages.
But my client did not write
Herv Guibert's books.
No. That would have been even worse.
In this photo, a child can be seen
in the arms of a scantily-clad man,
leaning against a table
with several glasses of alcohol on it.
Gay Pride...
And in this other image,
a "joke," I suppose.
In very poor taste,
given that you have a child of your own.
I'll conclude with this letter from Paul,
which I will now read aloud.
Could we avoid humiliating
my client any further?
Please summarize.
Very well.
I'll simply say
that the child describes
the unbearable situation
of living with his mother.
That she is, and I quote, "crazy."
He does not wish to see her.
-Thank you, Your Honor.
-Thank you, Counsel.
I see in the file
that you discussed your love life
with Paul, Madame Delcourt.
And in your new book, you write about
your various affairs with women.
-Could you elaborate?
-Yes.
I introduced Paul to someone
I was in a serious relationship with.
-You're using the past tense?
-That relationship has ended.
You found it appropriate to introduce
a passing conquest a woman, no less
to your 8-year-old child?
Your Honor, with all due respect,
I believe we're straying from the point.
My client was in a serious
relationship with someone.
She chose to tell her son.
That is entirely normal.
And your living situation?
-I assume you plan to move?
-Yes.
Will there be a bedroom
for Paul in your new apartment?
No, Your Honor. It's a place
I've been lent.
I can't currently afford
to rent a larger apartment.
I'd also like to add that I haven't
seen Paul in nine months.
So it didn't seem like
an immediate necessity.
But if things were to return
to normal,
with my book contract, I would...
Forgive me for interrupting.
But I want to point out
that Madame Delcourt has a choice.
She has chosen not to return
to her career as a lawyer,
which would give her the income she needs
to fulfill her responsibilities as a mother.
That strikes me as a choice.
She has not seen her son
in nine months.
She has had nine months
to prove...
PRIVATE PROPERTY
VINCENT'S MADNESS
-I can pay 60 euros.
-Okay.
Have a nice day.
Goodbye.
The judge's ruling came
a few days later.
She appointed a psychiatrist
to assess all three of us.
He has six months
to submit his report.
As always with the law,
that's a rough estimate.
It could take a year,
two years, three years.
In the meantime, Laurent has sole custody.
I have only limited,
supervised visitation.
"Mediated visitation rights,"
as the law puts it.
One hour every other week,
at a center.
A neutral "contact center"
near Rpublique.
Child welfare specialists will be present
when Paul and I meet,
as if I were a drug-addict mother
or a violent father.
I'm appealing.
An appeal that changes nothing.
The ruling stands, along with
the provisional enforcement order.
No further hearing for two years.
Two years is a thousand years.
Two years is forever.
Here you go!
She's looking at you!
-May I?
-Mm.
I avoid parks,
public gardens, schools,
bakeries at snack time.
I take detours.
I hide on Wednesdays.
Parent-child contact center.
All of our operators are busy.
Please try again later.
I hadn't realized
there were so many.
There were children everywhere.
It feels like they're there because of me.
To torment me.
To remind me of what I'm trying
to forget through discipline.
The discipline is pointless.
The swimming, all the women I see.
I flee from children
as if they were cluster bombs.
As if they might explode
in my face,
filling my body with shrapnel.
I keep my distance. I avoid them.
But they're stronger.
They always catch me off guard in the end.
-Rpublique parent-child center.
-Hello?
My name is Clmence Delcourt.
I'm calling to schedule an appointment.
Last week they told me
to call back.
Could you give me your name and case number?
-I already called last week...
-Name and case number, please.
Of course. My name is Clmence Delcourt.
My case number is AF89
V377E12.
Okay. How can I help you?
As I said, I already spoke
with your colleague...
We have a large team here.
You'll need to explain again,
otherwise I can't help you.
Of course.
I need to arrange a meeting
between my son, Paul Lvque, and me,
supervised by a third party.
I have a court order from July.
And I've been calling you
every week since then.
And we haven't been able to
find a time slot for you, correct?
-That's right.
-I understand.
I can't book an appointment because
it's an initial visit, correct?
Yes.
It has to go through my supervisor,
who needs to meet with you and the child.
-He lives with his father.
-I understand.
We need to meet with the child
and his father, then with you,
before we can schedule
a visit between you and Paul.
I'll give you my supervisor's email.
Do you have a pen?
It's okay, I'll remember it.
It's RPCMC@contact.org
Okay, thank you.
-Is there anything else I can help you with?
-No.
Have a nice day, goodbye.
-Same to you, goodbye.
-Goodbye.
He was born.
I saw him for the first time,
with his own face, his own body,
his own life, his own death.
He didn't really cry.
He looked a little annoyed,
I thought.
I understood that he was
exactly who he was.
Not a story we
tell each other.
I said his name was Paul.
He has his father's surname,
but his first name is mine.
It's something you don't get
in other loves,
the chance to choose a name
for the one you love.
A first name
so others will love him too.
So that one day, he'll go his own way.
They made little wristbands.
One for him, one for me.
They dressed him.
We went up to my room.
I was starving.
They brought me a steak.
I didn't sleep much that night.
He cried a little, and I got scared.
I held him against my shoulder.
I walked the corridors.
He felt both so light
and so heavy.
I remembered my dogs from childhood.
I had watched how they did it.
They cared for their young,
without shame or mockery,
without losing themselves,
without giving up.
Then they'd go back to hunting
the following season.
I thought it seemed very simple.
That there was no doubt about it.
I would do it my own way.
Without the silliness of women,
without the obscenity of mothers.
Thank you.
That's everything, I'm done. There we go.
-Sorry if I was a bit abrupt.
-No, it's fine.
It's lovely having you here,
Madame Clmence.
It'll do your father a world of good!
We have to keep spirits up.
That's important, isn't it?
-See you tomorrow?
-See you tomorrow.
-Could I have a word with you?
-Of course.
Your father is feeling a bit down.
It would do him good
to get out a little.
Even just a five-minute walk in the park...
-He doesn't listen to me.
-Yes.
-You look thin. Are you eating properly?
-Yes.
It's important to eat.
I have to go. I'm running late!
See you tomorrow.
Goodbye.
Your mother was exactly
your age when she died.
It's no small thing,
to have loved a woman the way you did.
No. It certainly isn't.
-Hello.
-Madame Delcourt, please come in.
First of all, I won't
keep you in suspense.
Paul loves you, and you love Paul.
I have no doubt about that.
It's clear that you are not crazy.
And... my evaluation shows that Paul
has been manipulated by his father
and that he doesn't mean a word
of what he wrote in the letter to the court.
Of course.
I do need to add...
...that this happens often.
I get many cases like yours, every year.
But usually it's the other way around.
It's fathers who leave.
It's rare for a mother to leave.
For some, that can be seen as more serious.
Even unforgivable.
So... you'll tell the judge
that I'm fit to see my son?
I will submit my report.
I will emphasize your
psychological and emotional stability.
Your capacity to be a mother.
I will make clear that Paul
misses you and is suffering from this.
But I must warn you.
My report may not carry
much weight.
If Monsieur Lvque is still angry
and determined to fight, this could take years.
You know that as well as I do.
But you must not give up.
You must not give up.
Your son is resilient.
You've made him strong.
Lamb of God,
who takes away the sins of the world,
have mercy on us.
-Hey, Mouloud.
-Hey, Clmence.
-Moving day?
-Yes.
Would you like this for your son?
Come, Ismal.
-I found it while sorting through things.
-Hey, Clmence.
-There's Mickey Mouse.
-Thank you!
Hope we see each other again.
I'm moving to another neighborhood,
not another country!
Ha, true.
You know where to find us!
-Take care.
-You too.
-Shall we say goodbye?
-Goodbye!
Hi.
Come with me, kids?
Come on.
I'll be back in 30 minutes.
You coming, Timothe?
Dad's waiting.
We'll meet Mom here after. Okay?
-Is this your first time at the center?
-Yes.
They brought all three of my kids
here to see their father.
Sorry, I'm just thinking out loud.
I always say what I think...
I'm an open book, honestly.
Or so my mom says, anyway.
But... you have to be there for them.
I mean it.
"Child protection"?
Easy to say.
I don't know...
I don't know how it "protects" my kids...
when it exposes them to their father.
They couldn't even answer that.
They have no idea.
It won't last.
He'll be back in prison
by Christmas.
At least I think so.
Sorry, I'll shut up.
You're clearly a good person.
So why are you here?
-Would you like to talk?
-Sure, that's fine.
I have three kids.
They're the best thing in my life.
I could tell right away you were new.
You still have hope in your eyes.
That's beautiful.
Want to come outside for a smoke?
No, I'll stay.
I want to stay focused.
Good call. They hate mothers who smoke.
I can't help it.
I'd go crazy otherwise.
-Then it's better to smoke.
-Yes.
It'll be okay.
We're women. We never give up.
If you like, we can call this
"a pause in the story"?
I saw in your file that you write.
Okay. The time has come,
and we are here to help you
rebuild your connection with Paul.
So that mother and father
can reclaim their roles.
When do we start?
According to the assessment...
Excuse me.
I don't really understand your language.
"The mother" or "the father"... I'm not
"the mother," I'm his mother.
And I haven't seen Paul
in a year and a half.
I don't know if you understand
what I'm saying. Paul needs his mother.
Let's not get worked up now.
We are here to help you,
and above all, to help Paul.
We'll be meeting Paul and his father.
After that, we'll contact you
about the first visit.
-When?
-It could happen very quickly.
Within a month or two.
A year and a half without him.
Two Christmases, one of
his birthdays, one Mother's Day,
two of my own birthdays.
And all the days in between.
What on earth is that?
It was the nurse's idea.
-Did she make it?
-No.
But she's desperate for me
to show her I want to live.
-Did you make it?
-Exactly.
Clearly shows I enjoy being alive,
doesn't it?
Devastatingly clear.
Well...
-Merry Christmas.
-You promised you wouldn't.
Sorry. I've got nothing for you.
Thank you.
I'm tired.
Do you mind if I go lie down?
Good night.
Good night, sweetheart.
My darling,
Don't listen to those who say
it's terrible that we don't see each other.
Don't listen to those who say
you must miss me
and how unhappy you must be.
Nor to those who seem uncomfortable
when I, or this situation, comes up.
I know that you know
you shouldn't worry about it.
People talk nonsense.
You know how to look away
and ignore them.
As for your father and me,
his anger toward me,
and everything he has said about me
to the judge and to you...
Don't let it upset you.
Don't hold it against him.
It's common, as you know,
for former lovers to fight.
It's as old as time.
Throwing poisonous words at each other
when we stop loving one another.
Honestly, I'd rather this than couples
who have dinner on the day of their divorce.
I prefer the honesty of war
to the hypocrisy of peace.
I don't know if you hate me.
You don't have to answer me.
You have every right to hate me.
Hate is a necessary part of love.
There is no love without hate. Those who
say otherwise are liars or cowards.
It is a vital part of a child's
love for their parents.
Especially a son's love for his mother
to hate her.
And yet many sons
never manage it.
I myself a daughter
loved my mother like a son.
I'm not sure
I could have done it.
I think that's why she died.
She knew I wouldn't have had
the courage to let her go.
You must let go of those you love.
Know that you are capable of it.
We always have that right.
Love is brutal.
Don't be sad if you think of me.
There's no point in being sad.
But if you are, know
that I think of you every day.
I am your mother.
That is something that never ends.
All my love...
Mom.
My darling,
Don't listen to those who say
it's terrible that we don't see each other...
"My grandparents are dead.
The house has been sold."
"My father is penniless."
"For fifteen years, he has lived alone
in the cook's quarters, with no regrets."
-Clmence, that was wonderful.
-Thank you.
-It was beautiful.
-Thank you.
Thank you, goodbye.
-What should I write?
-Whatever you like.
The kitchen's over there, but
the fridge is in the living room.
And allow me to introduce...
Odile, Clmence.
Clmence, Odile.
-This is your room.
-Okay.
As long as you pitch in for cleaning
and drinks, we're all good.
-Okay.
-Cool.
If I bring girls home...
is that okay with you?
-And if I bring girls home?
-No problem at all. That's fine.
-Cool.
-Cool. Welcome to your new home.
Thank you.
-Are you sure you don't want the table?
-Take it. I never use it.
-Perfect.
-It'll be great.
-See you at the caf.
-See you.
-Do you have something for him?
-Yes. A compass keyring.
Good. Absolutely.
He's going to love it.
It'll be fine.
Let's all sit down around the table.
Wait.
Let me explain
how the visit will work.
You'll see.
It's very simple.
Can I...
-Excuse me. Can I have him on my lap?
-Paul, is that okay?
Marie and I will stay in the room
for this hour with your mom.
If you have any questions or
requests, you can talk to us.
We're here for you. Okay?
We're here to reassure you,
if you need us.
It's 11:10. That means the visit
will end around 12:15.
We're in no rush, are we?
Pretend we're not here.
-Is this for me?
-Of course!
It's a present.
A compass keyring.
-I haven't even opened it!
-Sorry.
-Where in Paris do you live?
-Right now I'm in the Marais.
-Which direction from here?
-It's...
...south, southwest, I think.
That way?
-And relative to Dad's place?
-Northeast.
-There.
-Yes.
-Have I grown?
-Yes! A lot.
-Really?
-Yes.
-You haven't changed.
-No? Is that good?
Yes, it's good.
It's wonderful!
Thank you.
I saw your book with your photo
on the cover in a shop.
I showed it to Louis
and said you were my mom...
...that you wrote it.
He said that was cool.
-Who's Louis?
-Louis is my new friend.
My best friends are Louis and Camille.
Camille is a bit like you.
She's really cool.
But she can't be...
as cool as me, right?
No, no, but almost.
I wish we were at the seaside.
Or at Grandpa's. That would be fun.
Do you know if Grandpa's doing okay?
-He's doing well.
-We should go visit him soon.
Yeah...
-Would that be allowed? I mean...
Could you ask Paul's father, Laurent,
if we can visit my dad?
I'll pass along your request.
-Will you tell me your secrets?
-I've forgotten them all.
Same-sex relationships cannot be considered
a sign of mental instability in our time.
Nor can writing books.
We received the psychiatrist's report in April.
Nine months after the ruling,
which had given the expert six months
to review our case.
I believe that statement appears
in the introduction or conclusion.
The doctor chose to make that point explicit.
In case there was any doubt
in the judge's or Laurent's minds.
The law is the law, but it turns out
it's still a problem for some.
At his school, in the sixth arrondissement,
the other parents apparently called me "sick."
-Has the principal received the report?
-I sent it, but he didn't respond.
No, I have no idea.
If you'd like, I can note it down
and ask him later?
Yes, thank you.
Hey, buddy.
You look so sharp today.
-New headphones?
-They're from Dad.
Very cool.
I brought this.
-Can I give it to him?
-Yes, of course.
-Want some? They're seeds.
-I don't think I like them anymore.
Oh...
How's it going?
I don't know what to say to you today.
That's okay.
That's perfectly fine.
What would we do if we were outside?
-Get ice cream?
-Or go to the cinema? That'd be fun.
-Or both!
-That would be amazing.
You know... it's normal
to find this a bit strange.
It really is strange.
For me too.
The only thing that matters
is that we're here together.
We can touch each other.
So you know I'm here.
I've always been here.
Hey, you!
-How are you feeling?
-I just feel happy.
Want some?
Just a little?
-She's cute, isn't she?
-Who?
-Ambre. The one with short hair.
-Yes, very cute.
-Want me to put in a good word?
-No, thanks.
No? Okay.
-What should I say to her?
-To who?
To Ambre!
I don't know,
my little ray of sunshine.
She's her own person,
with her own dreams and interests.
Just talk to her!
-I'm going to write. Drink some water, okay?
-I'll do my best.
-See you tomorrow.
-See you, Junior. Good night.
That's their choice, all those who want
to believe
that women have a connection to the moon,
to nature, to instinct,
which commands them to surrender
to the material world
and give up their very being.
I have no interest in that.
"Mother" does not exist.
"Mother" as a status, as an identity,
as power or powerlessness,
as a position of the dominated
or the dominating,
as victim and executioner.
None of that exists.
Such things have never existed.
There is only love.
And that is something else entirely.
-Hello?
-Where are you? I can't see you.
At home. He doesn't want to come.
What? Why won't he come?
Do you want to grab a coffee
at Place Dauphine?
Okay.
I'm heading down. See you soon.
Do you still swim?
This is insane.
It's unbearable.
Do you want to talk about "problems"?
Do you want a fight?
Why are you always looking for conflict?
Conflict, conflict... it's sick.
-You're so aggressive.
-I didn't say anything, Laurent.
But... do you understand how
this affects Paul?
Stop. Paul is fine.
When he doesn't see you, he's fine.
Good grades, he's thriving at school,
good friends, he's happy.
Then he sees you and it all falls apart.
The moment he sees you, he gets upset
and feels torn in two.
Right.
You want more responsibility.
But are you even trying to earn money?
I hear you refuse to go back to law.
I pay for school. Do you think
it's normal that I'm paying for everything?
My concern is Paul.
And you? You want child support
so you can live out...
...your dream of being
a tortured poet in a garret?
Isn't that a bit selfish?
All of this...
to write some pretentious drivel?
Causing a tiny stir in your
little artsy hipster bubble?
You're pathetic, Laurent.
I don't recognize you anymore.
This isn't fair.
We all end up there eventually.
Anything else you'd like to say?
I'll get the bill then.
Do you ever miss it?
-Miss what?
-Living in the chteau.
I can't picture myself
playing tennis anymore.
We could take a walk in the park?
What's happening now?
It can't be easy for Laurent.
All your antics...
My antics?
Your affairs with women in Paris.
You write about it in your book...
-I understand that he found it difficult.
-Oh, you understand?
Let me remind you that I'm no longer
allowed to see my own child.
Okay... "Understand" that.
What time is it? It's late...
-Who? The nurse?
-Yes... for my Subutex.
She won't leave them with me.
She doesn't trust me.
Can you believe that?
Anyway.
Good that your book is being published.
I want some Play-Doh.
That's not Play-Doh,
it's sticky putty.
She couldn't...
She couldn't even look at me.
I was so adorable!
Tiramisu!
-My first ever. It was so good.
-You loved it.
Remember the man outside the hotel
who sold us that Italian flag t-shirt?
Yes, I remember.
It was really expensive,
but you bought it for me anyway.
You wanted it so badly
I couldn't say no.
You said: "The good life,
or not the good life?"
The t-shirt is a bit small now...
I've kept it anyway.
Let's take a photo on my phone.
On your phone?
Dad got me one
as a birthday present.
Really?
That's great.
We can text each other.
Can I have your number?
Dad said I shouldn't give it out.
You'd have to ask him.
Come here.
It's okay.
Hold on...
I don't want your Virgin Mojito.
So you have a new one?
-No.
-Yes, you do.
No.
I'm done with all that.
Chasing women all the time.
It's exhausting for everyone.
And Paul?
Paul... We see each other.
He's sad.
Me too.
-Hey.
-Hi.
This heat is something else.
Did you swim this morning?
-Is the water cold?
-Not too bad.
-Can I come with you?
-No.
I didn't want to anyway.
-How's it going?
-Not bad...
-You okay?
-I'm on my fourth glass.
We've had two bottles already!
-Take my glass and catch up.
-No, water.
A glass of red wine.
-Not bad, right?
-What?
The house in Dunkirk?
We said we'd let it go.
He wants to rent a house in Dunkirk...
Where did you disappear to?
-What's going on with you two?
-Nothing.
Nothing?
-How are you doing?
-I'm good.
Goodnight!
Have fun.
We're off.
Have a lovely evening!
Good night.
Will you be alright?
-Good night.
-Sweet dreams!
Sleep well.
May I?
-They're like teenagers!
-They're just drunk, mostly.
-Clmence.
-Sarah.
Is this your favorite caf?
Do you come here often?
Yes, I live nearby.
-You live nearby?
-Not exactly.
It depends.
It depends?
It depends.
Does that mysterious air
usually work on women?
Yeah. Pretty much.
Can't complain.
-I'm going to guess what you do for work.
-No. You'll never get it right!
Oh, I will.
I'm really good at this. I promise.
-And what do I get if I win?
-I get three guesses, okay?
If you win...
I'll buy you a drink.
You'll buy me a drink...
and give me your number.
I'll buy you a drink
and I take your number.
Fine.
-You're a DJ.
-What?
-Why not?
-Do I look like a DJ?
It's your vibe...
You're not a DJ?
You definitely don't work in a bank.
Now I'm offended. But, okay...
You have one guess left.
-Banker doesn't count!
-Yes, it does.
-No, it doesn't!
-Yes, it does.
-You're a gym teacher.
-Hand over your phone.
-You're bold, aren't you?
-Yes.
Thank you.
-You're a journalist.
-How did you guess that?
What do I win?
I think you've won enough for one day.
Easy there, lone ranger.
Call me.
Mom!
-Hi.
-Hi.
I've got to be quick,
I'm double-parked.
Bye, champ.
-Call me if anything comes up, okay?
-See you tomorrow, Dad.
-Want to race?
-Yes, come on!
Faster, faster!
What's that?
Are we going to get through this, Mom?
Yes. We're going to get
through this, my darling.
Watch the step.
You okay, champ?
That wasn't so long!
See you in two weeks.
We're going to the seaside!
Come on. Want to go to the movies?
Come on, let's go!
-See you in two weeks?
-Now you're getting physical? Unbelievable.
Come in.
Holy hell.
Are you okay?
Is this okay?
I should go...
-Why?
-It's almost dawn.
Will you turn into a pumpkin
if you don't leave now?
Maybe...
I'll take my chances.
Do you want some coffee?
No, don't touch me!
Stay away from me!
I hate being touched.
Come with me,
if you dare!
Madame Clmence!
I didn't know you were here.
Your father is a lucky man.
-Tell him that!
-I certainly will.
Papa?
Come on now!
You're always in my dreams.
They used to be complicated dreams.
Now they're simpler.
We're at peace. You're here with me...
and on the other side is my life.
Women saying they want to be with me.
It's strange, all these
dreams about love, right now.
Quiet, peaceful dreams.
Nothing standing between
me and you, or me and them.
Of course, they're just dreams.
In reality,
you're not really here.
I'm here.
Okay.
-Are you scared?
-No.
You should be.
-I'm formidable.
-I can handle it.
Is that so?
Let me tell you a legend.
And after, if you're up for it,
we'll swim to the other shore.
I'm ready!
Long, long ago, there lived here a terrible
but very wealthy landowner.
His castle stood in the middle of the lake.
One New Year's Eve, at midnight,
an old beggar woman knocked on his door
and asked for a little bread
and a sip of wine to warm herself.
The landowner slammed the door,
mocking her ugly face
and her tattered clothes.
Immediately, the entire castle
sank to the bottom of the lake,
thanks to the beggar woman's curse.
Ever since, they say that in the heart
of the lake
there is an evil whirlpool that drags down
anyone who dares cross it.
Can you introduce us, darling?
This is Sarah, my father.
My father, Sarah.
Lovely to meet you.
Thank you for having me.
-Aren't you boiling in that?
-No, I'm fine.
You're breaking my heart...
I know.
We're at your father's place.
My father's no priest, darling.
Will you ever introduce me
to Paul?
Yes.
Maybe.
We'll see.
-Are you sure you don't want to take that off?
-Yes, quite sure.
I like being here with you.
You enjoy spending time with retired
Subutex users?
Oh, absolutely. It's totally my thing.
The whole decadent aristocrat vibe.
I said I like being here with you.
Same.
I like you.
It was great living here. Be nice to
the girls! Love, Clmence.
PS: I left my sweater for you.
I know how much you love it!
Should we talk about it
or just avoid it?
We can talk about it.
I'm not really into
open relationships and all that.
I've moved past that.
Okay.
Just "okay"... or...
okay, I accept that?
Okay, I accept that.
Look.
Green works, right?
-Yes. Does he like green?
-I don't know. I think so.
You think so?
Does he know I exist?
Green is good.
Then it's different from mine.
I'll pay.
50 euros, please.
Same as yours!
There we go.
Beautiful.
-It's really cool.
-Yes.
-I made the right choice.
-Yes.
-Can you see it?
-Yes.
Those are your initials.
I'm going to take your last name when I grow up.
Are you sure?
It's a name that comes with a lot of baggage.
I want the same name
as you and Grandpa.
It's your call.
How's school, Paul?
-Good.
-Oh yes?
-Are you still in primary school?
-No, middle school now.
Paul goes to a private school.
Mom...
Why didn't we go to the seaside
like you said?
Because Laurent didn't want me
to take you.
But I waited for you.
I waited for you the whole summer.
I know.
I'm tired of you both.
And Dad's right, anyway.
You're just selfish.
You want to live your own life.
You don't care about us.
That's not true, Paul.
I do care.
Paul...
Paul, I know you're angry
and you have every right to be.
But it's not because your
father and I split up
that we don't see each other. Okay?
Laurent is very angry with me
and doesn't want me to see you.
He'll change. In the meantime,
we just have to do our best.
Be happy with this.
With what we have.
Okay?
I know it's terrible
and we both deserve better.
It's not fair. But there's nothing
I can do to change that right now.
I'm sorry.
-I want to go.
-Wait, Paul, maybe we can talk...
I want to go!
I can see what's happening.
You know that? I can see it.
-Can you?
-Yes.
-I can't make sense of any of it.
-Yes, you can.
I looked after your case over the summer.
I re-read the whole thing.
I'll take this and add it to the file.
We're getting there.
We really are.
I'll give you a moment.
It's cold. It's frozen.
It's disgusting.
Cold, right?
Is that all?
Touch it. It's cold.
No, I believe you.
Tried to schedule weekend with Paul.
NO RESPONSE.
Laurent cancels the weekend with Grandpa.
Paul's birthday.
NO NEWS.
Tried to schedule another weekend.
NO RESPONSE.
Hello, Madame Delcourt, this is
Madame Dureau from the contact center.
It's late, but I wanted
to check in on you.
I'm sorry that
Paul's father has cancelled again.
I probably shouldn't say this,
but what he's doing is pathetic.
I've added a letter to your file.
This isn't normal, but...
I'm worried about Paul.
I think it's urgent.
He didn't seem well the last time.
I was thinking we might
need to contact social services...
But you never know
how that will turn out...
They could place him in foster care,
and it would take even longer
for the two of you to be reunited.
Once a child is placed in foster care,
he stays registered there until he's 18.
Having thought it over,
I think it's best not to go that route.
There's not much more
we can do at this point.
I'm truly sorry.
In any case, I'll try
to reach Paul's father again.
I'll get back to you.
Don't hesitate to call if you need anything.
Have a good evening.
She says she can't take it anymore.
That my life is hard
and that I'm difficult.
She says she can't stand
the way I treat her,
going out at night
and disappearing for days
and then coming back
madly in love.
She can't keep up with it anymore,
the wild passion and then the cold.
She's tired of the wild child in me.
She's tired of my arrogance,
my careless remarks,
going from bad to worse.
She says one day
she'll leave me.
Maybe it's the winter
that's making us like this.
-Can we go now?
-Yes, of course.
You have two hours.
Enjoy yourselves. Off you go.
How beautiful!
Watch out, Gran!
-What do we do now?
-I thought maybe we could go bowling?
That's a great idea!
Actually...
No, it won't work.
We'll be late. Sorry.
-What about a film?
-No, we don't have time.
-Another ice cream?
-Fine by me!
What is it?
You're amazing.
I think you're just amazing.
It's in our Delcourt blood.
-Can you show me the apartment next time?
-Yes.
Of course.
Fair warning, it's nothing special.
-I still want to see it.
-Okay.
Maybe I could leave
some of my stuff there?
Whatever you like.
Do you remember how you always
wanted to come here? When you were in nursery school.
No, I don't remember that.
-Well?
-I didn't expect you to show up.
I came to cheer you on.
-Is Paul still inside?
-Yes.
Laurent is always late.
He does it just to avoid seeing me.
Shall we go?
-I just wanted to see him.
-And now I'm caught in the middle!
Calm down. I just wanted to see Paul.
I find it very strange
that I haven't met him.
I'm speechless.
I think that "contact center"
suits you perfectly, actually.
You wouldn't have wanted me to meet him
even if you had a normal life.
Excuse me?
Do you hear yourself?
What if Laurent had seen you?
"A normal life"? What does that even mean?
This is my life. I've been fighting
to see my child for two years.
Paul...
...is off-limits.
-If you don't get that, then leave.
-No one talks to me like that, Clmence.
-Can you stay until I fall asleep?
-Okay.
After this, we never see each other again.
Hang in there, sweetheart.
I'm sorry.
Excuse me.
Can you help me?
-It's blocked...
-This thing never works.
-Which photo?
-That one.
That'll make a perfect bedroom for Paul.
Should I paint one of his walls?
Can you paint?
No...
Please leave the white walls alone.
Put up some posters.
It'll be perfect, sweetheart.
It's going to be wonderful.
Next time, Laurent emails
two hours before to cancel.
And then again the time after that.
He also cancels our
Saturday session at the contact center.
The center emails him.
He never responds.
It comes down to the hearing.
They've set a date in February.
He requested that Paul be heard.
I found out afterwards.
Paul told the judge
he didn't want to see me
and that he never missed me.
He didn't call me "crazy" this time.
That was better than last time.
Hello.
-Haven't I seen you before?
-Yes.
-No progress?
-No, or I wouldn't be here.
I believe you.
I probably shouldn't
say this...
...but you seem like
a decent person.
Someone you can actually talk to, I mean.
Me and my paperwork... none of it
is going to change anything, and you know it.
At some point, it's too late.
Children grow up,
and you can't get that time back.
And that's what
the people up top don't understand.
Childhood goes fast.
Anyway...
Tell me what happened.
At 11:10 AM, I arrived at the home
of my ex-husband, Laurent Lvque.
I should mention that I won the case
three months ago.
I am now entitled to custody of my son
every other weekend and half the holidays.
A ruling that my ex-husband
has not once respected.
At 11:10 AM, I arrived at his
apartment.
There I met Gontrand Ducourt,
a friend, his lawyer...
He opened the door for me.
There were two other friends inside,
Isaac Hofmann and Guillaume Bloy.
Laurent said that this way
I couldn't make anything up,
since there were witnesses.
I asked to see my son.
I walked down the hallway
and went into his room.
My son was lying on the bed, under
the covers, just like the last time.
Laurent was there too.
My son didn't respond to
my questions. Didn't move.
I sat on the edge of the bed
and asked Laurent for help.
He replied:
I can't force Paul
if he doesn't want to see you.
He spoke loudly so the others could hear.
I told him he was not
respecting my rights
and that this wasn't helping Paul.
That I would be filing a complaint.
At 11:20 AM, I left my son's room.
In the living room, Laurent said:
"Eventually you'll get tired
of all this nonsense."
Do you have anything to add?
Yes. This is the eighth time
I've filed a complaint.
I believe it will be the last.
Last night, while cycling,
I realized something.
I was on my way back to Belleville,
crossing Paris,
and I realized that the grief was over.
Not a passing moment of sadness...
...but that all-encompassing grief
that colors everything.
I realized I had mourned my son.
I realized it was done.
I had grieved him.
I felt fine.
I hadn't felt that good in years.
It hit me all at once.
Like waking up cured
after having the flu.
Thinking back, I hadn't even
dreamed about him in months.
I almost called the lawyer to say
I didn't want anything anymore.
Not even the weekends or holidays.
I realized it was pointless,
since none of it was working anyway.
There was nothing left to say. Nothing left to do.
I barely see him anymore.
We don't know what to say to each other.
We're becoming strangers.
It'll fade away.
The memories from my
life with him are fading.
Or rather, they're still there somewhere,
but they no longer suffocate me.
I can see other children now
without thinking of him.
I find them sweet.
It doesn't make me sad anymore.
It's no longer
a piercing pain.
Soon he'll be old enough
to choose not to see me at all.
And that's okay.
Or maybe he'll want
to come back and live with me.
You never know with teenagers.
Translation: Mats Wennberg
Ordiovision