Camion

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Marcel, you there?

Yeah, Germain

I'm here.

Are you loading up?

No, I'm already at the sawmill.

Is there a long wait?

No, it's real quiet.

It's faster this morning.

Rivard's the one doing the loading.

Good, I'm on my way.

All right. See you in a bit.

- Face the other way!

- Careful!

Can you hear me, ma'am?

Ma'am?

Can you hear me?

Come with me, sir.

Just over there

to the patrol car'.

Take your time.

I was on the right side.

I didn't see her coming.

Is she all right?

Is she gonna live?

That's all I wanna know.

They'll take her to the hospital.

They'll do everything they can.

Don't worry.

Backside in first.

Watch your head.

Samuel? Hello!

Hello?

It's Germain.

Could you call me back

when you get a minute?

I'd really like to talk to you.

Right. Bye then.

12.. 30 a. m. OK...

There are two neon lights out

on the 18th floor

and about a dozen on the 19th.

They've been out for a while.

Change them as soon as

they burn out next last week time, OK?

There's a couple on the 20th floor,

in the meeting room.

Password's show last week

was kick ass.

No, I finished up too late

at the bar.

- When was that?

- Friday.

Remember the guy

who got up onstage at the end

with the guitar with three necks?

- That was awesome.

- Totally!

My sister's out of control.

She's, like, dating

two guys at once.

And they're both in the same band.

Neither one of them

suspects a thing.

She takes turns going out with them

two or three times a week.

She's always doing stuff like that.

Don't they talk?

I don't know how she does it.

Wouldn't surprise me

if she made up a name

or if she's pretending she's me.

We're twins.

What are you doing now?

Do you mind giving me a ride too?

No, no.

So, how was it, handsome?

- God, I love you.

- What are you talking about?

You love me like a mother.

No, I love you for real.

When did you call?

I just checked my messages.

I don't really use

my home line anymore.

Well, I was in a pretty

serious accident with my truck.

I'm all right.

But the woman

in the other car is dead.

She died at the hospital.

No, a woman from Maine.

Near Basley, Marker 31.

I'm at the end of my rope.

I don't know what to do.

It's times like this

I really miss your mother.

Don't talk like that.

Dad?

Break?

Jacob hasn't been showing up

for work much these days.

Are you two going out?

Are you nuts? Of course not!

I don't know, the other morning...

That was just one time.

Doesn't mean we're going out.

Are you like your sister?

What do you mean?

Nothing. I don't know.

How long's it been

since you kissed a girl?

I don't know...

Not that long.

You're really stuck, aren't you?

Like a rock.

Not a rock. A tree branch

swaying in the breeze.

You could be right.

Cheers.

F***, you're beautiful.

That's pretty close, isn't it?

I don't know anymore. Try it.

Well, it's just as ugly.

This isn't working at all.

Maybe let it dry a little.

The boss is giving me my time off.

- Is he?

- Yeah.

I think my dad

will be happy to see us.

It can't hurt anyway.

Same old Sam. Always worrying

about other people.

I'm a bit concerned about him.

This is a waltz that talks about

the swamps and the Cajun identity,

both of which are facing the same

threats, says Thomas Michaud.

The Americanization

and industrialization

of our culture

the wetlands, our resources...

Thomas Michaud

is nevertheless optimistic.

We're going to save our culture.

We're going to save

our fishing industry

and the coastal wetlands.

We're going to save it all.

I have complete confidence

in our community

and in nature itself.

Nature's very resilient.

It can't be killed off.

What are you doing

in this hellhole?

Hey, first... Hi!

Dad was right.

You're actually living in a motel.

Why not?

It's as good a home as any.

It must be costing you a fortune.

I pay by the week. Works out

almost the same as an apartment.

Well, your truck's

actually not beat up too bad.

But she got you good, all right.

It's more like I got her good.

Come on

don't say that, Germain.

She was on your side of the road.

So what are we doing with it?

Have our pal at the scrapyard

junk it and sell the parts.

No way. We can fix it up.

Your insurance will pay for it.

Don't bother.

It isn't worth it.

It's just an old truck.

Are those for me?

Actually, they're a goodbye present.

I'm leaving, Marlene.

- Really? Where are you going?

- Back home.

I wanted to give you something

to remember me by.

You know I'll never forget you.

I'll miss you.

I'm sending everyone goodbye texts.

Pretty high-tech, huh?

You drove straight here?

Without stopping at Dad's?

I wasn't up to it.

You know, you could've called and

saved yourself a 12-hour road trip.

The only thing Dad knew was that

you were in a motel in Saint John.

Lucky you didn't head

to St. John's, Newfoundland!

F***! I thought

I gave Dad my cell number.

If he had your number,

he would've called.

He isn't the one

who sent you, is he?

You could've called around.

There can't be that many motels.

You wouldn't have come

and you know it.

Anyway, it won't kill us

to spend some time together.

There's around 30.

Thirty what?

Motels.

I swear!

It bit me right here, and here.

- A shark? A real live shark?

- Ask Sam. He was there.

No, no. Don't get me involved.

Tell me the real story

and I'll dance with you.

Good luck getting the real story.

OK, the real story...

I used to drive a truck

in the States.

And I'd always sleep

in the loading dock

to be first in line

the next morning.

One night, while I was asleep,

a bunch of black guys

bursts into my cab

and starts beating up on me,

I mean really pummeling me.

But I always kept a baseball bat

under my pillow, just in case.

So I swing and bash one of them

right in the head.

So hard the bat breaks.

Then they jump me.

One of them pulls out a knife

and stabs me.

The cops are pretty sure

the one I clobbered is dead.

Pretty f***ed up to think

I might've killed someone.

- I know guys who have.

- You do?

Anyway, I can't work anymore,

but I get insurance money and stuff.

I can do whatever I want.

I do miss playing

the guitar, though.

Was that true?

Basically.

Nice story.

Not bad, huh?

All right, I'm going to bed.

It's not early. It's midnight.

And you're not the one driving.

Bye, girls. Good night.

Nice to meet you.

Good luck.

Try not to wake me up

when you come in.

Good night, gramps!

Listen to this song.

It's amazing.

- Who is it?

- Richmond Fontaine.

- Is it old?

- Shut up!

Listen. Listen to the lyrics.

- I can't understand a word.

- Jesus, you don't let up!

He said.. "I was there for a week.

We hired an immigrant. "

Got it?

"Sprawl" means "big, spread out. "

I f***ing love this!

It's awesome how he says..

"A janitor. " Like you, bro.

Why are we listening

to such a depressing song?

I could've written this.

That's exactly

what my music would sound like.

The next couple days

will be depressing enough.

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