Laurence Anyways Page #5

No, it's far more romantic.

Picture it:
a hermit,

a cave-dweller,

who lives in the sewers,

discovers the letters.

He collects them, reads them,

then starts dreaming.

Even envies that love, perhaps.

I think I wrote

a thousand letters, that time.

I still remember the room

in that little cottage.

All of this is off the record,

of course.

I could've written

her a song instead.

Ne Me Quitte Pas.

Something like that.

Belgians speak slowly,

but they keep it simple.

Where are you?

What are you wearing?

What are you doing?

Excuse me?

Where are you?

What are you wearing?

Those were...

questions I'd ask myself

when I woke up.

Thinking of her.

And I'd go to bed...

with the same questions.

At some point, I needed answers.

Three-Rivers, 1995

Leo?

I'm ready, hurry up!

Ma.

am?

Excuse me, where's the cardamom?

If there's any left, it should be there.

Otherwise, use some ginger.

Or curcumint. Same crap.

Do me a favour, Leo,

don't crush the apples.

Here we go, Leo... candies.

I bought stuff for your friends tonight.

I thought we'd go out for lunch

for a change. It's Christmas.

The streets are empty.

Isn't that weird?

Lunch? Out?

Were you talking to me?

You know I can't hear

a thing with these on.

Ever gonna remember?

So what is it?

Would you like to go out for lunch?

And bump into people? No way.

Today is the 24th.

And I have things to do.

Before they get here.

You said you'd join us

for champagne after your shift.

Are you still joining us after your shift?

Yes!

Hey, can I borrow your car tonight?

What for?

Errands.

Stores close at five.

I already bought all the food we need.

Not that kind of errands.

It's not...

Come on!

Here.

Why? Why did you bring so much?

Stop whining, it's Christmas!

Are you moving in'?

Or going on a world tour

with f***ing Jules Verne?

Where's your Christmas smile?

You forgot your make-up artist

on the backseat!

I missed your sister!

Thank God for caterers!

I'm so not ready.

Everyone's coming at 5:30 sharp.

I'm freaking out.

They're all so f***ing punctual!

Some even come early.

How rude! How provincial!

- Where's Albert?

- I told you, he's with a client.

My cardamom cake!

That cake just won't die!

I'm happy to see you.

Sometimes I...

I really am.

You know, if you ever feel...

Well, feel I mean if you're free

for a week-end, call me.

I'll pick you up and drive you back.

I already visit once a month,

you know.

I know!

Ouch!

Someone regrets married life!

Excuse me?

Frdrique?

Leo won't take his bath.

Soap destroys his magic powers.

Not his power to piss me off.

Pure fantasy!

When did you start smoking?

How much do you need?

To buy yourself a decent winter coat.

Look at you!

- The Little Match Girl.

- No, thanks.

But I'll take cash

for a little coke instead.

Pickles!

Dumb b*tch!

Jesus, Mary!

Full confession on Sunday!

It's okay.

Let me help you. Let me help!

No! Just get out of the kitchen.

All of you!

Sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but...

Watch it, kid!

Kevin, honey, come here.

All is well, butterfly.

Your shindig's a triumph!

Stay calm.

Damn it!

Don't. Only me.

I regret what I said.

I have no regrets.

The lady of the house!

Watch out, it's a mess.

Everywhere.

I hear you're Miss Congeniality?

Bouncer, chef...

That's a lot of hats to wear.

Will you get a bottle from downstairs?

Honey?

The wine.

Let me just clean up first.

Poor Auntie!

She went through hell with this kid.

Sons! There's no lookbook.

Do what you can, ma'am.

Where's Auntie?

Poor thing.

Every year, our Polish neighbour

has us over for her fish zuppa.

Auntie's always had a dramatic tummy.

But she said Ograh,

the Polish neighbour,

tried to poison us.

She sat all night long

making love to the toilet bowl.

She's still at the hospital.

Screaming Poison!

Tastes like fish sperm anyway.

It makes no sense. Any evidence?

The evidence?

She pissed it out her ass!

Let's drink.

I'm so happy!

I raise my glass to my family.

Daniel...

Simon...

Teresa who is throwing up in Montreal.

Chantal...

To Charlene, our hostess.

And to Laurence's book of poetry,...

which is due next month!

A toast to Laurence, our host.

Host-ess!

Silly me! Hostess.

And poetess!

My father used to say:

Poets never dress for winter.

But winter for them is no harm,

for a poet's heart

keeps him warm.

Unless it burnt to ice.

Beautiful!

Mama's little poet!

Cutie pie!

Enough! Cheers everyone!

Merry Christmas!

To success and more sex!

Sure, Shookie.

I'm seeing a lawyer next week

to finalize the paperwork.

They're doing research, inquests, stuff.

It can take months.

But I can wire you some money.

- Are you sure you're okay?

- Yes, mom.

I'm swamped right now.

Tons of manuscripts to read.

I'm good.

You look great!

Why?

Why? Because. You look great.

Your make-up, your eyes, your outfit...

You look great.

So do you.

Will you come to my loft

when you're in town?

What loft?

Don't you ever listen to me?

I told you I was going to move.

I found a loft downtown.

You changed sex,

I changed my address!

Anyone in your life?

Yeah.

Ever hear from...?

I like Charlotte.

We rented a small cottage

for next weekend.

She understands me,

she takes care of me...

And vice-versa?

Are you being honest?

Here.

This is for you.

- A present.

- You shouldn't...

Come on!

We're going to miss your bus.

When you were a kid and took the bus,

you always called to check in.

It was annoying.

Really annoying.

I don't like obligations, conventions...

I always saw you as a woman

who just lived in the house.

Never as my mother.

And I never saw you as my son.

But I do see you as my daughter.

Seasons fall from branches

Her back lies against tranquil skin

Hope hurts in the house she's in

Where we winter like a wounded beast

Still the whitest bricks couldn't keep

A ROSE FROM BLOSSOMING

Plumart Publishers.

I'm calling from Canada.

I'd like to...

I'd like to send a letter

to one of your authors.

You have crossed the borders of my life,

of my town, of my street.

All that's left is my front door.

I think you know where to find me. Fred.

Milk? Sugar?

Your coat.

Need a hand?

Want to take it all off?

Not yet.

- We have three hours.

- It's a lifetime!

How long have you been spying?

For over a year.

How did you find out?

Laurence, you sent me your book.

I'd be surprised if your arm

was long enough

to reach from Paris to here

and paint a brick on my house.

Good job.

With the pink brick, I mean.

Want to make a list?

This little Balinese dancer...

Slightly to the left.

That's too much.

That's too much?

Wait.

Now we can't tell!

Ok, these two...

these two decanters...

Switched.

Perfect!

This little bull...

The bull and his friend the mermaid...

The mermaid fucks the bull.

Want some dark chocolate?

You've changed!

I knew you'd say that.

Wasn't it a strong sign of men's

self-destructive nature?

Why the self-inflicted torture?

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