My Old Lady Page #4

But what is so wrong about my idea

- about dividing it into two apartments?

- It's unacceptable.

Why? What do you want?

I want to buy the entire

apartment from you...

and keep it exactly as it is.

And I'm prepared to offer you

3,000 euros a square meter.

You're joking. Right?

Mr. Gold, if you had a heart or a soul,

you would accept my offer.

The apartment is worth 10 times that.

You heard Wah-Wah's offer.

That was just his opener.

Let me simplify things. By contract,

we are due to receive 2,400 euros

from you in one week, precisely.

If we don't receive our money

in a timely fashion,

our lawyers will instruct the court to

have your contract made null and void.

Bon aprs-midi, Jim.

- Sorry.

- Come in. Come in. I was just reading.

I just had tea with your daughter.

Now, that... that pleases me.

Does it? I'm not sure your daughter

would share your enthusiasm.

- Oh, are you still not getting on?

- Not so much, no.

Mrs. G, I want you to know

I'm trying to be fair.

About the apartment?

I offered your daughter

an extremely reasonable solution,

and she rejected it.

This is something you

must resolve with Chlo,

- for obvious reasons.

- Why obvious?

I'll be dead, won't I?

Right. Well, anyway, I wanted you

to know I'm trying to be reasonable.

Is your daughter going to be

having dinner here tonight?

Well, ye... Well, no. It's Wednesday.

She teaches a night class and she usually

has dinner with her friend beforehand.

- She has a friend?

- She has.

Male friend?

Yes.

Has your daughter ever been married?

Not at all.

Do you find my daughter interesting?

Are you a serious jazz person?

Do you know I saw

Django Reinhardt play guitar?

At La Grosse Pomme, Montmartre,

about 50 times. Or more.

Genius.

Seems a hundred years ago.

Poor chap. He died so young.

I had a romantic liaison

with Django Reinhardt.

Well, no, it was more

a flirtation, really.

You know, just a fling. A fling.

You had a fling with Django Reinhardt?

Well, Paris was different then, you know.

It was just after the war.

We were young and carefree,

in love with love.

Every day was filled

with romantic possibilities.

This is actually a fact? You really

had a fling with Django Reinhardt?

I did. I did.

You devil. That's very cool.

Did you ever, like, date Sigmund Freud?

No.

I may not be back in time for dinner.

- Are you going out?

- Yes, I... I feel that I should.

Mademoiselle Girard!

- Fancy meeting you, of all French people.

- Stop it.

- Stop it!

- Oh, it takes great pictures.

It doesn't work as a phone anymore

because I didn't pay my bill.

It's also good for telling the time now

that your mother's taken my watch.

- So, where are you coming from?

- Work.

Really?

- You work?

- I do!

- I teach.

- Really? What?

- What, "what"?

- What do you teach?

- English.

- Where?

My mother's school.

It's a bilingual French-English school.

We sold... She sold it.

But you still work there?

While the school still exists, they're obliged

to employ me. I was part of the sale.

Let me guess. Your mother arranged that?

- She did.

- Yeah. That seems to be her specialty.

So, tell me.

Who's the guy in the restaurant?

What?

The guy in the restaurant.

He looked familiar.

I think I saw him duck into a

hotel with you the other day.

But today he didn't seem quite so happy to

see you, what with the wife and all,

the kids. You know?

- How dare you?

- Oh, I dare!

You give me all that holier-than-thou

crap about family and tradition,

and you're doing the hoopie with

somebody's husband, some kid's dad?

And I'm a heartless bastard

because I want to sell an apartment?

- This is not your affair.

- Oh. Good choice of words.

I'm just wondering if it might be worth,

say, 2,400 euros a month to somebody for

me not to sit down with that man's wife...

and, you know,

have a little conversation...

over a caf filtre

and pain au chocolat.

Please don't do that.

See? Just when you think things

are really bad, they get terrible.

"If you do not love me,

I shall not be loved."

- Bonjour.

- Yeah. Bonjour.

Mrs. G, are you, by any chance,

the charity that got my inheritance?

No. Not at all. Not at all.

But...

you knew my father pretty well.

Your father and I were lovers

since I was 29.

If you want to know for whom you

are named, you are named for me.

I am Mathilde. You are Mathias.

Bonsoir.

The end of my wagonhood. Cheers.

Midnight in Paris.

- What?

- Oh, there you are. I've been so worried.

- You've been drinking.

- Drinking, getting robbed.

No wallet. No phone.

My head feels like a broken arm.

- I've been terribly upset.

- Well, that makes two of us.

I'd like to ask you some questions.

I'll try to answer them.

When exactly did you meet my father?

Just a few years after Chlo's

father and I got married.

I knew. I knew when I met him

he would be the love of my...

No! Spare me the fromage.

Where was my mother when

this was happening?

In Paris.

- They'd just met.

- So...

So my father married my mother

after you two already hooked up?

We were young.

My husband was

very successful in business,

and your father was penniless.

It just seemed the best plan.

I...

How is it at my age

I can still be shocked?

Well, I'm shocked that you're shocked.

During three marriages,

you never had a lover?

I'm sorry to disappoint you, Madame G.

Some people...

do the right thing.

Well, why would you know the right thing

and your father and I not know?

What is so especially

clever about you...

and your way of understanding life?

Well.

I know...

my pain. See, I know the pain that you

brought into my life, and I don't like it.

- Oh, just stop drinking.

- Why?

It's only an escape.

Bingo.

Mrs. G, I... I'm sorry.

I fail to see the wonder of you.

It's no surprise that Max loved you.

You're his soul mate.

Max Gold was the coldest

son of a b*tch I ever knew,

and I have known some

trs connards froids!

I will not hear this.

Wait.

Wait! You will hear this

if I want to say it!

You tell me my father was Casanova

and St. John the Divine combined,

and I'm supposed to, what...

sit there and nod? And you...

But when I try to point out that my

father was less like St. John...

and more like Captain Hook,

you just won't hear it, will you?

Your father was loving,

kind and generous to a fault.

I'm sure he was!

With you, but not with me.

And certainly not with his wife.

I remember!

I remember being a kid and watching...

my mother.

I saw.

I knew. I knew.

Look, I-I have no doubt that

what you're saying is the truth.

But this particular truth is your truth.

Not mine.

Definitely not my mother's.

I don't have a friend in the world.

When my friends see me coming,

they cross the street.

Oh, no, no. They're terrified

that if they get too close,

they're going to catch some loser virus.

That's exactly what your

father said about you.

Excuse me?

That you drink too much

and you have no self-esteem.

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