Up for Love Page #6

- I was thinking more of table football.

- Table football?

I'm not playing table football for Diane.

Ping-pong?

- Alexandre?

- Yes?

- You called me?

- Yes.

Can you help us with the petits fours?

Yes.

Aren't there any napkins?

The... Could you grab the napkins

from up there, please, Bruno?

- Thanks.

- But of course.

- I'll kick your arse.

- Yeah, right.

Stupid dog.

Who are you writing to like that?

Was I talking to you?

Diane. I'm worried about her.

She said she has a new beau.

- The little man?

- How did you know?

It wasn't hard to guess.

And you don't care?

You think it's normal?

Philippe...

She's dating an invalid.

You live with an invalid too.

What are you talking about?

There's no comparison.

You're hard of hearing.

That's not the same. It's not physical.

What I mean is... it doesn't show!

Damn it! You know what I mean!

You're right.

I'm the one who lives with an invalid.

Philippe!

God damn it.

Want an ice cream?

- No, thanks.

- No? Will you wait for me?

- Hello.

- Hello!

My son, Auguste.

- Hello.

- Hello.

How about yours? Was the size all right?

- Yes, just fine.

- Great.

Hello.

Hello.

It's perfect.

It's no big deal.

Diane, it's no big deal.

- You OK?

- Just fine.

Come and sit down.

Are you mad?

- Aren't you?

- At what?

At life for making you this way.

I've never known anything else.

If I'd been tall before being short,

maybe I'd be mad, but...

Are you mad you're blonde?

- Do you hate me for being small?

- Come on.

How could I hate you? It's...

It's painful.

Now, pain is something I know about.

What's most painful?

My neck.

You never fell in love

with someone your size?

Yes, when I was five.

But she kept growing.

You're an extraordinary man.

You know that?

With you, I feel... loved.

Understood too. That's rare.

I miss you when you're not there.

I learn more every day.

You make the world a bigger place.

It's funny to say that, but it's true.

I want to live with you...

I really want to...

But you can't do it.

I asked you, Diane.

- "Can I go on?" Remember?

- Yes.

"Can I go on believing in us?"

I'm not six feet tall, I'm four foot five.

I never hid it from you.

You didn't only just find out. Right?

I know. You're right.

And I know

that what's most important is us...

that others don't count, but I can't let go.

It's all those images in your head

of what love is supposed to look like.

It's you who has

these images in your head.

Go home now.

Go home.

No. We need a green light from City Hall

before the Ministry of Culture's

authorisation.

Of course.

Monique! You've been dusting that

for ten minutes. I think that'll do.

Move on to something else.

We'll find ourselves in a deadlock,

like in Stockholm.

Hang on, please.

Monique. Finish the dusting.

Do that afterwards.

That's right...

Of course it matters.

The green roof is what they liked.

We can't start all over again.

I don't believe it.

Monique!

- I'm on the phone!

- And I'm vacuuming.

Make up your mind.

If that's how it is, I'm leaving!

Call me when you've calmed down.

- How's it going?

- Fine, thanks.

Forget about her, Dad.

She's not worth it.

Yes, she is worth it.

She did what she could.

How do you see me?

What do you mean?

How do you see me?

I don't know.

I see you in lots of different ways.

As a father.

As a talented architect.

As a friend, sometimes.

What about my size?

It's never bothered you?

When I was a kid, I didn't realise.

I started noticing how people looked at you

when I was a teenager.

My friends, their parents,

the other kids at school...

But I didn't give a sh*t.

Because you didn't give a sh*t.

Has being small always been painful?

Of course it has.

People either stare too much

or don't even see me.

I pretend not to care, but I'm lying.

I lie to myself, to others, even to you.

It's not lies. You're strong.

And you have dignity.

That's what I see in you.

Dignity.

I'm a bit tired of being small.

Your Honour.

- I'm Counsellor Berthier. Hello.

- Pleased to meet you.

- You represent my client's husband?

- That's right.

- You must be...

- Galle Lefort.

Your client's wife. Or rather ex-wife.

- Pleased to meet you.

- And you.

- Am I disturbing you?

- Not at all. Come in.

- What are you doing?

- Pretending to work as usual.

It's good to see you smile.

It's been a long time.

Since you're in a good mood...

I told Lefort

we're no longer representing him.

No way. You did that?

You're right,

there's no compromising with ethics.

- Wow, I'm surprised. You impress me.

- No, I wouldn't face facts.

The guy's a sleazebag

who treats his ex-wife like dirt.

Absolutely! It's scandalous.

I'm glad you see it.

That's why we're going to defend her.

Excuse me?

Yes, his ex-wife, Galle.

We're defending her.

You slept with her.

That's not the point.

- You're incorrigible.

- So what?

His dough is stashed in Luxembourg.

She has tons of proof.

- We'll ruin him.

- You're sick.

- We'll be rich! Diane!

- Good Lord.

Diane! Diane, listen to me!

Why don't you trust me?

Is Alexandre here?

No.

- He's in Lige?

- Maybe.

Do you know when he'll be back?

Please, don't treat me like this.

I'm not your enemy.

How am I treating you?

It's complicated for me too.

It's complicated?

You've hurt him enough.

Stop messing with him.

He's my father and I love him.

Leave him alone.

In fact, you're the midget.

You're an emotional midget.

Your body's normal,

but you're tiny on the inside.

A tiny little heart with

tiny little feelings.

But it's normal.

It all goes back to childhood.

They filled our heads with stereotypes.

We're completely formatted.

And when anyone's slightly different,

we can't accept it.

- You're right.

- We can't stand it.

We want everybody to be the same.

Want me to tell you?

We're Nazis, that's what we are.

A bunch of frigging Nazis!

Oh, sweetheart.

I'm so sorry, sweetie.

- This is very touching,

but it's a bit late. - Why?

- He refuses to talk to her.

- No!

It's never too late.

Find him and show him

how you really feel. Where is he?

- In Lige, I think.

- Then go right away.

- But what will I say?

- Who cares? He doesn't need words.

He only needs to see you.

Alexandre!

Alexandre, it's Diane!

Alexandre, it's me!

The parachute was a dumb idea.

But I wanted to show you

I wasn't afraid any more.

That I was ready to take the leap.

You know, like a metaphor.

But who cares about metaphors?

I wanted to say that I love you.

And that I'm ready to live with you.

I'm not saying it'll be easy every day.

That I won't want to...

slug people who stare at us, but...

I swear I've understood one thing.

I know.

I know that other people don't matter.

I know I'm the one who decides.

I know I'm the one who loves you.

And everyone else will get used to it.

I know that.

I'm free.

It took me a while, but I'm free.

I love you, little man.

Your neck will hurt. My back will hurt.

We'll suffer together. Who cares?

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