DEEP CRIMSON
Charles Boyer.
Teresa. Carlos.
Hurry up. I'm late for work.
Wait, Mom.
Let's go.
INJECTIONS ADMINISTERED FROM 7:00 TO 10:00 P.M.
Did you read about the affair
between Boyer and Lamarr? What rubbish.
His true love is a French girl far more beautiful than Hedy,
more carnal.
He's a carnal man.
Lamarr is just cute,
no sensuality at all, Don Dimas.
Unlike me.
Understand me, you old rascal?
Look here.
Coralito.
Do up your uniform.
I and Don Dimas...
Fat pig. Disgusting pig.
What did you say, little brat?
Yes, I'm fat - from looking after you.
Fed up, too. So take your bath, and make it snappy!
And bathe with your little brother, because I'm very busy with Don Dimas.
- Together? - Together.
- Boys and girls don't bathe together. - In this house they do.
Because it's late, because I'm a nervous wreck,
and because I say so. Me, the fatty!
This can't be. I don't have the time.
I'm too busy supporting both of you.
Ouch, Coralito!
Don't, Coralito!
Take it easy. Don't get me mad.
Easy!
I saw you. You have no shame.
You're hurting my father. That's the limit.
- I couldn't find the vein. - Sure you couldn't.
I swear I'll tell the neighborhood.
I've got friends. Let's go, Dad.
I didn't hurt him.
It was just a little jab.
Stinking whore. Stinking old coot.
Now what?
It's my braids. I can't undo them myself.
Now go to bed.
- What about dinner? - Not tonight.
So you won't get as fat as me.
I won't stand for any accidents today.
I don't want to hear a single peep!
I'm sorry. Some days I'm like this.
I'm sorry.
Sweetheart.
Good night, Mommy.
"Spanish gentleman
bearing a certain resemblance to Charles Boyer...
seeks woman to share sentiments.
Anxiously waiting."
He wants a picture but doesn't specify looks
or weight, nothing at all.
Why not?
What can I lose?
Maybe I'll end up with a Spaniard who looks like Charles Boyer.
"Dear...
Senor Estrella,
I enclose
my picture -"
Me, skinny, skinny, skinny.
"...and I hope
our meeting
will take place
as soon as possible.
I am very romantic by nature.
I like
rainy afternoons
and...
romantic novels."
"I, like you, love movies
and dancing under the moonlight.
So I invite you to my house
with no other intention than a visit conducted
in decency and decorum.
I, too, count the minutes and the seconds
until our encounter."
I know. I've got it.
You would say, "Pictures always lie."
Like the one you sent me for our wedding.
But this one's barely two years old, so it's still recent.
Then you'd say, "Surely something is fishy there."
And I'd answer you,
"My love, please excuse my poor manners,
but your inheritance was far more paltry than you ever expected in life."
But it's been months now since we've - or rather since I've struck pay dirt.
Therefore, Fabre.
A, B, C, D, E, F.
Fabre, Coral.
Address. Here it is.
Here it is.
I know.
You're right.
It's an awful name.
The worst-sounding in all the Lonely Hearts Club.
But nobody's to blame
for their name.
Parents give them that.
And, as you know,
in affairs of the heart,
it's all method.
Method, not guesswork.
Anyway,
if this deal doesn't pay off,
I'll find a way to get my return ticket.
Nicolas Estrella.
Coral Fabre.
Come in.
Silk stockings.
They call them lady's drinks, perhaps because they're so sweet.
I'm sure you're thinking I should stay away from sweet things.
I'm a bit overweight now, but that's only temporary.
I'm lazy.
But when I make up my mind, I lose weight.
How lucky to be able to control your body like that.
You didn't mention your adorable children.
They're so good and well-behaved that I forget they exist.
Of course.
And you support them?
I'm a nurse in the terminal ward, that kind of stuff.
I was even in charge of the morgue. I embalmed cadavers.
Now I see patients here.
- Would you like some? - No, thank you.
I shouldn't bore you.
No, it's fascinating to hear you talk.
Could you turn that down? I suffer from migraines.
At the moment, I'm having a terrible one.
So I trust you'll excuse the brevity of this visit.
Later, by written missive,
our souls will come to know one another.
- Missive? - It lends itself to spiritual dialogue.
- It's because of my breath. - Your breath?
You must have smelled me. It's not my fault.
I use clove breath mints. I gargle.
These odors come from working with formaldehyde at the morgue.
They're my body odors.
Who cares about body odor?
A woman should steep in her juices,
if you'll forgive my directness.
Forgive you?
Only a gentleman speaks like that.
I must go. Rain's on the way.
Never be ashamed of your body.
The body is the temple God made for love.
It was an accident.
I'll save the pieces.
They'll be a souvenir of the Spanish gentleman.
It was an accident. Forgive me.
It doesn't matter. They're everywhere. It's the latest hit.
I'll pick up another.
Who's there?
You're back.
And me dressed like this. I didn't expect you.
I couldn't break your record just like that.
In Spain,
Quixote taught us to look upon our Dulcineas with the eyes of the soul,
no matter what their physical appearance may be.
I've never been with a gentleman.
Do it to me.
Just do it. As a favor.
Come on.
Did you like it?
It doesn't matter. Tonight is mine.
Nobody can take it from me.
It was like making love to Charles Boyer.
Exactly the same.
I've never known a woman this way.
Flesh and aroma.
Flesh and aroma for me alone.
Your body is like that of an ancient goddess.
Never be ashamed of it.
Now, time to sleep.
Damn, it's way too late.
Nico.
Do you remember me? It's Coral.
You must certainly think the worst of me,
and you're entitled to.
But I assure you, it was only a loan,
a natural thing in a relationship as intimate as ours.
The money?
I saw you robbing me.
Maybe you were charging me for excess fat.
The rate of my excess weight.
They're all right.
They're almost dry now.
- Like little animals, the poor dears. - They're soaked.
It's unthinkable to take children out on a night like this.
I came to stay with you.
We're made for each other.
You saw that yourself.
You'll be a father to these children.
- You'll see. - Stay?
Are you serious?
You're mad. You should be committed.
Providence brought us together.
Destiny and providence. You said so yourself.
No, you can't just take these things lightly.
You're a mother with children.
You owe it to them. You must care for them.
You're their mother. They're your first obligation.
They come after you.
I know it, and you do too.
Coral, an awful destiny has befallen us.
I can't accept you here with your children. Look where I live.
A family can't fit here.
I can't offer you the lives you deserve. There's no way.
I'd work.
We could rent something else. I'd work for us all.
I swear.
Things aren't like that.
I can't allow a woman to support me.
Much less could I care for another man's children.
A man has his honor,
all the more so if he's Spanish.
So it's because of my children?
It's our destiny
to find one another, go our separate ways,
and keep the memory,
a memory lined in velvet.
Could I stay tonight?
It's raining.
Just tonight.
Make yourselves as comfortable as you can.
After all, you're dealing with a gentleman.
As a gentleman you can't keep them,
but as a gentleman you can take them in?
Until tomorrow.
Until destiny reunites us.
Don't leave us. We won't make any noise.
We'll be quiet all day long.
No, you'll get in the way.
Do as I told you.
You don't know my name, where you live, absolutely nothing.
I have to do it. It's for your own good.
Someone will adopt you and give you a really big home,
and toys and a plastic doll for you.
In the letter I ask them to keep you together,
not to separate you. It's for the best.
I'm not worthy of you.
Promise you won't remember me.
You have to be sensible.
You must learn to watch your heart.
Be brave, my little girl.
Mommy!
I said be brave, damn it!
What are you doing here?
We agreed you'd leave.
I gave you my reasons.
Not anymore. Everything's changed.
Now you have no reasons.
I'm free of all those.
I gave up my children.
That makes everything easier.
I'm not a good mother.
I'm a better lover, right?
You did what? You gave them away?
Now nothing can separate us.
Bitch! You were going through my things.
You're insane! You give away your kids and spy on me. You're mad!
I'm mad, but I'm no fool.
You live by extorting money from women.
I wasn't the first to write you. I'm no child!
You're not even from Spain. You fake it.
I don't extort money from anyone.
I help single women overcome their loneliness.
I was born in Spain but grew up here. I came here as a young boy.
I use a Spanish accent because they like it.
It lets them pretend.
I help them. I fulfill their dreams.
Some are generous with me.
It's no crime to give me presents.
You force them to be generous.
Like Angela, your wife.
She was so generous it cost her her life.
What are you saying? What the hell are you saying?
A nurse knows how insulin can put a diabetic into a coma.
I found forged insulin prescriptions, a death warrant,
the whole thing.
But I'm the only one who knows.
And if you let me stay here, I'll continue to be the only one.
I just want to be with you.
Here, together, with you forever.
If you throw me out, I'd rather die. I'll kill myself.
And if I kill myself, what will you do?
They'll discover everything.
You won't even be able to remove my body. I'm too fat.
The police will come and find me, your letters, and everything.
Kill yourself here?
Here, for you.
You want to stay here?
Knowing everything?
Really?
Yes, to care for you.
I'll take charge, I swear.
You'll keep your business,
and I'll pretend to be your sister.
You were going to kill yourself for me?
For me?
I'll make the business respectable.
I'll select the prospects.
I'll never betray you.
You've cost me so much already.
You cost me my children.
That's my best guarantee.
I've already started working.
When I went to town, I took the opportunity
to post a little letter announcing your arrival.
Take my knife.
It's yours.
I'm giving you my knife and all that I am.
You left your kids for me?
For me?
Nobody's ever...
Nobody's ever done anything like that for me.
In your letters you never mentioned you were from Spain.
We all inhabit the nation of the heart.
- Borders don't - - You hid that for some reason.
All the Spaniards around here these days
are all pinkos, communists.
Needy people, unemployed,
defeated, without families, without references.
I have my reputation to protect.
Get me some letters,
bank references, work papers,
and then we'll talk.
Two, please.
Look. Her life savings.
Her dry, skinny life.
Providence really did bring us together.
That, or maybe the devil himself.
How did I ever live without you?
You weren't living. You were waiting for me.
The next one is a widow.
Better. Single women are sharp-eyed and wary.
Juanita Norton.
Don't put that in your mouth.
Each of us has our own flavor.
Why would she make the appointment here?
It's strange. Such a forsaken place.
She must be discreet.
Coral, my sister. She comes along wherever...
I'm late because they didn't want me to take the car.
They suspected I'd come here. But I got away.
Even if they suspect me, I always get away.
You can't go out?
To converse with a friend?
To share one's feelings is a beautiful thing.
You have an accent!
I couldn't tell from your letters. An accent.
You have no idea how much I like you speaking as a Sevillian.
Keep talking.
You're wearing the hat from your picture.
Who wouldn't let you come here?
Bring some rum and Cokes.
Beer is for truckers, right?
Rum and Coke
loosens the tongue,
the soul, the body.
If Osvaldo even thought I'd run off to meet a Sevillian,
a pure-blooded gypsy, he'd die.
But he'd kill me first.
I'm no gypsy. I'm Spanish, from Huesca. Upstanding people.
Almost the same thing, right?
Plenty of rum.
And don't try anything clever.
After a while they water down the drinks,
and they don't taste like anything.
Osvaldo doesn't like rum. He's a beer drunk.
Nothing but beer.
With his beer belly, droopy, round and disgusting.
I'm going to toast my friend.
My new friend.
"Friendcito," as Norton would say.
And his sister,
our dear sister.
Today the check and the party
are on Norton and me.
I don't understand why we have to meet here.
Because it's the only place Osvaldo won't look for or find me.
My husband. Osvaldo is my husband.
You said you're a widow.
I am a widow.
The widow of a real man.
I get together with Osvaldo. I copulate with him.
I'm his concubine.
After Norton, I can't remarry, much less to anyone like Osvaldo.
He's the jealous kind. Deadly jealous.
What he does is lock me up.
He guards me, snoops on me.
Don't you just hate men who keep watch over their women, ma'am?
Sometimes.
Men always keep watch over me.
Osvaldo too.
Still, as much as he watches me, he knows I'll always be "the Widow."
That's what they call me over in Laguna.
That gringo Norton's widow.
He was a gentleman. Fair-haired, tall, silent.
One of those who open car doors
and light your cigarettes.
You know the kind.
I never once heard him burp.
Really, never.
Don't you hate this light?
For women of my age...
this light is kinder.
It hides the passage of time.
You don't need filters.
You're full-bodied. You can face the light of day.
Whereas I'm a woman past her prime.
Osvaldo says
that I deny the passage of time,
that I live in a fantasy, and I tell him, "Yes.
That's all I have left."
I never had children
or family.
Nothing at all.
I have my fantasy.
And that's mine.
All mine.
Osvaldo, my husband,
keeps saying,
"That poor devil Norton" - my other husband...
"was too penniless to get himself buried,
and now he's dead."
But we all remember him. Must be for something, right?
Penniless?
In your letter you said he had means.
- You said - - I said, I said.
I always say too much.
Norton was rich, but only in spirit.
It was all here, like me.
Anyway, I'll only be rich when Osvaldo dies.
Do you know how much he gives me a month?
Nothing.
Not a crumb.
He settles the household expenses with the maid.
He incarcerates your sensuality in a prison of poverty.
An old and ignorant macho.
He's starving me,
killing me with tedium, closing me off, stifling me.
He's holding me prisoner.
Nobody can imprison you. He can never deny your freedom.
That's yours.
Freedom to do what, to go where?
Leave Osvaldo and his miserable pennies? How?
I'm just a stale woman,
overcooked in make-up and dying of boredom.
That's my diagnosis.
I annoy you, don't I? I annoy everyone.
Even myself.
I'm old and ridiculous.
I was born crass. I didn't choose it.
Is that so?
It's not crass to want to breathe.
Take your freedom by the horns, by force.
Strip away your fears. Come with us.
Go home and take all the money that belongs to you.
What money?
The change the maid leaves in the cookie jar for cigarettes?
He only gives me gas money.
My wings.
The wings of a caged bird, my little luxury.
Leave him. Come with me.
You think I can?
I'm old,
and a woman my age without a man to keep her is nothing.
Nothing. Shit. Zip.
I'm no dope.
Every morning I wake up gripped by fear.
Fear of growing old.
There's no way to stop it. That clock keeps ticking.
Let's talk about other things.
Or shall we dance? Come on.
You want some more? Juanita will give you more.
They're yours. And if your sister doesn't mind,
I'll give them to you in a while,
when we're alone together.
These places always have rats.
These dumps are full of rats.
Rats.
Now.
Now? Are you crazy?
Here and now, just like with her.
Let's go.
I don't want to.
Where are we going?
Osvaldo.
Sit down.
I don't...
I don't want Osvaldo to see me drunk.
Quiet, lady. You're going home.
I don't want to. I'm afraid.
Be careful not to vomit. Very careful.
You wouldn't want him to notice.
My overcoat. It's almost new.
I don't want...
I'm going to vomit.
What did you give her? Why did you do it?
For you.
Of course. For me.
And you'll look out for me my whole life long.
I know.
Lady.
Wake up, lady.
Shit!
My hairpiece.
The only one I brought.
It's ruined.
Ruined, like me.
It's my undoing. It's a fucking rag.
Fucking luck.
It was natural hair.
It's God's fucking fault. He hates me.
Don't talk that way.
I can't live without it.
I need it. I'm a monster.
Don't look at me! Close your eyes!
Can't you see I'm a freak?
It's my secret.
Nobody knows I'm deformed.
I live off my looks.
All because of these migraines.
- They make me lose my grip. - What do the doctors say?
Nerves, they say.
Easy for them to say.
"Just hang on. They'll go away."
I try and try, and nothing.
I don't need your pity.
She made you jealous because you're fat.
That's why you did it.
And now
I have your pity.
A fat lady's pity.
I don't need your pity. I need my hairpiece!
The embalmer at the morgue showed me.
"You never know when it might come in handy."
And it did. Cute, don't you think?
I said I didn't want your pity.
What pity? You need to look good.
You're our livelihood.
Our bread and butter.
At the cost of your own hair?
At your own expense?
No, crazy girl. Crazy little Coral.
It'll grow back in a flash.
We need you looking handsome.
Look.
It's perfect.
It gives me a kind of French air.
Just like Charles Boyer.
No woman will be able to resist you.
You're sure this one is our best choice?
I'm sure. She's a homey little widow living on her own.
From Cantimpalo, Soria.
I'm not sure about it. She's somebody's mother.
We're all somebody's mother.
She contacted you because you're Spanish and Catholic.
Priests make me squeamish.
Besides, I don't know any prayers.
If she's Spanish, she'll notice my accent. I won't be able to fake it.
Sure you can. It's just about getting the story straight.
I'll do it.
I'll finish this in a flash, and then we'll go.
My mother taught me.
We'd sit on the patio where we talked and knitted.
"Ladies' afternoons," my father would grumble.
He wanted me to be a real man.
If he could only see me now. Living off women.
A real man.
You don't know how it hurts me to see you with other women,
to see you touch them.
I try to keep my composure.
Coral, you're the air I breathe,
my strength, my everything.
I'll never touch a woman.
They're just a job. Sweat.
I'll seduce them with words alone,
sweet talk and the odd kiss.
But never sex. Nothing that would hurt you.
I swear, Coral.
Come in.
- Do you have any bags? - We left them in the car.
I'm Coral, Nico's younger sister.
You weren't expecting me?
I imagined you more as a little girl.
- You look bigger. - I've always looked bigger.
And without a Spanish accent. The lisp, as they say.
- My good ear, perhaps? - Coral arrived as a child, as I did.
We just adapted to local customs.
One can lose the accent,
but the heart remains in Spain.
- One never loses that. - Never.
We are born with Don Quixote inside.
And there he shall remain.
This way.
- This is Mrs. Silberman. - A pleasure.
Coral. Such an odd name.
Is it a Christian name?
I haven't had the good fortune to visit your province. Soria?
Segovia.
My mother was born in Cantimpalo.
Excellent chorizo.
And you? The two of you?
I'm from Oviedo.
I am too.
Naturally, as any good brother and sister.
How many days will you be around here?
As many as necessary to initiate our work.
Our children await us, and we mustn't let them down.
They're with "Helping Hand."
They've come to Latin America to do missionary work.
I thought these lands were already Christian.
You thought both correctly and incorrectly.
This is the Lord's most faithful flock, but the armies of Luther threaten.
We bring food, comfort and such things
to the poor of the continent.
The last time your countrymen came to bring aid to this continent,
they left a slew of dead Indians.
Baptized, of course.
No, that's the dark legend spread by England
to discredit Spain.
- You're not from around here. - I wasn't born here.
I chose to be here. And here I am.
And just as screwed up as everyone else here. I chose that.
Mrs. Silberman lives next door, but she's not from here.
She's made that quite clear.
And what will you Spanish ministers do with your collections?
Now you've started.
Ma'am, we don't take money from here.
On the contrary, we bring it, although you may not believe so.
I believe you, I do. I believe every word.
That you're both ministers, that you bring money. All of it.
I'm feeling gullible today.
I even believe you're really from Spain.
What don't you believe about us?
I'm an atheist and an anarchist,
a professional disbeliever.
But don't mind me. It may all be just an old woman's raving.
Yes, she is an atheist, an anarchist, and all that.
And you were just leaving, right?
Excuse me.
All right, Sara, see you tomorrow.
Be careful. They're phonies.
Don't butt in. I didn't ask for advice.
I'm giving it to you anyway.
All our fussing and fighting must have endeared you to me.
I don't believe a thing about them.
You're a heartfelt disbeliever, aren't you?
And you're mistaken.
Remember:
"Blessed are they who believe, for they will see the Lord."
Saint Luke?
Irene Gallardo. Me.
Forgive her. She's so thoughtless.
She was just raised differently.
She's Jewish, but you can hardly tell.
Father Matthew told me not to break off my friendship with her.
Tequila?
Father Matthew says she strengthens my faith.
I think we should thank the Lord for this happy gathering.
To heaven To heaven
To heaven I yearn to go
If to heaven you will go
And there receive your palm
To see the Lord in body and soul
You must love and serve Him well
When your children left, why did you stay?
Would you believe I don't have an answer?
Sometimes I tell myself, "Go be with your own."
Maybe that's why when I read that you were Spanish,
I decided to write.
I said to myself, "He's a countryman."
I mean, I don't write things like that every day.
Here I am all alone,
alone with my soul.
With just one person,
Mrs. Silberman.
My only friend in life.
And the works of charity.
Yes, and the works of charity.
Our works of charity.
- Shall we sing? - Yes.
But no more sorrow.
Christ wants missionaries jubilant in His divine grace.
Of course.
Let's see if I remember.
Let us sing...
You sing too, Coral.
The one you like, "I love to Yodel."
I said no.
Leave her alone. Let her sulk.
The bitch separated us on purpose. Aren't we brother and sister?
Yes, but brothers and sisters don't sleep in the same bed.
Suppose you told her that's what they do in Mexico, and ole.
She'll hear you, and ole, ole.
- Let her. I'm sick of her. Kiss me. - Not here.
Where else? In hell?
Here and in hell.
Good morning.
I lost my robe, and this was all I could find.
If you'd just say something, I'd lend you one of mine.
And if it doesn't fit, well, I don't know.
A bedsheet?
A tablecloth.
Like this.
You'll catch a chill.
I won't catch a chill. I'm perfectly healthy.
I can tell.
Coffee?
Yes, please.
The lady and I were discussing crusades.
I've almost convinced her to join our cause for Christ.
What's the point of wasting a life
bored to death inside these four walls?
You two, on the other hand, are so full of plans and projects.
Yes. Magnificent.
Magnificent, isn't it?
Coral, after mass,
why don't you take care of that business at the post office?
I'll stay here. We'll knit and keep each other company.
All right. Excuse me.
Sorry, lady. I have to close. It's very late.
Hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day...
our daily bread,
and forgive us our trespasses
My God, it's so dark.
Irene and I have been talking, and...
Oh, Irene?
Yes, Irene and I.
She's coming with us.
She's joining the cause of Christ.
And...
We're going to get married.
Really?
Thanks be to God.
Are you sure?
God bless you both.
Have you called on the priest?
We were about to, but...
I don't want Father Matthew.
My God, why not?
Well, because...
I'm too embarrassed.
Leave that in my hands.
First thing tomorrow morning, I'll take care of it.
And now let's celebrate.
I've never done anything I'd be ashamed of.
But to leave like this...
What about my family?
We'll take care of them. You'll see how we'll remedy that.
I don't know if it counts in a cemetery.
Cemeteries are sacred ground.
I don't know.
Maybe those next to a church, but this is just a barren hilltop.
God is everywhere. Besides, the dead are sacred.
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.
And so, before God almighty,
we consecrate ourselves as husband and wife
in sickness and in health,
in joy and sadness,
until death do us part,
forever and ever.
Do you have any rooms?
Sure, park your car by those bungalows.
These are your rooms. Sorry about their condition, but we're remodeling.
Good night.
- Irene. - What?
It's time to sleep. We have to get up early.
Now what?
We were consecrated in the cemetery.
In certain cases the church accepts marriages without a priest.
But he's over there, and I'm here.
The church and the law of God are not everything.
What about your papers? And your reputation?
Reputation? Nobody knows us here, so what does it matter?
What does it matter? It matters!
I'm a woman of dignity and honor.
I wasn't about to take a motel room with a couple of adulterers.
Adulterers cheat on their spouses.
Nicolas and I are widowers. We're not cheating on anyone.
We're married.
Married in an emergency rite, but married nevertheless.
We have the right. Canon right.
What's the matter?
Go back to your room. You'll catch pneumonia.
This is a construction site. Look at this dirt.
No, it's the same over there.
Go back. Someone will see you.
- That's what that witch says. - Who?
Your sister.
She shouted and wagged her finger at me.
She called me an adulteress, and I'm a widow.
Anyway, she's not like you.
You're refined and elegant.
And her... she stinks.
I can't sleep.
It's as if there's something dead in her mouth.
You and I were consecrated in the church.
It wasn't exactly a church.
You said cemeteries are sacred ground.
Yes, but I've thought it over. What if it's a sin?
I mustn't force you to sin.
You're a pure woman.
No, I'm not a pure woman.
I'm a widow. I've known marriage. I've had children.
Anyway, I don't want to be pure. Not any longer.
I couldn't be disrespectful to you or my sister.
Your sister.
It's you and I who matter.
Come to me.
For too long my bed has seemed too wide.
Now God is uniting us.
How can that not be good?
"Let your wine spill into my chalice."
Song of Songs, verse 23.
No, I can't. It's not right.
You're a decent woman.
I'm your flesh,
your wife.
One soul and one flesh.
What the hell is going on here? What's this madwoman doing?
We're husband and wife.
We have a right to be alone.
Throw her out! She's just a fat, bitter woman without a man.
Without a man?
You old slut. If you only knew this man is mine.
The man you think is yours is mine.
My flesh is his flesh.
He's my man, only mine. All mine.
Swine, get your hand out of there!
God in heaven won't pardon you.
That's incest!
You pig! Even savages don't do that.
Not even African savages.
You sow! Pig!
Dear God, forgive them! Forgive them!
Sinful pig!
Our Father, who art in heaven...
Shut her up, Coral. Shut her up. They'll hear us.
Shut her up. I can't stand it.
I'm the sacrificial offering.
The paschal lamb.
Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be Thy name.
Forgive them, Lord.
What did you do?
You're crazy.
We can't leave her alive.
You have to hold her there.
She must be kept upright until rigor mortis sets in.
She got away from me.
I mean, it's not my fault...
"I mean" nothing. If she doesn't keep this position,
we'll have to break her legs with the iron pipe,
and that will be noisy.
Don't you worry.
I'll handle it.
What if they realize the shovel's missing?
They'll think it was stolen.
Anyway, that's better than believing they've found a body.
In the morgue I learned how to touch them up a little.
I made them as cute as little dolls.
As if they were napping.
Look at her. She's better-looking now than when she was alive.
But they'll notice by daylight,
and if they do, they'll find us out.
Want to wander around like murderers?
For God's sake, no. Not murderers.
What are we then?
We might just as well watch over her
and keep her company.
She could use it.
- Thank you. - You're welcome. Have a good trip.
Who's the next date?
Another widow.
Sanpedro, or something like that.
From her handwriting, it seems she's an older woman.
She has an automobile business,
and you'll run that for her.
Me?
Like this? Or like this?
This way I can cook without my hair in my face.
After all, who am I trying to impress?
Business is business.
All right,
like this.
Just for today.
Good evening.
Mrs. Rebecca Sanpedro?
Nicolas Estrella?
Spanish cooking, just like back home.
Home cooking.
My husband taught me.
He knew about everything. He was interested in everything.
He did everything well.
From him I learned a woman needs a strong man.
- A gentleman. - You must miss him.
More than you imagine.
No, let me.
I wanted to help before I went to bed.
I'm tired,
and you must have so much to talk about.
Not at all. Nothing by ourselves.
I have one business and you,
you have another.
Business?
Is that what affairs of the heart are called these days?
- Ma'am, I - - That's what I call them.
I contacted you because I need a man.
All women need a...
Not like you think.
It said, "Skilled in mechanics."
In Spain he was a mechanic for many years.
If you don't want a man, what do you want?
I need someone to run the shop.
Someone to care for my daughter.
Someone to stand up for me in town.
You don't know what it's like to live in a shabby town. A backwater.
To be a young widow and have all the men stare at you.
- You don't know. - No, I don't.
You want an employee?
How would I pay an employee?
I'll barely get by until I pay off my loan.
Before he died, he bought 80 acres.
Good acres, not wasteland like this.
Things will be different later.
But until then, it will be hard work.
Mediterranean men make good husbands.
Old-fashioned, sympathetic.
I need to get to know you
to see if you're one of those.
I propose we court for two months.
Then a wedding.
If that doesn't work out, I'll pay you as a mechanic.
You can stay with your sister in the house out back.
Do you remember her?
The dead woman?
Sometimes. And you?
Sometimes.
Best not to remember. Good night.
I'm not very familiar with these American models.
I work best with European cars.
It's only temporary lodging.
I didn't expect he'd bring his sister.
He does nothing without me. He adores me.
As a sister, of course.
It was a Lonely Hearts column, so I assumed...
You're not the only one who needs to take precautions.
Here. I'll bring you bed sheets later.
Come, Mercedes.
Hey, Rebecca. Let her stay a while.
Just a while.
Until lunch. Half an hour, Mercedes.
Come on, sweetheart.
I'll sing you my daughter Teresa's favorite song.
Look.
A pretty August afternoon
The light was very...
I'll never ever sing to you again.
Get out. I'll never sing to you again.
Get out, snot-nosed little imp.
Brat.
Beat it.
You're awake?
So what? I always wake up while you snore.
I went over her accounts. She's lying.
And you are too.
She said this was a business affair.
It's not my fault. It's the only way I know how to work them.
And she's responding.
I'm sorry, Coral. My dear Coral.
She's a whore.
You've seen her. She always starts it.
I don't know how to fix cars. All I know is this.
That's all. It's not my fault.
She pursued me, and she keeps pursuing me.
She's on the make, the floozy.
Let's find someone else.
Let's leave. I didn't pick her, you did.
You said she was a widow - old, ugly and rich.
I was wrong, you see.
I was wrong about everything except that she's rich.
She's loaded to the gills with cash.
But only in the long term. She has no liquidity. I was wrong.
We'll stay for now and squeeze all the money we can from her.
It's my turn, because she's a slut.
Of course. Because she's a whore, right?
- Why do you play with the girl? - Oh, for God's sake.
I just do.
Because I'm trying to win over the mother. Because she's a nice kid.
And mine? What about my kids?
They were nicer than that little snot.
My kids were nice kids.
And you threw them out. You made me do it.
Me?
You made me choose.
But you haven't told her to dump her kid.
No, you just get all silly playing around with her.
It's different. It's work!
With me it's always different.
I left my children. They didn't want that.
They begged and cried, and I left them.
What's worse is I'd do it again.
Eat.
In this house no one's forced to eat.
Nobody.
Though it's plain to see you don't understand about eating.
She has to go.
She mistreats my child. I've seen her.
Coral? My sister?
She has to go.
It's been two months since you left, and all I do is think of you.
Only you.
You're part of everything I do.
We're accomplices.
The same flesh, the same blood.
Nothing can ever tear us apart.
Come back, damn it.
With this heat and your absence, my migraines have returned.
I discovered your secret.
Thought you could fool me forever?
Give it to me! Give it here, you whore!
Give it to me, you shitty slut!
You didn't want me to know you were bald?
Give it to me or I'll kill you.
- You've ruined it! - Let me go!
I'll show you.
I'll teach you prudence.
Prudence and decorum.
Laugh at your fucking mother, and your shitty little brat!
Laugh at your husband, not me!
No floozy has yet been born who can ridicule me!
That'll teach you!
Learn what it's like to laugh at a man!
I'm a man of honor!
Go on, laugh at me, you little shit!
Laugh your ass off!
What the hell does she know about honor?
Or pain?
She wants an abortion.
You swore you wouldn't touch her.
You swore.
You did.
You gave your word.
Punish me.
Go on. Step on me.
Step on me.
I betrayed you. I don't deserve you.
Step all over me. Step on me like a worm.
I came to help you.
Wait for me outside.
- Why help me? - You said it yourself. I'm a nurse.
Does it hurt?
What if it does?
Take these pills. Chew them.
Why help me if you hate me?
It's Nico's child, right?
You think I'd let you have it?
Don't worry.
It's grown-up business.
Did you find the dead man's signature?
No.
- Did you look in the bedroom? - Not yet.
I was waiting for you to finish,
until it was all over.
Did you give her the anticoagulant?
Why do you think I bought it?
That's it.
She should have lost all the blood she needs to lose.
Here it is.
What are you doing? How dare you?
What do you want from me?
What have you done to me? My God, what did you do to me?
- Go away. - Wait.
Take everything. Leave me alone.
Help!
Stop her! Take charge!
Do what you have to do! Do it!
My daughter. Don't touch her, not her!
Take care of her! Promise me!
I promise you.
I promise.
How come you don't like it now? Eat this, you little brat.
It's what mommies give their kids
when they're afraid. It's what all mommies do.
Eat it.
There's no way to calm her down.
There's only one thing to do.
Only one thing, and you know it.
No, not her.
She'll calm down.
The poor thing's just nervous. She saw it all.
She saw everything this afternoon.
She'll forget it and calm down.
Then what do we do with her?
I'll give her a sedative. I know how.
I'll teach her. I know how.
What must be done
must be done.
That's what you always say, isn't it?
No, not you. Me.
Let me take charge for once.
Let me take care of you.
No, I know how.
I know better.
It was my fault, right?
I couldn't calm her down. I didn't know how.
It was my fucking fault.
I'm her mother now, aren't I?
It's up to me.
What an ugly light!
My kids had a pink lamp,
with little ducks hanging from it.
Now you're mine.
The water is just warm enough so your body can't feel it.
At 73 degrees,
the body can't tell the difference between the water and the air.
Now you're my child, my little daughter.
Come, I'll make you smell nice.
I'll leave you smelling sweet, my little one.
A bath is a ritual.
Give her to me.
I'll take her to her mother. Give her to me.
We have to leave.
We have to go. They'll be coming for us.
She must rest with her mother.
I'm her mother.
She has my heart-shaped mouth.
- Give her to me. - No, give her to me. She's mine.
I won't let you. Give her to me. She's mine.
Come.
Come on.
Sit down over here.
Why did we do it?
So she could be with her mother.
I mean all of it. Why?
To be together.
You see, things like this join two people forever.
Yes, forever.
We're accomplices.
Eternal accomplices.
Nothing and nobody can separate us.
We're united in blood.
Yes.
United in blood and in death,
forever and ever.
Nothing could be better.
I have to do what I have to do.
Will you forgive me?
The bodies are here.
I buried them myself.
No, both of them.
Irene Gallardo's body is on the Cananea highway.
Do I really have to take it off?
Yes.
The law says detainees may not possess disguises
that could cast doubt upon their identity.
But I'd prefer to wear it.
What if the press shows up and...
You probably think it's silly,
but I'd prefer they didn't see me without it.
You know how they try to make you look stupid, and when they get here...
Right, there'll be lots of press tomorrow,
and photographers too, all wanting to take your picture.
In your dreams, maybe.
Anyway, the wig comes off.
That's the rule.
Come on. After all, rules are made to be broken, right?
Not this one.
Why not?
Just because. Anyway, what for at this point?
What are you going to do to us?
What do you think, pal?
After all, where can I hold you? You tell me.
That fat woman is on hold at the school next door.
And that's only for now, because today is Saturday.
Then where do I put her? In the church?
Here I have her nearby, where I can keep an eye on her.
Then?
So then?
Her too?
Didn't she do the same things?
We don't have cells for women around here.
Around here, women don't kill.
When the time comes,
can I wear the wig?
I just wouldn't want her to see me without it.
Let's leave her with a different image, all right?
How long will you keep me here?
How would I know?
They just told me to clean up.
They said a prisoner was here,
in handcuffs and all that.
Are you hungry?
You can share my sandwich.
You noticed I'm a big eater.
Even in these final hours, I haven't lost my appetite.
What's going to happen to us?
How would I know?
I just mop up.
Yeah, what would you know?
You only do the chores.
You shared your sandwich out of sheer kindness.
Never share your food with a fat woman.
I've just about finished the whole thing.
Take that path over there.
Let what will happen, happen. The sooner the better.
We can't run away from destiny.
We have to run for it? Let me...
Give me a chance to tell my kids.
Just give me that chance. Have pity.
Pity? Imagine that.
Start running, fuckers.
It's bad enough that I let this monkey wear his wig.
They're going to hunt us down like animals.
Like beasts.
Coral, let them. Let them shoot you.
That way it won't hurt.
Easy, take it easy. It's coming.
It's coming, princess. We'll be together forever.
It's strange.
I think this is the happiest day of my life.
Let's go.