Dag

- Sleep well, Mr. Refsnes? - Not really, no.

Perfectly normal for day 3. the poison is leaving your body.

- Day three? - We had to give you a sedative.

You were rather delirious.

There's a group session in ten minutes.

This day's direction.

- Hi. - Hi.

So what's your problem?

I don't know.

That's going to make it more expensive.

I'm here to pick up the keys for Marianne's place, Dag's sister.

You're Eva? The Eva?

I guess I am.

Unfortunately, Dag isn't here. Or not unfortunately.

It's very good for him that he's not here.

- Where is he? - It's difficult to discuss.

What? Did anything happen?

He's in rehab.

Sorry. I had to take your picture when I said it.

A picture is worth a thousand words, they say, -

- but you're not displaying much emotion here.

Rehab, you say. Is he...?

A drunk, you think?

I wouldn't say that, but he needed to dry out some.

A fifth booze a day, some wine, valium.

- How long has he been there? - Just a few days.

He'll be back soon enough, ornery as ever.

- Should I make you an appointment? - No, the keys.

The keys, sorry.

I'm writing a western, you see.

- There they are. - Thanks.

Where did Marianne go to? Haven't seen her in ages.

Train-hopping. Recapturing her lost youth.

You're sure Dag is all right?

I hope so. He's a good guy.

Yes. So what happened? Why...?

He was deeply in love, and didn't know what to do.

So he shut himself off. Not uncommon.

His self-hatred made him get high. The higher he got, the more self-disgust.

- He's certainly not the first. - No.

- See ya. - Definitely.

This is my story.

Thanks for letting me share.

- Thank you, Hilde. - Oh, dear God.

Hi, I'm Helge, and I'm an alcoholic.

Hi, Helge.

Hi, I'm Helge, and I'm an alcoholic. I got here yesterday.

What did I do?

No, no. Keep going.

Hi, I'm Helge, and I'm an alcoholic.

Get to the point, then.

I'm Dag, and fucking sick of you being Helge.

Hi, I'm Grete, and I'm a drug addict.

- What's that? - I don't know.

"Drug addict" sounds so dramatic.

I started drinking the day I got my first period.

You got so worried the blood loss would leave you anemic -

- that you started guzzling red wine? And just couldn't stop?

My mom shot herself in the bathroom.

Probably a combination of her feeling old -

- and me having my period, becoming an adult.

She was free to do what she always wanted.

So she shot herself.

I tried to lift her head, -

but it was... She didn't have...

The back of her head, was...

She didn't leave a note or say goodbye or anything.

Except for a filled-out 5-week lotto coupon -

and a small pack of tampons.

She'd written my name on both items.

From then on, I was drinking pretty hard.

You can withdraw here, and observe as humanity -

dances its death dance.

Stand up and acknowledge that you are one of the dying.

Life, Dag. The gift that keeps on disappointing.

Remember that. Always.

Take care. Call if you need anything.

Bye.

Bye, daddy. Be good, Benedikt.

Yes.

Mister Refsnes, you have a visitor. He's waiting in the garden.

You...

I'm sorry about that in there.

There's no excuse for my behaviour.

No need to say anything. I know what it's like.

We've all been there. You're confused, angry and powerless.

You don't know where to do do your laundry or who to ask about what.

Just ask yourself. Where would you be if not here?

- Hi. - Hello. How's it going?

I feel the same way.

- Who goes first? - I'm all right.

- Your dad's good. - He's not my dad.

What happened now?

I lost my job.

It doesn't look like it.

I'm just pretending to go to work.

Fuck.

I know you don't need this right now.

No, fire away.

I've got time. Anything not related to my misery is welcome.

Watch it, or you'll turn into Malin.

So why did you lose your job, Benedikt?

I...

I bought new tits for the boss' daughter.

You did, didn't you?

It was take-your-daughter-to-work day.

I'm so sorry.

You're nice enough to take me out on a job, and all I do -

- is sit here like this. - It's all right.

It's good to cry now and then.

You know it's not true. You're a very pretty girl.

Girl, that's just what I am.

There's nothing womanly about me.

Look at me. I'm flat as a board.

"Flatbread", they used to call me in school.

I was the last to develop.

You don't need large breasts to be pretty.

That's a stupid ideal.

You're really pretty as you are.

My last boyfriend did the pencil test on me.

You know when you try to make a pencil stick under the breast?

It rolled right off, as if it was a desk.

Fucking moron. He broke up with you. That tells you everything.

Please, don't cry.

We'll figure this out, OK?

You.

- Is that what you really want? - Yes.

Totally sure?

You might regret it afterwards.

No.

OK, I'll help you out.

Thanks so much.

A week later, I took her to the clinic.

She said she would spend the night with a girlfriend.