Moscow, Belgium (Aanrijding in Moscou)

Shit, they have forgotten the coupons for the toilet paper.

I think we have everything.

Fien, could you take care of the trolley?

- Damn. - Mom, what are you doing?

Yeah, I'm sorry, I was going in reverse and...

Yeah, you know, I'm sorry.

Sorry? What good is sorry gonna do!

- You'll have to pay up, madam. Pay up. - Why?

What do you mean, why? Do you see that dent in my truck?

That's gonna cost a pretty sum. I hope that little wreck of yours is insured?

Hey, some respect. Who says it's my fault?

Hey! You were the one going in reverse. You didn't look in your rear-view mirror.

- Why are you here with that monster of yours? - I know that kind of trick.

- Trick? - You can't fool me.

- Get your European accident statement. - Where is that dent?

- Madam, you're looking at it. - That? You call that a dent?

- While my trunk... - OK, don't start. Don't start.

I know women like you. They're all the same.

Sir, madam. It's always better to stay calm.

I am calm. It's Mister Viking with his ten tonner who isn't calm.

- You must be having your period? - And I bet you're still living with your mother.

Madam, sir.

- Now I get it. - What?

Men with trucks. The bigger the car, the smaller the stick.

Have you ever looked in a mirror? It's not just your car that looks used.

- You want me to call the police? - Sure, make the call.

Calm down. There is no need. We can settle this amicably.

Forget it. We're not going to do anything amicably. Just make that call.

- God damned. Crazy bitch. - Mom...

Back in the car. Mommy is fighting.

I have a proposition. I leave, you leave, and we forget the whole thing.

- And my trunk, who's gonna pay for that? - It's only a scratch.

You're gonna wait here with me till the police arrives.

- You and your European accident statement. - Let me leave. My stracciatella is melting.

- Your what? - My stracciatella. My ice cream.

No one calls me a crazy bitch.

Women. All leeches.

I'll tell you a little something, you shit-ass driver.

You sit there high and dry in your seat, but you can't see what happens around you.

Everything around your truck is a blind angle. In fact, you are blind.

You think you see everything in your truck, but you see nothing.

And today you haven't seen me. Today I was in your blind angle.

- What's your name? - Is that any of your business?

- It doesn't hurt to tell me. - She's called Matty.

- Back in the car, damnit. - I've got something for you. Just a second.

What is that?

Oh, no...

- Someone wants a lolly? - Give it back. Come on.

- From Italy. - Leave my children alone.

- Italians make good lollies. - I'm not listening.

They're from Milan.

You know how they say lolly in Italian?

- A lecca-lecca. - Now don't start a conversation.

I'm not talking to you. I don't know you and I don't want to know you.

You can call me Johnny. Matty.

- Nice name. Short for Mathilde? - What are you doing, prince charming?

- Come on, calm down a little. - And he's hitting on me too!

- Woman, don't be so hysterical. - You are a first rate asshole.

Oh, no, I can't believe it.

Well, well, well. Johnny.

Oh, my, they know you.

Just one last signature here.

- Here? - Yes, there.

- You want to have a copy of that? - You can mail it too.

That's good. That is settled.

Bye.

John, your turn.

Come on, get in.

- Hey, you. - Dad.

Hey, dad.

- Why are you so late? - We were in a crash.

- Yeah? Mom's fault? - It was a ten tonner.

And the driver's name was Johnny.

- Oh, and don't bother giving me a hand here. - Did a truck hit the back?

No, I hit that truck with the back of the car.

Again six years of no claims.

- Two policewomen stopped by. - Oh, yeah?

- Could you take a look at that? - You have to take it to the garage.

How is school going, my little guy?

Don't let them mess with your head.

I'm doing great.

- They already give us sex education. - Oh?

Hey Matty, I have to go.

Sure, you can't let what's-her-name get worried.

Just take your backpacks. Daddy is a bit impatient.

- And Vera? Where is Vera? - It's Friday evening.

- Yes and? - She is almost seventeen.

- What do I still have to say to her? - Mom.

Here. Go to the car already.

- Make sure to be careful! - Yes, yes.

- And what else? How are you doing? - Fine.

- How is what's-her-name? - Gail.

- Oh, yes, Gail. I always forget. - Good, good.

Very good.

Must be exhausting at your age, no?

- Gail is pretty adventurous. - What did you expect? So young.

Matty, please.

But the time to iron your shirts she doesn't seem to have.

I still love you a lot too. Do you know that?

You know that?

Go on. The adventure is waiting.

Vera, please.

Vera, turn that down.

Hello?

Who is this?

Mom, are you taking a bath?

No, a big black guy is giving me a massage.

A certain Johnny.

Hi, Mr. Johnny? My mom can't talk on the phone. She's taking a bath.

Yes, maybe in half an hour. No, wait.

How did you get my number?

You read it on the police form? And why are you calling?

Yes, no, you shouldn't have said that.

You have the manners of an asshole. What?

No, you don't have to come and fix my trunk. I'll find a garage. What?

No, but... Just walk to Italy and buy a lolly.

- Asshole. - Got lucky?

You don't want to know.

Fifty, seventy, ninety.

Ninety five and twenty three cents. There you go.

- That's precisely right, my dear. Thank you. - Bye.

Hi Matty. How is your health?

- OK, Mr. Jacques. - There are a lot of tears in the world, aren't there?

- How many? - 354.

He was young. 62. Cancer. One in three, these days.

- It's because of Chernobyl. - 354, that is 128,50.

It will be a beautiful funeral. With Bach during the service.

- I'm happy it's not Vivaldi anymore. - Too many violins, isn't it, Mr. Jacques.

- Right, Matty. You understand my trade. - 128,50 plus 1,5 euro.

And your receipt.

See you soon, Matty.

See you soon, Matty.

He can't wait till the next one drops dead so he can come and see you again.

He once asked me out to dinner.

It's like the Last Supper.

You don't think that's funny?

What's going on?

What's going on?

My husband is going through his midlife crisis, my oldest daughter through puberty...

my youngest thinks she's going through puberty and my son can't seem to get there.

And my car has to be fixed. My life is all tears.

It's Werner, isn't it? How long since he left?

- Five months, two weeks, three days. - Don't keep track. It's not healthy.

And there are always more fish in the sea. You have to go out more.

He'll be back Nicky. I know him.

- With that young little thing... - Passion lasts six months tops.

- Then it's over. I know everything about it. - That means he still has two weeks to go.

You're keeping track again.

I don't know if I can keep taking it all.

Let me tell you something.

People are always stronger than they think they are.

- In hindsight maybe. - Of course in hindsight.

If you would know it in advance...

Ask me something, mom.

- Mom. - Fien, not now.

Mom, please. One question.

How long untill the potatoes are cooked?

Mom, serious.

- Will I win the lottery? - OK.

- Vera, do you want to set the table? - In a minute.

- You've just lived through difficult times... - Really?

- And you have to think positive. - They are only cards, OK, mom?

Vera, what do you know about that?

- Blood sausage, again. - Your brother needs blood.

Peter is autistic.

Come on. He just needs to leave the house from time to time.

- Mom, your last card. - What idiot calls at this hour?

Vera, would you go and check?

The star. That actually means a shooting star.

- You can make a wish. - Hello?

- So that's a good card. - Who?

- I think dad is downstairs. - Ah, the truck driver.

- Damn it. - Yes, just wait.

Go away or I'll call the cops.

- What's wrong? - It's for your trunk.

- What? - The trunk of your car.

- You have no right to be here. - I'm here for your trunk, that's all.

- I'll find a garage. - I do it for free.

- What? - I do it for free.

Give me ten minutes and I'm out of here.

- The car is over there. - Fien, go inside.

OK, perfect.

Shooting star...

Mom, your blood sausage.

How is it going?

- I can take it to the garage instead. - That won't be necessary.

What are you cooking?

Blood sausage.

How is your bumper? Have you gotten over it yet?

- Yeah, yeah. I've smoothed the dent out. - Some dent that was.

But I guess whoever touches your truck, touches you?

- My truck is my life. - I knew it.

- Without trucks the world would stop turning. - So you're important.

Blood sausage.

- Anything else? - Sorry?

Well, blood sausage... With potatoes? Applesauce?

- Yes. - Anything else?

- Some mustard. - I knew it.

- What do you mean, you knew it? - Mustard gets into your nose.

You can't smell anything, or taste anything anymore, and it makes you cry.