Caray, Caray!

There was a lot of wailing, weeping and gnashing of teeth this episode.  Roberta, Ingrid and Natalia were all fighting for the Hysteria Honors.  I'll let you decide who, if anybody, won the grand prize.  But let's start at the beginning....

The breakfast chez Paolo is going badly.  He's venting about the horrid person who hit him and left him for dead, as an anguished Natalia listens-- and gradually realizes she's the culprit who ruined his life.  Way to kill the mood, Paolo, not to mention her appetite.  He's all over himself apologizing and she's all over herself getting out of there.  Seems there's an urgent errand she has to run for her dad.  Leaving Paolo and the breakfast behind, she flees at top speed.  And  in such a hurry she leaves her cellphone behind.  Pal Dante thinks it's a ploy.  "Hey, just means she wants to see you again."  Paolo's  not so sure.  He's afraid he blew it with his angry rant about the accident.

At the office, relationships are equally fraught.  Roberta is fixing Alba with a death glare, and chastising her husband for representing a heartless lady who "unplugged" her husband.  Alba wisely departs, while Roberta is merely ramping up with more.  When Franco quietly points out the lady has none nothing to Robs to merit that treatment, she snarls "Oh yes she has! She's come between us!"

Depart Roberta.  Enter Gael.  He's heard all the uproar which Franco dismisses with an ironic "the sweetness of married life"[ mieles del matrimonio] Gael suggests sending wifey some flowers and pffft! it'll all blow over.  Now back to business.  Franco wants him to find some witnesses to the accident. (Guess what Franco? the star witness is your very own daughter.)

At the front desk, another harridan, Ms. Ingrid, out of her blowsy bohemian gear and tarted up in a short black suit and 4-inch heels, is harassing the receptionist.  She wants to see Franco Urzúa immediately, and don't try and tell me he's not in! (He's not. He's whipped down to the café to pursue the lovely Alba.)  Head honcho Monroy overhears the brouhaha and with a quick check of those shapely legs, invites the frothing Ingrid into his own office to wait.  When she unloads her complaint--your law office (bufete) is defending a murderess, a woman who killed her husband, a good man who wanted to live, wanted to raise his son-- he's all ears.  And all eyes.  When she gets up to leave and stumbles (no wonder with those shoes!) he rushes to her side.  Offers to drive her home. Give me your address--you can't drive in this condition.  I'll need your phone number  as well of course.

 

Well, someone else wants an address.  Julián calls Natalia and is incensed when "the cripple" as he calls him, answers the phone.  Gimme your address, I'm coming over to get it right now.  And come he does, with a cartload of insulting advice, as in "If I were you, I'd put a bullet through my brain.  Really don't get how you cripples manage to keep on with your life and even enter those Special Olympics contests.  Wow.  But let's get one thing straight, my girlfriend doesn't like you at all.  She just feels pity for you. That's why she's being nice.  But gotta go now, need to stretch my legs.  You know how it is having to sit all day, right!"

Okay.  No Olympics, Special or otherwise for Juls.  He's just won the All World All Time Asshat Award.

Although another possible contender is the noble Franco.  Our dedicated family man is down at the café-bar flirting with Alba before getting back to work.   Some chat, some smiles, a kiss on the cheek, a squeeze of the hand, a tender look.  Yep, it's all there.  On his part and hers.  Even Bianca notices it.

Next we see Gabe phoning his mom to tell her about the funeral mass Ingrid has arranged.  He wants her to be there, but rushes the call because his possessive aunt is about to descend on him, fixing his hair and telling him how much he looks like his dad, her brother, and boy, should he be proud!

Not so proud is Franco, who now is briefly home and locked in another tense conversation with his rabid wife.  She's declaring total Franco Ownership, as in "You're mine! mine! mine! and this murderous wench is coming between us!"  Hub quietly replies that he's not her property , doesn't belong to her and if he's her husband, it's because he chooses to be each and every day. "Your paranoid jealousy is out of control."

-"If I were in jail, would you rush in to defend me like you did for her?  I want you to be concerned about ME!" -"I work everyday to support you and maintain your lifestyle." -"So I'm a burden! Finally you admit it! You don't enjoy this marriage.  You reject me, no kisses, no embraces, no nothing! You never touch me!" -"Can't we have a mature relationship without suffocating each other?" -"So I suffocate you! -" Sometimes, yes." -"And you're tired of me." -"No, not yet.  But I will be if scenes like this keep up."  "You want to leave me, right!  But no, no, never never leave me my darling [mi cielo] Never never!

Well he does.  Scoots right out the door and back to work. So he misses the next set of hysterics, starring Natalia, who rushes in, hyperventilating and googles Paolo, only to learn his promising soccer career was brought to an end by...yep, her very own self.  Hysterical crying and wailing ensues.

Mama Roberta, who overhears the ruckus, ain't havin' it.  She offers tea, pills, a whale of a slap--pretty much everything but a listening ear.  Her argument:  Paolo is not the one Natalia hit. Why folks are hit and left for dead everyday in Mexico City. It's. Not. Him.  Nat isn't convinced.  -"Dad's handling the case.  How long before he finds out that I'm the culprit? Mom, I'm rubbish, trash! Look what I've done!" -"There's no 'trash' in our family.  We're a PERFECT family.  A perfect family with money.  A family like everyone wishes they had.  Now straighten up and get a little Attitude!"

And there we have a nice little précis of Roberta's philosophy of life.  A bit narrow, perhaps.  But why judge?  Okay, yeah, she's a heartless skank in designer clothes. Who are we kidding?

Back at the office, Bianca has brought Franco some more coffee and when he asks for Alba, she explains she has time off to attend her husband's funeral mass.  He immediately wants to know in which church.  And she immediately knows exactly why. (Roberta's jealousy is not as paranoid as it would seem now, is it?) And good thing he's there, holding Alba's hand, because when Ingrid gets up to speak, she launches into an impassioned tale of her wonderful brother, who fought to live and raise his family, but SOMEONE ended his life before he was ready, and before God was ready.  Everyone turns in their pews and stares at Alba.  Outside the church, when Franco tries to defend his lovely client, Ingrid puts him quickly in his place.  "This isn't a courtroom; it's a private funeral mass for my beloved brother and for those who TRULY loved him."  All this while puffing furiously on one of many cigarettes.  (We can only hope for a little lung cancer as a parting gift .)  Alba gets a little snippy with Franco as well.  -"You don't have to always rush in and defend me. I don't want to have a problem with your wife." -"It's not a problem for me." -"Well it is for me!" And off she goes.

He's not the only galán left in the lurch.  Paolo is having another go at winning Natalia, protesting, on the phone, that he only has a couple of things he wants to tell her.  1) Your boyfriend is a first-class jerk. 2) I want to offer an excuse for causing you problems with Julián. 3) -"Wait, you said you only had two things." -"Well, okay, 3) I'm sorry for laying that sad story of my accident on you and making you feel bad. I'm an idiot. And 4) My friend Dante is singing in a band in a café-bar tonight and I'd like you to come. Uh, you can bring your novio if you want.  And lots of good-looking girls.  But really, it would help Dante to have a crowd. "

Stay tuned for what happens with this one.

Paolo is back at the law office, hearing the bad news about his case.  No surveillance cameras.  No businesses.  Quiet residential neighborhood.    At this point, Julián barges in.  When he hears about the adulterous fellow who saw something but didn't want to come forward, he dismisses it as a dead end [pista muerta]  Franco is still holding out hope but Paolo is incensed, both at Juls' dismissal and the lack of any tips.  "But perhaps he remembers something himself--the type of car? part of the license plate?  Man or woman at the wheel?" -"  Nothing.  Only that the car was going 200 km an hour and hit him."

Alright.  I know you won't believe this.  But the café-bar where Dante is singing is...yes! the same café-bar where Bianca and Alba work, Gael hangs out and Franco is now often lurking.  And imagine Paolo's joy when a beautifully dressed Natalia walks in, all by herself, and sits down beside him.  It's all going pretty well, until the lads rush out, lift up Paolo in a chair to the stage, and he joins in the crooning, launching his love song directly at Nat herself.  Devastated by her own guilt, she quietly slips out.  When he sees that she's gone, he's equally devastated.

Upstairs in the law office though, it's all cozy and harmonious.  Alba has brought Franco his evening coffee and they're having a wee chat.  She wishes he'd known her before.  Before she was so traumatized.  Then she was just a simple gal, always smiling , always laughing, always happy.  Happy for her husband and her son.  Ah, he's certain they're more alike than she realizes.  He too is big on family values.  And well, he can see why her husband loved her so: she's so genuine, so lovely, so generous...

Oh dear, let's just leave these two alone for a moment and return to our world-class jerk Julián. He's at the "perfect" Urzúa family home, demanding to know where Natalia is at this hour.  Maid doesn't know.  Maid is dismissed.  He calls and finds out that Yikes! Nat is at the police station, ready to do what she should have done two months ago--turn herself in for her crime.

As the police officer turns to look at her, she says firmly "I've come to make an accusation."

And there we end.

Labels: culpable