Almost Happy (2020–…): Season 1, Episode 6 - Rocha - full transcript
THE DIVINE COMEDY
"Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself...
within a forest dark."
In this way, Dante Alighieri commences
The Divine Comedy,
a masterpiece of Italian
and world literature.
Some maintain that by "forest dark,"
Dante refers to man lost
by his sins and vices.
On the other hand, I believe
that in the year 1300, Dante was aware
of the confused state
which man goes through in his 40s.
In other words, midway through life.
A NETFLIX ORIGINAL SERIES
ON AIR
ALMOST HAPPY
Sebastián, why on earth
are you doing this to me?
I told you 8:00, it's 9:00 a.m.
and you're not here. What's going on?
What's up?
- I told you at 8:00.
- You said 9:00.
Sebastián, I said 8:00.
Nine! Why would I lie?
- Fran, what time did I say?
- You said 8:00.
Turn around, please.
Do not involve my daughter
in our discussions.
- She's my daughter too, Sebastián.
- Mine too.
I said 8:00, look.
We said 8:00.
- I was sure it was 9:00.
- "I was sure it was 9:00."
Take care of it. Move.
Why is he sleeping here?
They got up early because their dad
was picking them up early.
- Panchita, help me wake up your brother.
- No.
- Help me.
- No.
- Put the tablet away.
- No.
Okay, keep it.
I'll wake up the little one.
Facu, wake up. Facu?
To the Buenos Aires Cultural Center.
I'm waiting for my wife.
- Oh, sorry.
- But I can take you instead.
- Take your old lady!
- Get up, Facu.
Panchita, help me.
I'm going
to the Buenos Aires Cultural Center.
All of a sudden,
I have 35 people under my watch.
Too much responsibility.
Honestly, for that same money,
I'm better off doing this.
I'm in charge of my schedule,
I'm my own boss. I mean...
I didn't ask you
which way you want to take.
The fastest.
Okay. We'll follow the GPS, then.
You know, we are going
to the neighborhood where I grew up.
The neighborhood that...
that made me who I am.
The neighborhood that showed me the ropes.
You can drop me here.
All right.
It'll be 215 pesos.
Here.
No, you put me on the spot.
It's my first ride today.
I don't have any change.
How can you not have change?
Why didn't you warn me?
You're the one who should be warning.
I can go get some.
No!
I'll just go.
Your change.
Thank you.
Excuse me, do you know
where Rocha's conference is?
I don't. But did you know
that a few years from now,
humans will run out of water and food?
- Want to help with your time, skills...
- Sorry, I'm running late.
Sorry, Rocha's conference,
do you know where it is?
- Rocha died.
- What?
Wait, the one who died is Rosas.
Rocha is still alive.
And the conference?
In that room.
ARGENTINIAN LITERATURE
JESÚS ROCHA
Next question?
Sorry.
Good afternoon.
Questions?
Excuse me.
Sorry.
Next question?
Rocha. Here.
Political movements
and different political processes
affect literature's narrative
and aesthetics.
I wanted to ask you,
how do the different Peronisms affect...
Argentinian literature today
is trapped in its own self-righteousness.
Anyone who writes a fragment
thinks they have a coming-of-age story...
Today, we put more value in some dude
who writes two lines in some social media
than a writer who constructs
a solid narrative.
Yes?
Sorry, but I came expecting
to listen to Jesús Rocha's conference,
not the audience's pretentious questions.
What's your name?
- Sorry?
- What's your name?
Pilar.
I dedicated the beginning
of the event to the lecture.
If you had arrived on time,
you would have heard it.
You were right, in my opinion.
I mean, it's okay, you were late
and missed the first part,
but who cares about the questions?
It should all be Rocha's lecture.
Well, I heard so much about this Rocha,
I wanted to see how good he was.
He's good. A little arrogant, but...
Who recommended you to come here?
My children's father.
- Oh.
- Why do you ask?
Nothing, I just thought I knew you.
The old "Have we met before" pick-up line.
No, it's just that at the last conference
I made a friend
and went to his house.
It turns out
you look just like his mother.
I thought you were her
and he recommended it.
No, darling, my kids are only 9.
Are you a writer? What do you do?
I'm late to events.
- What's your name?
- Lucas.
I'm Pilar. See you
at Rocha's next lecture.
- Are you leaving now?
- Yes.
I was thinking
of inviting you for a drink.
How bold.
No. I can't.
Ask your friend's mother,
maybe she'll say yes.
- Nice to meet you.
- Bye.
It's a new window-cleaning technique.
Here's the tardy student.
Here's the writer
who listens to questions.
Are you still mad or are you over it?
You should be mad
to have to listen to those questions.
"Rocha, I'm the best writer
of my generation,
is it possible that I'm not
being recognized out of envy?"
"Rocha, I wrote a 1,000-page novel
and nobody wants to publish it.
Why are we artists so misunderstood?"
The first half wasn't that much better.
You got off the hook.
It was just me talking.
I would've liked to have heard it
so I could criticize you.
I heard so much about you,
my expectations were high.
Honestly, I thought you were a genius,
and here you are, at 11:00 in a cafeteria.
Well, being free at 11:00 a.m.
means I'm a bit of genius, right?
May I sit?
If you have nothing else to do.
I'm giving another lecture
in a little bit, it's sold out.
- Good for you.
- Yeah.
But I can get you in, if you can and want.
Yes, I do. I can and I'm free.
I'm also a bit of a genius.
I spent almost a year in Spain,
some time in Morocco,
about two years in Brazil,
almost settled in northern Argentina,
but I never built up the courage,
or maybe I love Buenos Aires too much.
Yes, when I was 20,
I only thought of traveling.
In fact, that's what I did.
I was a singer and wrote my own songs.
I sang everywhere I went,
in hotels, hostels, streets, the subway.
But I chose Buenos Aires.
Perhaps for the theaters,
the food, the people.
Truth is, I fell in love and had twins.
In love, with twins, a singer,
and you go to literature lectures.
No. Ever since I had the twins
and a husband, I stopped singing.
Now I have the twins but no husband.
- What happened?
- We separated.
I think you met him. He interviewed you
on the radio. Sebastián?
Oh, yes, Sebastián.
He talks about the twins all the time.
- Yes, right.
- About my twins, well, our twins.
Right, of course.
An interesting guy, Sebastián.
You say that
because you didn't live with him.
Oh, sorry. Was it a bad break up?
No, it's just a joke I always make.
When I was married to him,
everyone wanted to talk to me about him.
There wasn't a man that didn't say,
"Send my regards to Seba."
"Is he as funny as he is on the radio?"
"Such a nice guy,
tell your husband I said hi."
- All the time.
- Had I known, I wouldn't talk about him.
No, it's fine.
Actually, I brought him up,
and it's not his fault.
Is that how you met?
He was just starting.
He was the first Jew I ever saw up close.
I was an only daughter,
with an overly-protective father.
I studied in
a bilingual Catholic school in San Isidro,
which meant I had to study abroad.
In fact, I did study abroad...
Design or whatever.
And I saw him and fell in love.
I thought, "That guy."
Jewish, very white, funny, guilt-driven,
a bit childish, with an old spirit.
I was crazy for him.
And, well, we had twins.
And then we separated.
Because he was Jewish,
funny, guilt-driven and a bit childish.
- Rocha.
- Yes.
Sorry to interrupt, just saw you here.
- You wrote a novel.
- No.
- Someone plagiarized your story.
- No.
- Then?
- I do poetry recitals.
I know it's impossible
for you to come but...
Did you know there's a movement
to rescue poetry?
What a shame.
- Anything else?
- If you want to come
and watch or participate,
I would be thrilled.
Okay. If you don't mind, I would like
to continue chatting with my friend here.
- Yes. Thank you.
- No, thank you.
Bye.
You're very cocky with people
that approach you with respect.
Otherwise, she'd just sit there
and never leave.
Just like you did with me.
You're right, but I asked.
You're also separated.
How do you know?
I can tell.
Unfaithful...
- Not at all.
- Good father...
but absent.
No, the one who is absent is my son.
He's 20 and traveling the world.
Great, you're free.
My kids still rely on me a little.
Are you a writer?
No, I'm a designer.
I like to read and sometimes I write.
Can you tell me,
what is the purpose of the spray bottle?
Yes, you fill it with water and shoot.
That I know,
but why are you carrying it around?
- I got it for my kid.
- But you have two kids.
It's my way of raising them.
It's how I fight capitalism.
Pick up, if you want.
No. It's not urgent.
The only thing I ask is that
you don't fight anybody. Is that possible?
Don't worry, I'm planning on leaving
before the second half.
I don't care for the questions.
Sorry, now I have to pick it up.
Third call means it's urgent.
- Hello.
- Hi, Pili, when will you be back?
I don't follow.
How long until you're back?
Aren't the kids staying with you tonight?
We have a problem. You won't believe it.
What happened?
When you left this morning,
you shut the door and I got stuck inside.
I don't have any keys
to get out of your building.
I stayed here with the kids.
Every time a neighbor walked out,
Facu was sleeping
and I didn't have the heart to wake him.
So I'm stuck in your building lobby.
Are you serious?
You haven't moved from my lobby?
No, I couldn't.
Now Facu is awake, but no one's coming.
I can't get out. It's like a joke,
it's unbelievable.
I can't stay, something came up
with the kids and I have to go get them.
What a shame. I don't know
when my next lecture will be.
Yes, a shame, but it's all my fault.
- Did something bad happen?
- No.
But it's all my fault.
My dad came from Italy.
Where are you from?
I'm from the north.
I was just there. Which part?
The part where we don't like
talking to people.
Some attitude you have there.
Let's stop a bit, I can't anymore.
I get really tired.
You're old enough. Come here, Panchita.
- Are you kidding me?
- No, someone just opened up.
- I was about to call you.
- Liar, someone let us out a while ago.
I played with the tablet all morning.
I bought this for the kids.
Do you know what it's called?
Crazy Fireman, see how it works.
- No.
- What?
Stop! Cut it out! Stop it!
- I want it.
- No, I want it.
Enough, don't play with that. Enough.
Enough!
When I say it's enough, it's enough!
- Okay.
- Back to where we came from, please.
One shot each.
Guys, I said one. Pick it up!
- No.
- Facu, I said one, not at each other!
But Dad!
- Are you in a hurry?
- Yes.
Well, this is Buenos Aires.
I know you don't want to talk,
but this is Buenos Aires.
- Hi.
- Hello, do you have your ticket?
No, I met Rocha this morning.
He told me I'd get in without one.
You need a ticket.
But Rocha said I could attend without one,
to walk right in.
Of course. The thing is,
I can't bother the lecturers.
Well, can we just go in
so he can see my face?
Maybe he'll let me in
and you don't have to bother him.
I'm not supposed to move from here.
I have to stay.
You can't move from right there?
You're never moving from here?
The ceiling can fall
and you'll just stay here?
Are you serious?
Come on, let me in, please.
Why would I lie?
It's not like it's a bank and I'm a thief.
I just want to see what the fuck Rocha
has to say about Argentinian literature.
To be honest, I'm not that interested.
I just wanted to try something new
and thought this was the way to go.
Hello?
I'm talking to you, answer me.
Rocha.
I came back, but I was late.
Well, you're consistent.
Was it good?
Just like this morning's,
but with worse questions
that would've made you
even more nervous.
Time to eat!
- Kiddos.
- Kids.
Let's eat.
- Hey!
- Stop.
Come on, time to eat.
Hey!
Do you want me to call Mom?
I'll call Mom, no problem.
- Go ahead, we don't care.
- You don't care?
Okay, I'll call her. Let's see.
Hello, Pili?
- Yep, I'm here with your son and daughter.
- Kids.
Kids. They won't eat.
What?
If they don't eat,
you're taking the tablet away for a week?
I know you're not talking to her.
- Yes, I am.
- No.
- Yes.
- No.
- Okay, show me.
- Now I'm really calling.
I have some time to spare,
we can debate if you want.
Go ahead, answer.
No, there can't be two emergencies
in one day.
- Hello.
- Hi, Pili?
What's up?
I'm calling because the kids won't eat.
I don't understand.
The kids don't want to eat.
Sebastián, are you calling
because the kids won't eat?
No, I actually fake-called you before,
but Panchita caught me,
so now I'm really calling you.
- I knew it would make you mad.
- Please, Sebastián, I'm busy.
Yes, we are both very angry.
It's outrageous they won't eat.
Okay.
I'd like to pay you back,
you picked up the tab at the cafeteria.
No, my treat.
But you can buy me lunch and we're even.
That's a bad deal for me.
Lunch is more expensive.
You're right. Why don't we split the tab?
Sounds good to me.
"Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself...
within a forest dark."
In this way, Dante Alighieri commences
The Divine Comedy,
a masterpiece of Italian
and world literature.
Some maintain that by "forest dark,"
Dante refers to man lost
by his sins and vices.
On the other hand, I believe
that in the year 1300, Dante was aware
of the confused state
which man goes through in his 40s.
In other words, midway through life.
A NETFLIX ORIGINAL SERIES
ON AIR
ALMOST HAPPY
Sebastián, why on earth
are you doing this to me?
I told you 8:00, it's 9:00 a.m.
and you're not here. What's going on?
What's up?
- I told you at 8:00.
- You said 9:00.
Sebastián, I said 8:00.
Nine! Why would I lie?
- Fran, what time did I say?
- You said 8:00.
Turn around, please.
Do not involve my daughter
in our discussions.
- She's my daughter too, Sebastián.
- Mine too.
I said 8:00, look.
We said 8:00.
- I was sure it was 9:00.
- "I was sure it was 9:00."
Take care of it. Move.
Why is he sleeping here?
They got up early because their dad
was picking them up early.
- Panchita, help me wake up your brother.
- No.
- Help me.
- No.
- Put the tablet away.
- No.
Okay, keep it.
I'll wake up the little one.
Facu, wake up. Facu?
To the Buenos Aires Cultural Center.
I'm waiting for my wife.
- Oh, sorry.
- But I can take you instead.
- Take your old lady!
- Get up, Facu.
Panchita, help me.
I'm going
to the Buenos Aires Cultural Center.
All of a sudden,
I have 35 people under my watch.
Too much responsibility.
Honestly, for that same money,
I'm better off doing this.
I'm in charge of my schedule,
I'm my own boss. I mean...
I didn't ask you
which way you want to take.
The fastest.
Okay. We'll follow the GPS, then.
You know, we are going
to the neighborhood where I grew up.
The neighborhood that...
that made me who I am.
The neighborhood that showed me the ropes.
You can drop me here.
All right.
It'll be 215 pesos.
Here.
No, you put me on the spot.
It's my first ride today.
I don't have any change.
How can you not have change?
Why didn't you warn me?
You're the one who should be warning.
I can go get some.
No!
I'll just go.
Your change.
Thank you.
Excuse me, do you know
where Rocha's conference is?
I don't. But did you know
that a few years from now,
humans will run out of water and food?
- Want to help with your time, skills...
- Sorry, I'm running late.
Sorry, Rocha's conference,
do you know where it is?
- Rocha died.
- What?
Wait, the one who died is Rosas.
Rocha is still alive.
And the conference?
In that room.
ARGENTINIAN LITERATURE
JESÚS ROCHA
Next question?
Sorry.
Good afternoon.
Questions?
Excuse me.
Sorry.
Next question?
Rocha. Here.
Political movements
and different political processes
affect literature's narrative
and aesthetics.
I wanted to ask you,
how do the different Peronisms affect...
Argentinian literature today
is trapped in its own self-righteousness.
Anyone who writes a fragment
thinks they have a coming-of-age story...
Today, we put more value in some dude
who writes two lines in some social media
than a writer who constructs
a solid narrative.
Yes?
Sorry, but I came expecting
to listen to Jesús Rocha's conference,
not the audience's pretentious questions.
What's your name?
- Sorry?
- What's your name?
Pilar.
I dedicated the beginning
of the event to the lecture.
If you had arrived on time,
you would have heard it.
You were right, in my opinion.
I mean, it's okay, you were late
and missed the first part,
but who cares about the questions?
It should all be Rocha's lecture.
Well, I heard so much about this Rocha,
I wanted to see how good he was.
He's good. A little arrogant, but...
Who recommended you to come here?
My children's father.
- Oh.
- Why do you ask?
Nothing, I just thought I knew you.
The old "Have we met before" pick-up line.
No, it's just that at the last conference
I made a friend
and went to his house.
It turns out
you look just like his mother.
I thought you were her
and he recommended it.
No, darling, my kids are only 9.
Are you a writer? What do you do?
I'm late to events.
- What's your name?
- Lucas.
I'm Pilar. See you
at Rocha's next lecture.
- Are you leaving now?
- Yes.
I was thinking
of inviting you for a drink.
How bold.
No. I can't.
Ask your friend's mother,
maybe she'll say yes.
- Nice to meet you.
- Bye.
It's a new window-cleaning technique.
Here's the tardy student.
Here's the writer
who listens to questions.
Are you still mad or are you over it?
You should be mad
to have to listen to those questions.
"Rocha, I'm the best writer
of my generation,
is it possible that I'm not
being recognized out of envy?"
"Rocha, I wrote a 1,000-page novel
and nobody wants to publish it.
Why are we artists so misunderstood?"
The first half wasn't that much better.
You got off the hook.
It was just me talking.
I would've liked to have heard it
so I could criticize you.
I heard so much about you,
my expectations were high.
Honestly, I thought you were a genius,
and here you are, at 11:00 in a cafeteria.
Well, being free at 11:00 a.m.
means I'm a bit of genius, right?
May I sit?
If you have nothing else to do.
I'm giving another lecture
in a little bit, it's sold out.
- Good for you.
- Yeah.
But I can get you in, if you can and want.
Yes, I do. I can and I'm free.
I'm also a bit of a genius.
I spent almost a year in Spain,
some time in Morocco,
about two years in Brazil,
almost settled in northern Argentina,
but I never built up the courage,
or maybe I love Buenos Aires too much.
Yes, when I was 20,
I only thought of traveling.
In fact, that's what I did.
I was a singer and wrote my own songs.
I sang everywhere I went,
in hotels, hostels, streets, the subway.
But I chose Buenos Aires.
Perhaps for the theaters,
the food, the people.
Truth is, I fell in love and had twins.
In love, with twins, a singer,
and you go to literature lectures.
No. Ever since I had the twins
and a husband, I stopped singing.
Now I have the twins but no husband.
- What happened?
- We separated.
I think you met him. He interviewed you
on the radio. Sebastián?
Oh, yes, Sebastián.
He talks about the twins all the time.
- Yes, right.
- About my twins, well, our twins.
Right, of course.
An interesting guy, Sebastián.
You say that
because you didn't live with him.
Oh, sorry. Was it a bad break up?
No, it's just a joke I always make.
When I was married to him,
everyone wanted to talk to me about him.
There wasn't a man that didn't say,
"Send my regards to Seba."
"Is he as funny as he is on the radio?"
"Such a nice guy,
tell your husband I said hi."
- All the time.
- Had I known, I wouldn't talk about him.
No, it's fine.
Actually, I brought him up,
and it's not his fault.
Is that how you met?
He was just starting.
He was the first Jew I ever saw up close.
I was an only daughter,
with an overly-protective father.
I studied in
a bilingual Catholic school in San Isidro,
which meant I had to study abroad.
In fact, I did study abroad...
Design or whatever.
And I saw him and fell in love.
I thought, "That guy."
Jewish, very white, funny, guilt-driven,
a bit childish, with an old spirit.
I was crazy for him.
And, well, we had twins.
And then we separated.
Because he was Jewish,
funny, guilt-driven and a bit childish.
- Rocha.
- Yes.
Sorry to interrupt, just saw you here.
- You wrote a novel.
- No.
- Someone plagiarized your story.
- No.
- Then?
- I do poetry recitals.
I know it's impossible
for you to come but...
Did you know there's a movement
to rescue poetry?
What a shame.
- Anything else?
- If you want to come
and watch or participate,
I would be thrilled.
Okay. If you don't mind, I would like
to continue chatting with my friend here.
- Yes. Thank you.
- No, thank you.
Bye.
You're very cocky with people
that approach you with respect.
Otherwise, she'd just sit there
and never leave.
Just like you did with me.
You're right, but I asked.
You're also separated.
How do you know?
I can tell.
Unfaithful...
- Not at all.
- Good father...
but absent.
No, the one who is absent is my son.
He's 20 and traveling the world.
Great, you're free.
My kids still rely on me a little.
Are you a writer?
No, I'm a designer.
I like to read and sometimes I write.
Can you tell me,
what is the purpose of the spray bottle?
Yes, you fill it with water and shoot.
That I know,
but why are you carrying it around?
- I got it for my kid.
- But you have two kids.
It's my way of raising them.
It's how I fight capitalism.
Pick up, if you want.
No. It's not urgent.
The only thing I ask is that
you don't fight anybody. Is that possible?
Don't worry, I'm planning on leaving
before the second half.
I don't care for the questions.
Sorry, now I have to pick it up.
Third call means it's urgent.
- Hello.
- Hi, Pili, when will you be back?
I don't follow.
How long until you're back?
Aren't the kids staying with you tonight?
We have a problem. You won't believe it.
What happened?
When you left this morning,
you shut the door and I got stuck inside.
I don't have any keys
to get out of your building.
I stayed here with the kids.
Every time a neighbor walked out,
Facu was sleeping
and I didn't have the heart to wake him.
So I'm stuck in your building lobby.
Are you serious?
You haven't moved from my lobby?
No, I couldn't.
Now Facu is awake, but no one's coming.
I can't get out. It's like a joke,
it's unbelievable.
I can't stay, something came up
with the kids and I have to go get them.
What a shame. I don't know
when my next lecture will be.
Yes, a shame, but it's all my fault.
- Did something bad happen?
- No.
But it's all my fault.
My dad came from Italy.
Where are you from?
I'm from the north.
I was just there. Which part?
The part where we don't like
talking to people.
Some attitude you have there.
Let's stop a bit, I can't anymore.
I get really tired.
You're old enough. Come here, Panchita.
- Are you kidding me?
- No, someone just opened up.
- I was about to call you.
- Liar, someone let us out a while ago.
I played with the tablet all morning.
I bought this for the kids.
Do you know what it's called?
Crazy Fireman, see how it works.
- No.
- What?
Stop! Cut it out! Stop it!
- I want it.
- No, I want it.
Enough, don't play with that. Enough.
Enough!
When I say it's enough, it's enough!
- Okay.
- Back to where we came from, please.
One shot each.
Guys, I said one. Pick it up!
- No.
- Facu, I said one, not at each other!
But Dad!
- Are you in a hurry?
- Yes.
Well, this is Buenos Aires.
I know you don't want to talk,
but this is Buenos Aires.
- Hi.
- Hello, do you have your ticket?
No, I met Rocha this morning.
He told me I'd get in without one.
You need a ticket.
But Rocha said I could attend without one,
to walk right in.
Of course. The thing is,
I can't bother the lecturers.
Well, can we just go in
so he can see my face?
Maybe he'll let me in
and you don't have to bother him.
I'm not supposed to move from here.
I have to stay.
You can't move from right there?
You're never moving from here?
The ceiling can fall
and you'll just stay here?
Are you serious?
Come on, let me in, please.
Why would I lie?
It's not like it's a bank and I'm a thief.
I just want to see what the fuck Rocha
has to say about Argentinian literature.
To be honest, I'm not that interested.
I just wanted to try something new
and thought this was the way to go.
Hello?
I'm talking to you, answer me.
Rocha.
I came back, but I was late.
Well, you're consistent.
Was it good?
Just like this morning's,
but with worse questions
that would've made you
even more nervous.
Time to eat!
- Kiddos.
- Kids.
Let's eat.
- Hey!
- Stop.
Come on, time to eat.
Hey!
Do you want me to call Mom?
I'll call Mom, no problem.
- Go ahead, we don't care.
- You don't care?
Okay, I'll call her. Let's see.
Hello, Pili?
- Yep, I'm here with your son and daughter.
- Kids.
Kids. They won't eat.
What?
If they don't eat,
you're taking the tablet away for a week?
I know you're not talking to her.
- Yes, I am.
- No.
- Yes.
- No.
- Okay, show me.
- Now I'm really calling.
I have some time to spare,
we can debate if you want.
Go ahead, answer.
No, there can't be two emergencies
in one day.
- Hello.
- Hi, Pili?
What's up?
I'm calling because the kids won't eat.
I don't understand.
The kids don't want to eat.
Sebastián, are you calling
because the kids won't eat?
No, I actually fake-called you before,
but Panchita caught me,
so now I'm really calling you.
- I knew it would make you mad.
- Please, Sebastián, I'm busy.
Yes, we are both very angry.
It's outrageous they won't eat.
Okay.
I'd like to pay you back,
you picked up the tab at the cafeteria.
No, my treat.
But you can buy me lunch and we're even.
That's a bad deal for me.
Lunch is more expensive.
You're right. Why don't we split the tab?
Sounds good to me.