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SIMONE: But it's not the end, is it? Because if it were—you wouldn't have kept her letters in your nightstand for fifteen years.

SIMONE: I went through our room. The one you claimed was yours because you were "the mother now." You were fourteen, Elena. You were never the mother. You were just another abandoned kid with a key to the liquor cabinet. incestlove.info

ELENA: (folding napkin into a surgical square) There's nothing to talk about. She left. He stayed. End of story. SIMONE: But it's not the end, is it

Elena freezes. Mateo stops laughing.

MATEO: (forcing a laugh) So. We gonna talk about the elephant? Or the mother-shaped hole in the room? SIMONE: But it's not the end