Arnon Grunberg - Tirza

When the architect had now tidied — his shirt was still open to his navel — and he is outside the range of Hofmeesters hands he was finally to the cd player and turned it off.

'Hugh, Hugh,' said ship's steward, 'at last. Christ was still an.'

He wetted his lips with his tongue and he gestured to the lessee, but who do not understand.

The 'Create the close,' said ship's steward, 'your shirt, button the close. I can see everything. I do not want to see everything. I have already seen far too much.'

Ibi stood by the door and lured her upper body rhythmically. They cried in silence.

The tenant tied his shirt further close, at the top of the stud.

When did a ship's steward with his right fist on the table so hard that he and the lessee still bezeerde two steps backwards. 'You pay for this apartment,' shouted ship's steward. Because he had recalled that he had to scream, that it had planned to make huge roar, if an injured animal. 'For the furniture you pay for gas and light, for the views of the Vondelpark, for the privilege that you in the best part of the Van Eeghenstraat resides, in the best part of Amsterdam and that for a reasonable price, very reasonable i would say, but you do not pay for my daughter. Is that what you understand? Not for my daughter.'

He kept his forehead as if he had to think of fixed what he wanted to say yet, but he had not more to say. This was what he had to say. He had said. Now he could continue. Yes, he had said everything that needs to be said. He could continue. He had greatly restricted to cases of abuse.

But otherwise than he had expected, the architect not bedremmeld remained and debt are aware silence, the architect said with hoarse voice: 'will you be sorry. This will not remain without effect.' He betastte his forehead and saw the blood that his hand was sticking. He looked forward, bowled, more bowled than alarmed. In the confrontation with the blood seemed to come the pain. Because he often moaned. No, he jammerde gently. A parent child, also that still. Of course, the worst were kons mother.

And ship's steward heard his daughter whispering: 'Andreas.'

What made him very. Ibi's whispers. His daughter which the lessee 'Andreas'. He was the tenant does not name. A lessee who had a name, was busy family, who got the door not more. The lessee was called tenant. No more.

What was went wrong? Why did he not better attention? How he had this man ever can get?

'I Declaration,' said the architect, and his accent was stronger than ever. 'Dear. I do this declaration, Mr ship's steward. This will not remain without effect.' He remained but to the blood on his hands. As far as it was not. A few drops. As if he were at work in the garden had cut.

Ship's steward grabbed as in a reflex the stalamp. But it was more something to hold, to seek support, than for a weapon at hand. What kind of weapon was so'n broken stalamp is at all?

Previously used as child had a ship's steward often under the blood interned. He had I made?

'I,' he said only. 'You can also on. I will make a declaration. My daughter is not available for rent. It is not included in the price.'

He roared just up again.

When he griste the envelope of the table and ran through to Ibi, which had ceased to cry. Flickering she was standing against the wall.

What were they lean. A child is still. Now the game was delayed, it was clear to see. Nobody could deny.

'come with me,' he said.

They shook her head.

'come with me,' he said again.

'I stay here,' she shouted.

Ship's steward looked his daughter. Her hands for her small breasts. On the bank was its bloesje, also a birthday gift. Of her mother. And of Tirza. They had the selected together. He took the, gave it to his daughter, and said: 'pull this, Ibi, and come with me.'

And in addition to the cd player was the architect, with the back of his hand against his forehead pressed. Certainly afraid to bleeding to death.

The man was too confused or too shy to go to the bathroom to walk and something in the medicine cabinet to search. A Mole. More was not necessary.

The bloesje Ibi withdrew with her face to the wall. As in the dressing room of the gymlokaal. She took hardly worth the close to buttons. She wore no bra. They did not think it was necessary. 'I have almost nothing,' she said one evening. 'Why should I wear a bra?'

Ship's steward had left this rhetorical question unanswered. His wife was not that evening. His wife was often uithuizig. 'You're just a a finicky bitch,' he had ever against the wife said. 'What must be your daughters?',

'I stay here,' repeated Ibi when they the blouse is wearing them and they no longer have to go to the wall did to watch. 'I stand by Andreas.' She was calm. In the calm came the determination.

Andreas. That name. Ship's steward had the impression that he was beaten with a gear lever. He knew no Andreas. He wanted to know no Andreas.

Ibi saw was found. There were still some tears on her cheeks. It heard at puberty. Shout, shrilling, crying. Nothing to worry about. Other teens did the same.

She looked at the tenant as they probably already had looked at him when he had met for the first time, when they had come here for the rent, anxious but strictly, sincere and yet challenging. Self-assured, but without hope. She came to the envelope, but they had a different job — one that they had given itself. It was a game for her, one big game. And look what it came as you did not know that you had to stop playing.

The architect said nothing more, he continued his wound palpation and he looked not to the subsidiary or to the father. He looked at his own hands, the table, the floor. He had the pressure with itself.

'You coming with me,' said ship's steward, 'otherwise you can stay here and for always.' He waited not for an answer, like he knew and feared, more than anything else the answer on his last warning feared. He took it in its upper arm, he pinch in its upper arm and pushed her out the door from the stairs.

In the stairwell began the shrilling again. The Crying. The moaning. The Spades. She was trying to kick her father. They tried in extricating themselves from Hofmeesters handle, but it did not and her attempts were also perhaps half-hearted. They had no choice. By Andreas continue? How will this be? As if they were deep in her heart knew that also Andreas didn't want that they remained.

Ship's steward pushed its for itself, how they tried to him biting and kicking. This was a rescue operation. Act on it. came Once they have downstairs was, she could to himself.

The house of the living room in to the bank where the evening newspaper on him was waiting. The evening newspaper that he is so quiet and peaceful had read, while his daughter two floors up was raped. If you had to mention that yet. So he called the in any case.

They showed on the bank. They deployed as a hedgehog.

The wooed you was not ceased. With long strokes went by and it seemed like there never would come to an end..

In his hand was a ship's steward the envelope with the money that now was not counted. Not once and not twice. The tradition was broken. Everything was different. There was also no hope of financial independence, no dreams in that hope we heard. Only his daughter was there. In coils on the bench. One large crumb misery. Sobbing, whiny.

'Doe quiet,' he said. 'Ibi, run quietly. Soothe. You are back home. Everything is good. You are safe.'

He ran for the bank back and forth. Now he was here again, he could not stop with polar bears. Something he had overlooked, something went wrong was, and he had not thought of in advance. He had made a mistake, while he had hate to errors. 'Ibi,' he said. 'Sweetheart. It is a good thing.'

The wooed you loved. They looked at him as he had the tenant outsiders. They were not for nothing family. He recognized the look.