Arnon Grunberg - Tirza

His desire for rational considerations which lead to thoughtful practices continued to perfect unsatisfied. Unwanted thoughts about him fell. He was, he had to admit, already become nervous when his daughter the word that he hoped that no longer existed in this House. Mama.

What was God for atheists was mama for the family ship's steward. Nobody spoke about the mother who had taken the legs. Nobody had the infamous word. Nobody said: 'When mom still lived with us…' Even on older evenings, which he visited with a certain fanaticism, was not referred to the woman who is the mother of his children was. Did him as a single father and in such a way that its surroundings veinsde thoroughly that ship's steward ever since his birth was never something else than this. That he was so intended as a toddler. Designed to be single father. And it had to be said: he was grown in his role.

There was no mama. It disappeared for the existence of the word. He was there now, mother and father in a. The only, therefore the real, the left, and with him everything would be better.

When he stood opposite her, noticed Jörgen that he was wound ship's steward. Not in the sexual sense of the word, but excited as you are excited an exam, even if you know that you have learned. Anything could happen. That was what the adrenaline told him that was what the concentration with which he looked at her influisterde him: a lot can go wrong.

He monsterde her, her head first and when her suitcase. Also he felt for him incomprehensible challenge its against itself and to press its minutes long against located on printed. Everything he did was with his right hand leaning against the wall, quasi-casually. The tea towel bungelde in his left hand. Ship's steward was a man with a life-long to an attitude had sought and there, now that life almost was over, had still not found. Not an attitude is a tea towel.

The only thing he could think was: the always happens if you are not expecting. As if it were just so it happens, because you might not expect.

How long he had not been looking forward to? That they would be in front of the door. She was left in the past, but she was always come back. After a few days, after a few weeks, for more than two months had never lasted for its bevliegingen. And on a day they came than back home. Without embarrassment, without a word of regret, haughty, a tad aggressive, but she was there, for his door. The last time this happened so not the last time was different than all those times. The last time it was definitively.

And now that he is not expected more, now he did not need to expect because the children were large enough to be able to without her, and he was old enough to for a young widower to continue, she had landed at him as if it were the beld commonplace. What it was perhaps also. It remained the mother of his children. She had lived here for many years, first with him, when only with him and the girls. Perhaps she wanted to also check how the with its pots and pans, admire apple tree, which indeed had grown.

He looked at the woman who had claimed that he had her life spoiled, not only spoiled, Kan. He hadn't let her life. If a magician he had her life weggegoocheld, blow three times and road. She wanted the back, that life of her. That is why she left. As the ladies and gentlemen of the rent protection was they went out of the house, calm but not without resentment. He had still nageroepen: 'I will call a taxi?' But they had said: 'I do with the tram.' He had the door closed and he was in the living room to sit down with the evening newspaper in his lap.

'I thought: I come in and have a look how you feel,' she said and they region what hairs from her face. Its movements, the way they stood there, confident, confident that this was the ideal moment to check how the there with her family for was that they all nights no better had been able to choose, a bland smile around her mouth, a pair of sunglasses on her head, that everything should claim the contrary to its voice heard that they also was nervous. So nervous as he is. Maybe it was three times along the house seized for them had to call to action. It was probably they already weeks ago returned to Amsterdam and she had him when he looks begluurd work, when he went with groceries sjouwde, when in the evening he Tirza guided to her bicycle, if they are out of the house was to visit her boyfriend. And how he than treuzelde and remained standing first to look Tirza wegfietste and then for his street and the park, that had the wife.

A man of his home. That he was on that kind of evenings. No, a man in age of his home. In the bathroom mirror he had to get to know the sensation to something to look at what is over. And that was a relief. What decamped to its existence to him was that it was behind him. If he was looking for long enough, he would in his past life.

This was the wife cannot know. They had everything can know, took a ship's steward. And that is why it was rather surprising him all the more that they had done this evening what they should have done earlier or for always should have: bell on the pavement with its red suitcase on wheels.

What they wanted from him he understood not. Sex would be not. A years ago she was never has been. That he is so yummy had to learn how to cook she could not know. That was something of after her departure. What was there on this point of his life still of him to? Where they came back, not for him. Not for whom he was now. For whom he had been in the past? But what he was what they had been in place, was not reproducible. How you look at it, they returned or turned came too late.

He took his hand from the wall. He looked at the hand. The work in the garden had left its traces. Still he searched the correct posture. He wanted a man who is a chat with the postman, interested but also somewhat absent, as it is now once as you with postmen talk.

People go away with a reason, thats for sure. And they come back with a reason. You do not accidentally after three years for the door. If this was a brainwave, what was the rest of your life?

He had simply ask what they wanted from him. Also he considered to say: 'Is the urgent? There must be something in the oven.'

She had the front door not closed. Ship's steward looked past her, to the street.

'How do you come here?' he asked. He did a step forwards, he drove by her, he smoke her, he was still a few steps, when he was outside. He looked to the left, he looked to the right. The street was empty. As if he were still a lover expected that neatly remained outside while they wait the bunch of inspected. A nice man with blue eyes. Youthful. The type for those who desire is an inconvenience which others him daily harassment. He knew that type, visited him in his dreams, lard characterised the history of his life: the other man who remained invisible but yet always there was every second of the day.

Far away from the corner played a child with a tennis ball. No lover. No childhood love. An evening in the early summer. As there are so many evenings. The promised to be warm, hot, humid and stuffy, good for the sun worshippers. Ship's steward was not a sun worshipper.

'Met the taxi,' she said.

Then he went back inside and closed the door. He picked up a promotional leaflet. What did they need? What came claim them? The children were too old. Which were of no more. Who had friends about who they seriously spoke and even more serious thought. Friends with whom they could imagine the rest of their lives to wear. He had already been discussions about engagements captured, not even irony. With Rings and al. The marriage was working on an offensive. An indestructible institute was it. No war could ertegenop. The atomic bomb, which perhaps.

But the eyes of the wife to the spoke he made the reservation. They looked at him very friendly, almost soft. She looked not angry or distant, they claim was perhaps nothing. She was, he could not pretend that he had not seen the, emotion.