Arnon Grunberg - Tirza

Their friends were read her friends. Courtesy calls were bored him because he already had to carry out as many courtesy calls with translators, authors and colleagues. Until he discovered that it helped to go around with snacks. With the man who with the snacks around, nobody talk. As it developed into serv earlier in his own home. An unknown would be in him have seen the waiter. Galant, but silently. Always discreet. A man who coincides with its unobtrusive but relevant actions. Sometimes they were the partiers surprised that the servant, this friendly slave, the owner of the property was found to have.

'What do you want?' he asks. 'What do you do?'

They state. The spijkerrok This shop requires of Ibi is tight to her buttocks. They may not move properly. Engages the image to him. Unexpected and more than he would have believed. This is his young wife, in the skirt of her eldest daughter. It is perhaps not potsierlijk, but it is there to survive.

'What do you want in God's name?' he asks. 'De guests come so.'

'Fuck.'

'But why? It was not between us, it was, how you mentioned, a catastrophe. Not only the fuck, let us be honest. Our marriage.' He smiles, because the truth is summarized in a few words as innocent sounds. As inevitable. No one could do something about it. A TRAFFIC ACCIDENT. There was fog. An oncoming car.

'Because we have no one else.'

He walks on her away in the direction of the balcony door, if an animal which is chosen for the slaughter, but that is also still pro forma opposition.

The expression on her face is changed. She looks at him carefully. 'Or is there someone? Someone who i know nothing? Did you know? And do you want to say? What you have actually done all that time that I was not?'

He shakes his head. 'No, no, no one. Nothing regelmatigs, nothing is worth mentioning. Why did you not to your childhood love? In this houseboat?' He close the balcony doors, fear that the children will hear him.

'something went wrong.'

She does a few steps in his direction. The substance of the spijkerrok This shop requires seems to crack.

'Would you not know what?'

He nods. 'Of course I would like to know. What went wrong? Tell, short.'

'He wanted a child.'

They are at the reminder. smiles She grins. It is for him, half-naked. She seems to be on Ibi. Or rather, Ibi resembles her. Tirza not. Tirza seems to anyone.

'Why have you not made? It could even when you left. You was fertile when you left me. It had been easy.'

"Because he couldn't. He could not. He was barren, showed. And when he was crazy. He said that it was my fault. He turned by. Thus, Jörgen. As you look at, not?' The grin.

The shirt that all that time he has maintained he explains in bed. He takes a look at his watch. What he wants of this woman, with whom he shares little else than two daughters and about half of his life? Perhaps not even that. Why did he not, six days ago when they suddenly turn for the door was, after the oven dish said: 'I will call a hotel for you. We speak a little further on tomorrow? We will have a cup of coffee?' Why he can do not release her? It is time.

'His seed was dead and he said that it was my fault.' She smirks as if they were a mop tells which only they can understand the essence of the problem.

Then he and pulls bending his shoes off.

He looks at her and the wife nods approvingly.

Ship's steward pulls his socks off and the fact that he downstairs in the refrigerator the sushi and sashimi on the guests are waiting. He is proud. Proud of what he that afternoon in the kitchen has made itself, concentrated and with love.

The socks are in the shoes stopped. 'Dead' seed,' he says, 'is no fun.'

Soon he pulls his trousers.

He depends on a seat in tidy, it is his best trousers, he there must still be the whole evening host in play.

So he is in his underpants in his bedroom. A tummy he has, but for a man of his age should have no name.

'Why do you come back?' he asks.

They scrapes her throat. 'You have said himself," she says. 'You know everything you have always conscience.'

'What I said?'

'I could nowhere.'

He sees the nail skirt, he sees the meat that a bit about which lubbert spijkerrok This shop requires, it is not really ugly. It is almost charming and this woman who he hates and which he despised — if not the whole time then certainly regularly, more often than he loves — emotion it for you. More than he had suspected, more than he had to itself like to admit. What its about is, makes him week. Because it is so small. He sees the clear, it cannot be denied. Little. He is the curator of its past, the depositary of its seductive force, he remembers everything he sees who she was, cross through anything. In his life her adventure lakes, every day.

'We are still went to France," she says. 'But it was not. Death seed is not live in France.'

He looks at his feet.

Then he looks at the wife.

She says: 'I specially for you so raunchy made possible, you see that? So I am uncouth have never been.'

'Yes, yes,' he says. He sees.

'They can you anyway not tacky enough? The woman who you want to?'

He nods, he breathes heavy. Not of excitement. Of misery. The reminder of happiness is misery. The reminder. To admit that you have made a mistake. And that from that mistake two people also emerged. Two errors, if you are viewing the pure. Also that he has on his conscience.

'Yes, yes,' he says. 'I see it. You have never been so tacky. And you are for me. Only for me.'

His socks are dark blue with light blue stripes, they put in his shoes as Gnome lakes.

'We must learn quickly,' he says, "because the guests come so. They had actually already.'

Fast," she says. 'very quickly. How you want it?'

'How do you want the?'

She shakes her head. 'You see," she says, 'at the beast in yours is not dead? You can see that it is still there?'

Ship's steward does a few steps in its direction. He seeks his hand, becomes the nipple in which she had gently squeezed.

'Why do we do this? We are not too old for? We would not be better to know?'

She pushes his hand gently road. 'you see it not?' she asks. 'Is the not yet penetrated to you? Are you blind? We have no one else.' She puts the emphasis on every word, every syllable, as if they were a dictee reads.

He delivers his main closer.

'is that?' he asks. 'Is that the only?'

'Why do you think I am coming back to you? Because I knew you would not expel me. Because I knew that you had no one else. Who wants you still? Look good, Jörgen, we are residues. We are what it is about. From us, the beast in us."

'How did you know that i you would not dismissing?'

'You got me never expelled, why should you do now? You are always been afraid. The exit self, that you could not care. But that the people you would speak of shame as they do about poor spouses, that idea was you no peace.'

He gulps saliva road.

'You are now the only, Jörgen, the others…' she smiles. 'De others, they are dead, sick or insane. Or they have received something better, something jongers, and they want me not, not yet for a cup of coffee. The new life must not be compromised. You are the only one, you are the surviving. Finally I you the winner. You got me completely for you alone.'

The curse, he thinks the curse. That leaves you never loose, which drives with you as a cloud, and if you die, who on your children. That is why he had no children wanted, intuitive, he wanted the curse not by. Until they were there. When he was lost, he lost itself, first in Ibi, later in Tirza. He forgot the curse.

'You will find me furious raunchy?'

He looks to her and nods thoughtfully. 'Yes,' says he slowly, 'void tacky.'

'How do you want to do, Jörgen? You have to say. It is your evening. It is also a bit of your party. You have for Tirza ensure all those years.'