Arnon Grunberg - Tirza

'Why did they invited you?'

It is true what imaginary substance of his shoulders and making a step in the direction of the door.

There is no answer. The girl is in the door opening, playing with one of her flip-flops. She looks to its tool, the garden chairs, an empty crate in which ever mandarins were and that he has retained for reasons that are unclear. He awaits. Still no response.

'And do you already know what you are going to do? After school?' he asks than but to take the call to finish. Whether they are a friend of his daughter is or not, a call must be completed neatly.

'I go back to school. I am slumped.'

'I am really sorry.' In his pocket will ship's steward a handkerchief and he rubs his forehead. It is not wet he thinks it is wet.

'I am not good in school. They say that I am slim, but that is not the case.'

He knows he is no council with this conf leg. He knows he is not a council with the entire conversation. Another time and rubs his forehead. Stronger than the first time, as though there were scabs on his forehead grow that he must off crabs.

'Have you my sushi?'

'In relationships I am also not good.'

'Have you my sushi? There is also sashimi.' He urges. He wishes to reply. He may not oppose as his questions are ignored.

'I eat no fish. Take them to me never long. A month or so. Two, three weeks. I am sorry to tell you it all.'

'does not. Do you ship's steward embodied vegetarian?' his handkerchief again. He must be returned to the party, but I am not. The longer he remains in the barn, the harder it is to go back, to resume his duties.

'I eat no fish. And certainly not a raw fish.'

A difficult girl. Difficult eaters are difficult people. Ship's steward loves people who eat everything, especially everything he has prepared. There should be eaten. People who cannot talk, food. Even people who can not life, food.

'but you are vegetarian?'

'I eat no fish. I do eat meat. I do not know what you are then. What are you?'

Ship's steward also thinks about this question. Is there a word for? If it exists, he knows it is not. 'Dan you are someone who does not eat fish,' he says after a few seconds.

They are there and they do not seem to want to depart, they do not understand that he should it.

"Well, that is what I am. Someone who does not eat fish.' She smiles, but it is not real smile. Previously a persiflage on the smile.

'I am sorry,' he says one more time he is now close to her, he must push her aside, he must return. 'Of those relations and of school, and also of the fish, I am sorry but you will probably find someone who loves you. And there are also vegetarian snacks. Olives.'

'Ah," she says. 'Yeah. "Hold" is so old fashioned.'

'What do you mean?'

'We do not do more to.' It is almost aggressive. As a reproach. And it felt also for ship's steward, he has the impression that he rightly pointed. A faux pas he has committed, and this girl let him that subtly know.

His hand rests on her shoulder to its friendly but still determined to push aside. The image of his wife in the living room to the dancing is with Tirza's friends bubbles forth in him and bothers him, makes him nervous. Sick, you would have to say. Sick.

'What are you doing?' he asks, his hand still on her shoulder.

At the same time tough and fragile, so they, and its solidity emphasizes the fragility, or rather: emphasizes what there all already is broken.

'We enjoy each other," she says. 'We try at least.'

He rubbed with his right hand by his hair. His left hand remains on its shoulder, as if those hand paralyzed.

Its answers him not, he wants no longer hear them. A so-called rebel, that will they are. Someone nothing, someone who has not understood that it is a question of the world to view critically, that you have to work, work, work and a further work, but believes that can enjoy the goal is. What a about courage. What a heart-free courage.

'We,' he says. 'We? I am not so sure that there is a "we". For example, you and I are we now have a "we"? I think not. Who is "we"? On behalf of whom do you speak?'

What is the problem with him? To what for discussion he begins? What he wants this child, that of fish or school appears to be, evidence? He must leave her only, her in her own sop cook cook it. Do not reduce to its level, what that level might be. He must be above it, he is a man of nearly sixty. Men of almost sixty are above. But what he discovered again and again every hour, every quarter, as if someone not tired him a little to want to prove: for He is not above. Nowhere is it is at the top.

'I believe that there may be a "we". I think that I can say: "We do not, we are not 'Love'. We do not. You might be. We do not. We positive displacement ommen the." hopefully you will find me not cheeky, but I believe you nonsense proclaims. I believe that many people nonsense proclaiming and that they think that may, that that is no problem, because they are older. Or have money. I am not clever. Not as smart as they think, but I know what nonsense.'

'I must return to the feast,' whispers ship's steward. 'We are talking about. Later. Another time. You can love cannot abolish, Ester. I have tried, when i was so old as you. I wanted to abolish the love. I can tell you a lot about. You can also come along to eat. Will love Tirza. Before they leave. She goes to Africa, as you know.'

'We. Now you are saying it themselves. Wé about. We, you see that it exists. We have a second, we are a "we". Whether you like it or not. We are a "we".'

He looks at her face. His hand is still on her shoulder. For the first time he realizes that his life not hurt, better life, his life, he understands that while he is at the face of Ester without h. He must be thinking about what that means. What does pain? 'I need it,' he says, and he hears smekend yourself how it sounds, how little authoritarian, how hopeless. 'Let me through it.'

'MAG I continue?'

'Here?'

His hand slides out of her shoulder. Despite the warm evening he suddenly cold. It suppresses the tendency to flip teeth.

'Here.' She pointing to his garden tool. He sees a bag of manure, a bag of earth, the machine saw, a rake, a mower, a bucket, the box in which mandarins have sat.

'In the barn? But here is the party. Here is nothing, girl. Here is nothing at all.'

'I like to be alone. I must also…'

She picks the bucket, turns around and moves that sit in it.

'Look," she says, 'I'm sitting here doing good. I am no one to load.'

He hesitates. He must find this well? Completely normal is he not. One caught up in the barn while the party in the living room is in full swing. Well, he has celebrations of his wife could be pulled back into the bedroom, but he is a man, and when he did he was already a man on age. One that could make no friends, but who had come to the conclusion that the with only two daughters also best presentation.

'Well,' he says. 'For my part. If you feel like it. If this is your idea of a party. I will give you something to drink. What do you have? And you can make light. There is also light." He points to the light button. 'I will give you something to read? The newspaper today?'

'Dank you. I do nothing to read. I am myself gently pats.'

He bows down as if he were its not good can be understood. He also believes that he has not really understood her. 'What are you going to do?'

'I do myself gently stroke. So.' With her right hand rubs them slowly over her left arm. She is doing slow, that they would feel what eng and is unknown. A reptile. Her arm is a reptile.

A few seconds he looks at the scene and with a light feeling of unease. With a presumption that is becoming more and more urgent: would he not witness. Not right now. Never really.

In the distance he hears the music of the party. Votes.