Arnon Grunberg - Tirza

'How could you do this?' calls on them. 'To my party, how could you do this?' and then repeat them remains: 'Why on my party? Why on my party? Why on my party?'

As if it would have been better if he had let Ester back, on a thursday night if the worker from Ghana the housing side had made. As if the than all had nothing. As if it was fine.

He picks up, despite its opposition, its main, he retains it. He must now say something he must now remember something.

'They gave me seduce,' says he slowly.

'They has seduced you? She is as old as I am, no, they are under. They can not you have seduced. So someone can not seduce you papa.'

They yanks are loose. Tirza rubs her eyes. That now as red as those of Ester just now.

'And even if that were the case, what an excuse? What is that for a lame excuse? Do you know what you are? You are a dirty man, dad. A dirty man.'

They cries now harder.

He should be against a tree sit back, he is afraid that he falls.

'They gave me seduce,' he says again and he remembers how wet she was, was so wet they, as humid. She was soaking wet. He wants to tell Tirza, he wants to say: 'Tirza, my Tirza, Ester was soaking wet', but he is in, he says: 'They was…' He let the tree. A few steps in the direction of his youngest daughter.

'Touch Me,' growling them. 'Go away.'

He remains in place. A glass gewürztraminer from Italy would do well.

'I do not touch you, Tirza,' he says. 'I am… I am… I am also a man. I can do nothing, I am also a man.'

She keeps her hands for her eyes.

'You're no man," she says, 'You're dirty. That is what you are. How can I still looking at you? How can I touch you? How can I find your thinking when dad?', and they shout: 'go away. Go away!'

Why should Tirza well as rude and unkind do? As he knows really only Ibi.

He seeks his hands to her. 'But that is what are men,' he says, 'Tirza soft, that is what they are. Nothing I can do. I know there is no one that is not dirty. The man is his own filth.'

'Go away,', 'Go them whispers Road, dad. Please dont go away. I am sure it is a good one, it is good. But you must now leave.'

Indecisively, he remains a couple of centimeters away from his youngest daughter. He would like to throw at its feet.

'come with me to the celebration,' he says soft. 'We will go together to within, Tirza. It is so nice, you final exam celebration. I return to sardines buckets as though nothing has happened. There is also nothing happened.'

'Go away,' she whispers.

Is he for her, then he walks slowly in the direction of the barn. The Bright, calm sadness that thanks to Ester minutes changed in infectious happiness, is now carried out in something slightly nor calm, but as a disease slaughtered comes on, impetuous as a hurricane, deadly as an earthquake.

In the barn is illuminated light.

Ester still has its trousers on the ankles. But she is sitting. On the bucket.

Ship's steward state in the opening of the door. He looks at the girl on the bucket.

'Are you?' he asks.

'I am at the lakes," she says.

Then he sees the bucket not more vice versa. He also now smells of urine. He smells everything again.

Soon he runs through. As soon as he can, without overturning. That he wants to provisionally not shed more in.

In the kitchen serves himself a glass of wine. Also he thinks of nothing, there is only the taste of the wine.

Than he retrieves, more out of habit than out of necessity, the last scale with sashimi from the refrigerator.

When he enters the room he sees the wife climbed on the dining table is. The lights are still more darkened. The children are around her. It is being playbacken. Dolly Parton. Of course, who else. Its heroine.

One of the breasts of the wife is visible.

While they playbacken is they are doing to get rid of the clothes they her eldest daughter has borrowed.

In a corner of the room condition Mohammed Atta. Ibi has now taken charge about him.

'Jolene Jolene Jolene,,' sings Dolly Parton and ship's steward can not stand to singing.

He wants no Dolly Parton, no sentimental outbursts of the mother of his children.

'Come on,' he calls. But they do not hear. Ever hear him. The music is too hard. The light is too scarce and the wife playbackt if her future depends on it. 'But I can easily understand how you could easily take my husband, but you don't know what he means to me, Jolene.'

They think it is wonderful, the children. Hofmeesters wife on the table. They find the nicer and nicer than its sushi, sashimi and sardines. They encourage her to. They scream its admitted that they should be louder dancing, that they must devote more, and she has quite a lot has been pulled out. Too much. Ibi's nail skirt.

Something they have in their parents have not yet seen. Hofmeesters wife is the attraction of the evening.

With the scale in his hand he goes to the bedroom. It converts the sashimi on the ground, takes place on the bed. It supports his face with his hand and weather it smell Ester. Very good. It smells like its as if they were present.

As Tolstoy on the end of his life rejected the art, ship's steward the sexuality for: 'Eitle Kurzweil müßiger men'.

The Bright, calm sadness smoke to the conifer forests of South Germany.

Only the shame is now still light and calm.

But this here for which a ship's steward no words, this hurt if there is already a word for must be, than but pain, this smell of the genus part of klasgenote Tirza's.

No, smells like Tirza itself.

Ship's steward remains motionless on the bed in the bedroom. A prisoner in his own home. He hears the music, he hears the front door open and close, the voice of Tirza, votes of people he can not home. Guests must be let. The party runs slowly on his end.

Many he would make up a glass gewürztraminer be able to drink, but he doesn't dare downwards. He must remain here until everyone has moved.

He hears gestommel above it. The tenant is also still awake.

There are countless thoughts, ideas, but they can not organize a ship's steward. The only thing it sure is that there is no hope. He is lost Tirza, he has its discredited. If a player cannot let he has the best, the most beautiful what he had deployed, and why? What he expected? It doubled that could be?

He has the feeling that he is already days in his bed. Already have a half-life, seated on a bed for the wardrobe. A man who made his bedroom not dare.

Then open the door. He focuses his head on, he expects the wife. It is Tirza. His Tirza. The Solar Queen. They remain stationary. She looks to her father.

'What do you do?" asks them.

He observes his daughter, he is studying her, to the extent that it is still capable of. 'I wait,' he says.

'Where?'

He picks up his shoulders. 'Everyone is already left?' he asks after a few seconds of silence. A tense, unpleasant silence.

'De most. There are still a few. The latter.'

'And? Is it all merged?'

'What?'

'De snacks. The sushi.'

'I don't, PAP, I really do not know.'

She looks around the room. And ship's steward does the same. He sees the belongings of the wife who has its share of the bed has taken into the possession as if they had never been reborn. On a seat are shirts. Neckties. Shoes of the spouse. Sandals.

'Papa,' says Tirza.

'Yes.' He speaks without her to look.

'How should the Nou?'

'That?'

'Met you.'

'Met me?' now he looks to her. 'But Tirza, what is that for a question?'

'How should the Nou with you?' she.

He shakes his head. 'You do not pressure to make. How any odes must. You must make your pressure your future.' And he remembers how he, when she was sick, against her had said: 'You have everything for you, you have the future for you.' as if it were the decisive argument was not starve to death.