Arnon Grunberg - Tirza

He is the kitchen within, wipe off his hands on a tea towel, which black immediately. It does not matter.

Now he will hear them anymore. The game is delayed. Can it be called sex game? Is that not a mistake, begins where the not correct sex game ceases? Yes, that's it. In the event of sex keeps the on, there begin something else. The fact that what is no game more can be called. The death. There is sand in his ears.

'Tirza,' he calls. 'Tirza.'

He is going to the living room.

The iPod is on the table, the Koran, a dice yesterday evening that he has to appear to have forgotten mountains. The Monopoly game. He picks up the book, scroll back in. He shall submit the dundruk, which all the holy texts own but also some older parts of the Russian Library, back on the table.

Let his shoes large, muddy spots. He must pull them. But he does not work. From his hair dripping water. His shirt sticks to his back.

'Tirza,' he calls again.

He is going up the stairs, but halfway he remains. In the bathroom he hears the shower running, but it can also be the sound of the rain. They will have to take a shower. After the love game showering. The wife will always immediately jumped in the shower after he had practiced her love as if a ship's steward a kind of mud bath was. Tirza is even nicer than the wife in its early years.

He drops the stairs. In his hand he holds the die of the Monopoly game. That touch you always lost. Especially the earlier Ibi still was playing. Who could not do against hair loss. If they were lost them with the dice, and months later they did you than under the heater against.

In the kitchen he opens a new bottle of wine. This does he tastier. Italian gewürztraminer. He drinks two glasses of wine, makes his shoes clean. He drinks detached and think also, although he did not understand why, Ester which love wants to abolish.

Ship's steward decision to go and get food, he has no meaning to cook this last evening. He wants to be with her, with Tirza, only with her, enjoy the time that they were together. Still he will hear the sound of the shower, they do not stop with shower and they want to be hot. That you get from that fuck on the dining table.

'No,' says ship's steward soft against himself, 'it is the shower not, it is the rain. They are doing an afternoon siesta.'

He washes himself in the kitchen, his face, his hands, he feels so dirty. Top clothe he still quickly. He pulls a shirt of his father.

With a plastic bag over his head to the car he runs. Soon he drives to the village. It travels by ponds. The water splash high.

Although it is in this time of the year until ten hours dark, he drives with large light. The roads are deserted. In some he sees opblaasbadjes gardens. It has on something else.

The woman behind the counter at the Indonesiër recognize him.

'You are Mr ship's steward?' she asks. 'I know you have been in the past.'

He nods.

'What do you out.'

'I have worked in the garden.'

'In this emergency again?'

He ignores its note.

'I have for three people eat necessary, make it something tasty from, a little of this and a little of that and what additional Prawn Chips. My daughter loves Prawn Chips. And they will be back tomorrow to Africa. Namibia, Botswana, Zaire, they want to see everything.'

'Oh, Africa.' itself must to see they not think, and rightly so. There are so many beautiful things to see in their own country. If you have an eye for the small. The ants, the beach tents, the roads. The houses. The Birds, the dunes.

'I make it a small rice table of. Always Nice.'

'They are but a few months away. Next year she comes back to study.'

After a quarter of an hour he received two plastic bags containing hot food for three persons and extra Prawn Chips.

It travels to house, with the radio on. An artist he can not bring home sings in Dutch.

The rice, the meat and fish anytime he was on the table from. Really festive are not containers plastic, but to compensate for that he plugs candles. There is also in the lower plastic cutlery, that he decides to use but now he has suffered greatly from it.

'Tirza,' he calls, 'food'.

He brings the bottle of wine to the dining table and opens a new one.

They are still above, they are being so. They are back in bed, he knows he reminds of the past. Sex, excellent. But why then remain so long? Or even worse: fall asleep. If you are already in the middle of the day have sex, then move than do something, roll up your sleeves. Ibi was at least as very. How often he had not at the end of the afternoon her room door open and see her sleep with a guy in her arms? Sexes and sleep, and if he said some of it replied: 'You're crazy.'

But he was not mad he was concerned. Ship's steward knew the future as an all too frequently visited camping.

On the table Tirza's iPod. Idea free starts to play with a ship's steward Just as he does so without thought the caps in his ears. He is listening to music he can not home. It on and starts to dance.

As dance Tirza sometimes also with him in the kitchen or in the living room. The silent disco calls them the.

Normal dance ship's steward not, but now he is not afraid to be seen. He loses itself.

The rain is not delayed. The grass that he has sown again yesterday has been changed in a mud hole. He shall submit the iPod back on the table and runs to the garden. Sin, he thinks. Everything is washed away, all the seed. Road. Disappeared.

He puts a hand in the earth. They must learn to die. He is also in the process of doing just that. Ship's steward is a self-taught in the die.

And while he is, she crouched in his garden, he tries to imagine what will tomorrow. The last day, the day of Tirza's departure. The last day for the epilogue of his life begins.

He will get up early, as always. He will start the day with the making of a nice breakfast for three persons. He himself will the detached in the kitchen food, much hunger will he does not have. On these days he never hunger.

The breakfast for his daughter and her friend he will bring their in bed. They will sit upright in their bed, without saying anything. If they find it strange and uncomfortable outside, such a last day in the old Europe. Such a last day with a ship's steward, and his hand will tackle Tirza, for he is turned over to back down to continue. 'You need to think about love, PAP,' she will a whisper. 'Really good in love, just as I.'

At eleven they will start. To err on the side. Perhaps there are files, wegopbrekingen. You do not know. And you want to have to worry in the car, you would not of the nerves and the voltage at the airport arrival. Far too early they will arrive in Frankfurt.

They will have a cup of coffee in the Departures Hall, hastily, without too much to say. He will sweaty hands.

At check-in, he will leave them alone, the set that is not set, but a mistake. He will continue to wait at the sign which says 'meeting point'.

For them by the customs, will they once come back to him. Shy.

As far as he had to say, but if the moment he will be nothing else than to know: 'Beware. Only well on each other. Carefully do.'

Atta will cause him to hand.

It will ship's steward Tirza against itself and pressing.

Atta will polite a few steps backwards.

Ship's steward will fight against the tears, he will win the of the tears, he has always won by the tears.

'Does your mobile phone out there doing?' he will still have questions.

'Papa,' she will say, 'die do i really not that is much too expensive. If he already doing.'

He will squeeze in her arms. He will squeeze and pinch, he will despair squeezing out of her as the last remnants of toothpaste out of the tube.

'call me if you arrived. No matter how late. Call me. Collect call,' he will say.