Arnon Grunberg - Tirza

There are two tables filled. He recognizes people last night. Once again the silence calls, now he appears with the child.

They sit down. Guests must operate itself at the buffet, but a ship's steward is not yet. The walk is difficult.

The girl that also last night, 'operated Coffee, Mr ship's steward?'

He nods. 'and for the young lady,' he says, 'hot chocolate, is that something? Hot chocolate.'

His hat he has not set up this morning, but his briefcase he is in itself. Everything is included in what he needs.

Just as he wants to get up with the child to go to the buffet, vibrates the telephone in its pocket. It is the wife.

'Why do I hear nothing from you?' she asks.

The 'Create your worried?' he whispers, although no one can be understood. 'Dat do not.'

'Not for you. To Tirza.'

'I think that they are not more in Windhoek. I think they have gone to the coast or to the desert. I will have a look.'

'Look? Jörgen, it is not a treasure hunt. Is it not time that you go to the police and declaration of a missing person?'

'I know that it is not a treasure hunt. Do you think i for a treasure hunt eighteen hours fly?'

'I want you to do anything.'

'Are you worried?'

'Ibi is concerned. They call twice a day. She makes any odes concerned. She makes me nervous, I know that the nonsense yet. Do you already have been to the police?'

'De police? This is Namibia.'

'Yes, but surely you agree to the police. Or do you want to do in Amsterdam?'

'I call you later. Everything is under control. They come up above water. You have said so yourself. It is our just forget it.'

He flips its telephone close, puts it.

The child looks equally neutral to him as always.

My wife is concerned, they think that it is good if we go to the police.'

Ship's steward is On, runs concurrently with the girl to the buffet. For the buffet engages the child his hand. They shall designate a croissant. He shall submit the croissant on a sign.

'Yoghurt?' he asks. 'fruit yoghurt?'

When they sit around the table and there is a glass of chocolate milk for the children is, he says: 'I have to tell you something, Kaisa. It is really funny.'

With its coffee spoon taste of its he was a bit of fruit yoghurt.

He bows go to her, the spoon still in his hand. 'My life is coming to an end,' he says, 'I can nowhere.'

There are sounds in his voice something triomfantelijks, he hears the itself. As if it is somewhere a performance is to be able to go anywhere. No longer to be able to escape.

She nods. It will be the sound of his voice which have been a gentle smile on her face to appear. The sound of someone generous joking, the sound of a man who is on the point of a child to tickle.

'people,' he says, 'create a story of their life. So they are creating order. That is what stories are. Create order. The story that I have made is…' he takes a large sip coffee. 'It has got out of control.'

Also he feels the calm sadness that he knows from the hills of Southern Germany, when his daughter was in the clinic.

'If there is nowhere more can,' he says, 'keeps the game on, then you finally arrived in reality. My wife and I frequently played. In the past. Than I was the rapist with a knife, and they are a cyclist. In the Vondelpark. In Amsterdam. At Night. We played, my wife and i, what we did was a game.'

He picks up his shoulders. He did not know what he was still further to say.

When the girl are coffee bijschenkt, he sees on her face that he is not a long time in this hotel can continue. He sees a censure which hardly differs from anger. It is not made to travellers special entertainment search, and although he would like to explain that he has no special are looking for some fun, not even normal entertainment, he knows that the hopeless task.

He is on, the child from her helps seat, and runs to his room. As they walk away, engages the child his hand. The Surprise him now not more that it will do so. It seems as if it were to hear.

For the door remains. He bending itself. 'You need to house,' he says. 'where you live, Kaisa?'

She gives no answer, they looks past him.

Again it reiterates the question. Again no answer.

'I need my daughter search, Kaisa,' he says, 'they is lost. People are worried. There is terribly worried. Where do you live?'

He picks up its both hands, squeeze out a little. 'Where do you live?' he asks.

Her answer does not come as a surprise and it makes him nauseous. 'Do you want company, sir?'

He has always thought that the nonsense, people who say that they are sick from fear. He has not really believed. Now he is making the note. He is sick of fear and he knows not even for which he is afraid, or there still is something to be afraid of.

Ship's steward opens the door, the girl slips along him, sit on the seat that they clearly sees as the hare.

'Well then,' he says, standing for the minibar, 'you may still remain a day. I think it is great because we were so good to talk to each other. We understand each other, Kaisa. And do you know why? Because we do not disapprove.'

He expresses his hat on his head, grabs his briefcase back on and take the hand of the child. For the rear view mirror does he also.

'It was in line with expectations that i would be publisher,' he says via the mirror against Kaisa, 'but you know what happened? I was not a publisher. I lost my ambition, I got my faith is lost. My ambition was my faith. A man without faith is not much. Hardened, perhaps, clad. A tank. Watch us, Kaisa. What are we? People without faith. Though we have together. I float through space, I sit on one. To you my hand picked, since the stop light. When i sat up to you. That is the way it is. You had a hand to tackle other, but you picked the mine. What you thought, Kaisa? What you saw when i came over? It was my hat? Had you already addressed many people that day?'

He walks with her to the city. They on bare feet, He on sandals. Now and then he stays at a crossroads and he asks: 'Where are we going, Kaisa?' She pulls him than in the direction which according to its the best. They have a lunch in a petrol station and around four hours in the afternoon drink cola in a billiards club. Occasionally says something about the ship's steward daughter, his work, Africa. Kaisa listens without saying anything in return. Sometimes they whispers: 'money, Mr. Money.' than he gives her a few Namibian dollars, but she has nothing to keep them in. She has only those dress. In the event of a street vendor purchases a vibrant pouch for her. He show her that they are the Namibian dollars can stop. 'Look,' he says, 'this is the open and close.'

The state its, the pouch, the liven up her. They drag with them as a pupa.

In a park in the center of the city, he sit on a bench with a childrens play area. There are swings and two slides, a high and a low. Ship's steward is here the only white. First climbs on the low Kaisa slide, but after a few times they also dare of the high. Ship's steward runs to her by the sand, the prickles between its toes, the spiked in his wounds.

'Come on,' he says at the bottom of the slide, 'it is not eng.' He shall commence its on, and he remembers how his own children ever has acquired so.

He is at 5 p.m. for the internet cafe near Independence Avenue. Also doubt it. Then he runs the staircase that leads to the cafe. He is going to sit behind his fixed computer, the child on his lap.

'Here I come almost daily,' he says soft, 'to see if they mailed.'

He opens his e-mail, there are only e-mails of the wife and what advertising. He reads the e-mails that he has not received, that of the wife, he continues to sit behind the computer without doing anything. Soft he runs his fingers through the girl by her hair.