Tirza

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.

Ship's steward sweat. Under his armpits he sees wet spots. The moisture of a long night.

'What possessed you?' The voice of his daughter sounds not accusing but inquisitive. Almost curious.

'When? What I would have had to revitalize?'

'Met Ester. A short while ago. What… What about you?'

He rubs his cheeks, his mouth, his forehead. He would like to say something, but there is nothing in it. The beast in him had spoken, and the beast speaks without words. The language of the beast is speechless. The bite and licked, as well as spitting out and tearing open. But such as people speak, no, not.

'Date you think is bad enough, but that you do. To my party.'

He looks to the balcony. The doors are open.

'It was a nice party,' says he slowly. "Everyone has being entertained, i to all guests are concerned. Nobody is something deficit. There was enough sushi. And also the sashimi is not yet.'

'Papa, give answers.'

'What was asking you?'

'What you possessed? What you thought? What you came about? About did you something?'

He picks up his shoulders, a typical motion for him, and while he that for the second time, as though this movement must be sufficient response, they sit on the bed. In addition to him, but with distance, they do not touch each other.

'I WANT not," she says, 'i not more to you can think about when dad. Mama already exists. Not for me at least. I do not want to be rejected. I want you to papa continues. I am too young to be stressed.'

He would like to scream if a downed soldier who can only hope for a final shot but by his comrades is not found. Nowhere is a ship's steward. And to be honest: nobody is searching for him.

'I remain who i was,' he says with hoarse voice. 'Everything remains as it was. There is nothing has changed.'

'But I think you really dirty. You are dirty for me.' Despite these words she explains her hand in his neck and also does he think he dies, also does he know what it is: die.

'I,' he says, 'we are going down. We will go together to the bottom. It is not very. Ester and I played it. And it ran out of hand. That can happen. Certainly at a party.'

He tries to get up, but he must gather strength and courage. And while he is doing, he tries the word 'dirty' to understand. It is for him that he had always been dirty for themselves and for others, and that its attempts to come closer were nothing else than attempts to be less dirty. In that one word, expressed carelessly, it seems, at the core of its existence. The constant factor.

'What did you?'

'a game,' he whispers. 'a game, Tirza. Sometimes you have to play that you are someone else. That is healthy. You must be flexible dealing with your identity. Only lunatics continue all the time who they are. I am your father, and you are my daughter, my love and my youngest daughter, my love most daughter. But sometimes we play that we have someone else, that you for example the solar queen are and i the high priest. In order not to be completely crazy should we play. To make our sense not to lose. We have no choice. How savvy you are, the better you can play. You are very intelligent, therefore you can play so well.'

When he thinks of the word 'dirty' he thinks of the degree of fear, he thinks of itself: a man with the degree of fear, a man who has his own body looks like a filthy public toilet. And as the expiration of that body shall recover the fear, who actually nothing else than censure, larger.

'I understand you not," she says. 'But that does not matter. I think. It does not matter that I do not understand you. If you get it all but would not deny it. You can also say: "I'm sorry."'

'Yes,' he says, 'you understand me. You understand me very well.'

Still has its hand in his neck and much more than he has just now need a glass of Italian gewürztraminer, bacing alone would provide a solution, the smell, the opening of the bottle.

'I need you when dad," she says, 'you understand? I need you when dad.'

'I need you too,' he whispers, 'Tirza, I need you too." And he pushes his fist in his mouth and he bites. He bites as the beast he reports to have thought, the word dummy beast that lives in him.

Still he will hear the music from downstairs.

'Was you have drunk?' she asks.

'Yes,' he says relieved, 'the drink that was it. The drink.'

Now he can get up. Now he has the force. A simple yet powerful response.

But they do not leave his neck.

'DUS I do not need to worry when I am in Africa?'

'Of course not,' he says, 'Why should you care? To whom? For me? Why?'

'It all goes well, even if I'm not there? Even if mama weather goes away? That makes no difference? You stay here just for yourself?'

'Of course,' he says, 'i live further. As I have arranged for you, I will make for myself, even if you are in Africa. I have heard no necessary. I live there is simply a loose, you know that yet?'

'But papa," she says, 'You can't. Life. Manage that you not at all.'

To her hand in his neck he notes that they cries.

He is still a part of his fist in his mouth. It soothes. The tines in the own meat moons are thoughts for calm.

'Why have you actually made us?'

He has bitten hard enough. The printing of his teeth are in the meat of his hand. 'It was an idea of your mother,' he says, 'but as soon as I saw I was sold. I was sold — sold at all.'

'O.'

He is on, iron are smooth and stops the shirt better in his pants. Also he has the feeling that he has under control again. Now he is the father he wanted to be the last few years, the man who paternity as appeal, in which all its ambitions lead. Distant, but charming. In the word joke about the tenderness, in the flauwiteiten and mops which he and his daughter and her friends to confront is the love that must remain legally.