Tirza

'He does so.'

So they remain there, two minutes, three minutes, ten minutes. Silently. The man who is to be filled, the daughter of a trip around the world.

Until they called upon: 'You have him!' She looks to the right, the side of the Jacob Obrechtstraat, and ship's steward looks with her.

He sees a man in a tracksuit by the rain, a sports bag casually on his shoulder. Mohammed Atta, he thinks. There you have it. He is back. He is there. That they do not see it.

Tirza rent him meet. Ship's steward remains in the porch and looks at how it discloses. He follows her movements, he is studying the basis of Atta that on the back of his daughter remains lie. He'll wince.

Then walk them together in the direction of a ship's steward, just next to each other.

Atta indicates the father a hand.

'I have you not to wait too long?' he asks.

'A QUARTER,' says ship's steward. 'More not.'

He opens the tailgate of his car and crams the sports bag of Atta in addition to the scoop.

'You have not much to you for someone a long journey. Not even a backpack.'

'What I miss i can always buy, and drying clothes fast in Africa,' explains Atta like he is perfectly aware continent.

'That's where.' ship's steward nods. 'In Africa dries quickly everything.' He remembers vakantiewasjes in Italy. He remembers the holidays when they were a family, a family that was more or less intact. More or less.

Ship's steward crawls back the steering, he put the windscreen wipers. Tirza does alongside him. Atta remains only on the rear bench seat.

The call is cumbersome. To Utrecht they have but two sentences changed. Tirza has set up its iPod. Atta doze off intermittently, ship's steward in his mirror.

The last piece is the better. There is developing a civilized debate on the pros and cons of development aid.

Install After Arrival Tirza is in the room that has already been used as guest room at the time was Hofmeesters parents still lived. Atta runs through the garden and smells like a flower to sporadically. After a quarter of an hour he is sitting in the living room. For the fireplace he plays a game of Scrabble with Tirza.

Mohammed Atta scrabbelt. Interesting. Who would have thought?

Ship's steward itself works in the garden. He must be the tension of the drive to see the voltage of what feels like an unnecessary and dishonorable rest: the last part of his life.

Occasionally he raises a look in through the window and sees his daughter and her friend embroiled in a party game. It allows him not reassured.

Now his children are out of the house, he must learn to die. But he does not know where or to whom he les can take.

Half an hour or two he goes to within and asks: "Have you hungry?'

'hunger is not really,' says Tirza, 'but cold we have it.'

'I will create the fireplace,' says ship's steward. 'I actually had hoped that we were able to dine in the garden tonight. It is more winter food.'

With some effort he receives the fireplace. The bending, causing him to pain in the back. Pain is probably exaggerated, he is aware of his back. A consciousness that he knew not earlier.

If the fire is lit at last, he has good must revive and pokers, he remains a few minutes with the gear lever in his hand. It is nice. He forgets his surroundings. He is a man who, while he is busy trying to enter the, to fire watch and that fire calls memories with him at the time, vague and onsen tele memories of his parents, his youth, his study time.

Only when he his daughter pap hear it said, if him in extricating themselves from his mind.

'Papa," she says, 'I'm a sandwich, I will also make a for you?'

'I do,' he answers. 'Keep you but sit.'

He is the shift lever in the standard, wipe off his hands on the old trousers that he used for in the garden and looks for a few seconds for the word that his daughter is to impose on the board.

'To me only with cheese dates,' says Atta.

'O, do you also want a sandwich?'

'Please, but only with cheese.'

'That's no problem,' says ship's steward while he looks to the game. They may well, Tirza, scrabbelen. 'We are eating the sandwiches with cheese and tomato in our family, we are not fond of ham, we do not hold of sticky meat.'

In a frying pan toasts he three sandwiches with cheese and tomato. The parents of a ship's steward have never purchased a toaster.

At the table in the living room to eat his sandwich on, while Tirza and Atta continue with scrabbelen. With a paper towel wipe it every three seconds off his mouth, afraid if he is that there crumbs sticking to his lips.

"Do you like to peelt scrabble?' requires Atta.

'No,' replies, 'I can ship's steward not good.'

'But pap, you have very often in the past with me gescrabbeld.'

His daughter looks at him surprised. As if he is lying.

'I think it will be a disaster to do, but i found it more fun for example if we played risk, or monopoly or farmers bridge.'

'we will play monopoly tonight, Mr ship's steward?', Atta for.

Ship's steward looks at him, the man who is making, even flowers smells to the father of his girlfriend to vote favorably. But for a ship's steward will not need it. He would like to say to him: 'Doe you best not. It helps not.'

'Well,' he says, 'if I can find the game, we play after dinner tonight monopoly.'

Then he goes into the garden and he concentrates on his work, in order not to have to think.

For an hour or five, while he is dead branches of an apple tree to saw, Atta toward him.

Ship's steward put the saw off. He climbs of his ladder.

"I wanted to ask you what,' says Atta.

'Go Ahead.'

'You don't that i with your daughter on one room sleep?'

Now the father laughing, for the first time he really must laugh this man.

He moves the cutting of his left to his right hand.

'What are you going to do in Africa?' he asks. 'on two different bunk beds are? Two different youth hostels Book? Where do you see me to?'

'Not. Of course not. But here in your home is something different. Maybe.'

This house is just so much of me as Tirza. If it has no objections to it with you on one room to sleep, I think it is excellent.'

Atta looks at the apple tree.

'You do it well,' he says. 'I mean how you the branches saws.'

My parents had a tool shop.' ship's steward can still not say without a light feeling of embarrassment. A tool shop. But it declares a hope. He saw juggling.

'Yes, Tirza told something. Anyway, I just wanted to have asked, my parents are also…'

'Yes? What are they?'

Ship's steward tail to him. Tirza's boyfriend. The man that he not only too old for his daughter, but simply uncomfortable. Uncomfortable in his politeness, uncomfortable in his presence, uncomfortable at first sight.

'You will not find a man good enough for Tirza,' the wife had said. But that is not the case. It is intuition.

My parents are also very conservative.'

'I am not conservative,' says ship's steward, 'I am realistic and practical. Are they religious?'

'My parents? Yes, also that.'

'That,' reiterates ship's steward.

The young man stays procrastinating, while a ship's steward back to top klimt and continuing with saw. If Atta there after three to five minutes state, he comes for the second time down and asks: 'Would you also agree to try?'

'What?'

'Branches refraining. Pruning. In the garden work.'

Atta laughs. "I have never done before.'

'Have you parents are not Garden?'

'They have a balcony.'

Ship's steward wipe with the back of his hand over his mouth, his chin, his cheeks. 'O, but a public house with balcony can also quite nice. Well, if you want to try it?'