Ю Несбё - The Kingdom

Grete looked at me as she sucked at her port. Clenched cheeks, lips shaped as though kissing around the straw. I got up, couldn’t sit there any longer, went out into the hall and put on my jacket.

‘Are you going?’ It was Stanley.

‘Heading down to the square,’ I said. ‘My head needs airing.’

‘There’s still an hour to midnight.’

‘I walk and think slowly,’ I said. ‘See you there.’

Walking down the highway I had to lean into the wind. It blew right through me, blew everything away. The clouds from the sky. The hope from the heart. The fog around everything that had happened. Shannon knew about Carl’s infidelity. She’d got in touch with me prior to going to Notodden so that she could have her revenge. Just like Mari wanted. Of course. Replay. I’d crossed my own footsteps; it was the same fucking circle all over again. Impossible to break out of it. So why struggle? Why not just sit down and let yourself drift into a frozen sleep?

A car drove by. It was the new red Audi A1 that had been standing outside Stanley Spind’s house. Meaning that the person in question must be driving under the influence, because I hadn’t seen anyone there who wasn’t drinking that yellow slush. I saw the brake lights as it turned off before the square, heading in the direction of Nergard’s farm.

People had already started gathering in the square, mostly young, wandering around aimlessly in groups of four or five. And yet everything, the tiniest gesture or action, had a purpose, an aim, was part of the hunt. People came from every quarter. And even though the wind swept across the open square you could smell the adrenaline, like before a football match. Or a boxing match. Or a bullfight. Yes, that was it. Something was about to die. I was standing in the alleyway between the sports shop and Dals Clothes for Kids and from where I stood I could take in everything without being seen myself. I thought.

A girl broke from the group she was in, it looked like a division of cells, her walk was unsteady but she came more or less in my direction.

‘Hi, Roy!’ It was Julie. Her voice was hoarse and slurred from alcohol. She put a hand against my chest and pushed me further into the alleyway. Then she wrapped her arms tightly around me. ‘Happy New Year,’ she whispered, and before I had time to react she pressed her lips against mine. I felt her tongue against my teeth.

‘Julie,’ I groaned, my jaws clenched.

‘Roy,’ she groaned back, clearly misunderstanding.

‘We can’t,’ I said.

‘It’s a New Year’s kiss,’ she said. ‘Everybody—’

‘What’s going on here?’

The voice came from behind Julie. She turned, and there was Alex. Julie’s boyfriend was in line to take over the farm at Ribu, and lads in line to take over the farm tend to be – with certain exceptions, such as me – big. He had the kind of thick, cropped hair that looks as though it’s been painted on the head, with a parting, gel and stripes in it, like an Italian footballer. I weighed up the situation. Alex looked a bit unsteady on his feet too, and he still had his hands in his coat pockets. He’d have more to say before he hit out. He had an agenda. I pushed Julie away from me.

She turned and saw clearly what was brewing.

‘No,’ she shouted. ‘No, Alex!’

‘No, what?’ asked Alex, pretending to be astounded. ‘I just want to thank Opgard and his brother for what they’ve done for the village.’ He held out his right hand.

OK, so no agenda. But the way he was standing – one foot in front of the other – showed plainly what he had in mind. The old handshake-to-nut-in-the-face trick. He was probably too young to know how many people I had beaten up. Or maybe he knew, but realised also that he had no choice, that he was a man and had to defend his territory. All I had to do was stand to one side of his line of sight, give him my hand, and jerk him off balance as he adjusted his footing. I took his hand. And at the same moment I saw the fear in his eyes. Was he afraid of me after all? Or was he afraid because he thought he was about to lose the one he loved, the one he had been hoping until now would be his. Well, soon he’d be flat on his back feeling the pain of yet another defeat, yet another humiliation, yet another reminder that he didn’t count for much, and Julie’s comfort would be like salt in his wounds. In short, a repeat of that night at Lund in Kristiansand. A repeat of that morning in the kitchen at the roofer’s house. A repeat of every fucking Saturday night at Årtun when I was eighteen years old. I’d be leaving the spot with yet another scalp in my belt, and I’d still be the loser. I didn’t want that any more. I had to get away, break out of the circle, disappear. So I let it happen.

He jerked me forward, butting me at the same time. I heard the crunch as his forehead met my nose. I took a backward step, and saw his right shoulder pulled back ready to swing. I could have easily sidestepped, instead I moved forward and walked straight into his punch. He yelled as his hand caught me directly below the eye. I steadied myself, ready for the next punch. His right wrist was hurting him, but after all, the lad had two hands. Instead he kicked out. Good choice. Caught me in the stomach and I doubled over. Then he elbowed me, catching me in the temple.

‘Alex, stop!’

But Alex didn’t stop. I felt the juddering in the cerebral cortex, the pain flashing like lightning in the dark before everything turned black.

Was there ever a moment when I would have welcomed the end? The net, the seine net that trapped me and drew me down under the water, the certainty that at last I would receive my punishment, for what I had done as well as for what I had not done? The sins of omission, as they call it. My father should be burning in hell because he didn’t stop doing what he was doing to Carl. Because he could have done. And I could have. So I should burn too. I was dragged down to the bottom, where they waited for me.

‘Roy?’

Life is, in essence, a simple matter. Its only goal is the maximising of pleasure. Even our much-lauded curiosity, our inclination to explore the universe and human nature, is a mere manifestation of the desire to accentuate and protract this pleasure. So when our sums end up on the minus side, when life offers us more pain than pleasure, and there’s no longer any hope of things changing, we end it. We eat or drink ourselves to death, swim out to where the current is strong, smoke in bed, drive when drunk, put off seeing the doctor even though the lump on the throat is growing. Or quite simply hang ourselves in the barn. It’s banal when you realise for the first time that this is actually a completely practical alternative; indeed, it doesn’t even feel like the most important decision of your life. To build that house or get that education – these are bigger decisions than choosing to end your life sooner than it otherwise would have ended.

And this time I decided I wouldn’t struggle. I would freeze to death.

‘Roy.’

Freeze to death, I said.

‘Roy.’

The voice calling to me was as deep as a man’s but soft as a woman’s, with no trace of an accent, and I loved to hear her say my name, the rolling, caressing way she pronounced the ‘r’.

‘Roy.’

The only problem was that the lad, Alex, risked a fine and possibly even a prison sentence that took no account of the situation that led up to the fight. In fact, it wasn’t even a ‘situation’ but a quite reasonable response, given how he’d misunderstood things.

‘You can’t lie here, Roy.’

A hand shaking me. A small hand. I opened my eyes. And looked straight into Shannon’s, brown and worried. I wasn’t sure whether she was real, or I was dreaming, but that didn’t matter.