Karl Knausgaard - Dancing in the Dark

She got up, we crossed the floor, I closed the door behind us and there we were, each holding a glass and standing between the towers of books and piles of paper and cardboard boxes.

She looked around. I sat down on the chair.

‘What were you going to show me?’ she said.

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘It was just so boring in there. Come and sit over here.’

I held her hand, she sat down on my lap. Then she took the initiative, picked up my hand and studied it. Ran her thumb over my palm.

‘Wow, they’re so soft,’ she said. ‘You’ve never done any manual work in your life, have you.’

‘Not a lot,’ I said.

‘Never used a spade? Or a spanner?’

‘No.’

She shook her head.

‘That’s not good,’ she said. ‘And you bite your nails, I can see. Are you the nervy type?’

‘Yes, I suppose I am.’

‘And why was I to go home with you, did you say?’

I sat there with a hard-on, not knowing what to say.

She leaned forward and opened her mouth. We kissed. I stroked her back, then I held her tight and pulled her to me, hard, she was so lovely , and she moved her head away.

She stroked my cheek.

‘You’re nice,’ she said.

Her dark eyes lit up as she smiled.

We kissed again.

Then she got up.

‘I have to go,’ she said.

‘No. You can’t,’ I said. ‘Not now.’

‘Yes, I can. But I’m here tomorrow too. Pop round if you like. I’ll be at mum’s.’

She opened the door, I accompanied her to the hall, she put on her jacket and went out, turned briefly and said bye, disappeared down the road.

Leaving her bag behind.

The next day, well, what was on my mind the next day?

Ine.

A miracle had taken place. In my room, last night, a miracle.

Ine, Ine, Ine.

But I put off the visit. The night before I had been drunk, everything took its own course. Now I was sober and could lose everything.

It was three o’clock before I dared venture out and set off on the long road there.

Her mother, an elderly woman with white hair, opened the door.

‘Is Ine at home?’ I asked.

‘Yes, she is,’ she said. ‘She’s in the living room. Come inside.’

Ine in the living room, that was quite different from Ine at a party. She was wearing grey jogging pants and a white T-shirt with a picture of a motorbike on. Her hair was pinned up. She smiled when she saw me, jumped to her feet and asked if I wanted some coffee.

‘Yes, please.’

She fetched a cup and placed a white Thermos on the table next to me.

I grabbed it and tried to unscrew the top. But my palms were too sweaty. My hand slipped round without gaining any purchase. When I applied all my strength it budged a little, but by then I had used all my strength and had none left to turn it.

She watched me.

I blushed.

‘Shall I give you a hand?’ she said.

I nodded.

‘My hands are so slippery,’ I said.

She came over and unscrewed the top with ease.

‘There we are,’ she said and sat back down.

I poured the coffee, took a sip.

So far I hadn’t said a word.

‘When are you going back? Tonight?’

She nodded. Her mother came in behind me.

‘You work with Hege, don’t you?’ her mother said.

‘Yes.’

‘Hege really likes you,’ Ine said. ‘She talks about you a lot anyway.’

‘Is that right?’ I said.

‘It is,’ she said.

What was this? What was I doing here? Were we going to make small talk ? How wrong was that? Wrong, wrong, wrong!

‘Where do you live in Finnsnes?’ I said.

‘Right behind the bank.’

‘Renting somewhere?’

She nodded.

‘Do you like Håfjord?’ her mother asked.

‘Yes, I like it a lot,’ I said. ‘I’m having a great time here.’

‘Yes, it’s a fine little place,’ her mother said.

‘Mum!’ Ine said. ‘You’re boring him.’

Her mother smiled and got up.

‘OK, OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you two in peace.’

She left the room. Ine drummed her fingers on the table.

‘Can I meet you again?’ I said.

‘You’re meeting me now,’ she said.

‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘But I meant in a different way. We could have dinner together or something like that. What do you think?’

‘Maybe,’ she said.

She looked fantastic sitting there. A red-faced sweaty boy was the last thing she needed in her life.

‘Actually I dropped by on my way to the school,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to do some work and prepare for tomorrow.’

I got up.

She got up.

I went into the hall, she followed and watched me put on my coat.

‘Bye then,’ she said.

‘Bye,’ I said, and hurried up the hill towards the school, where I had nothing to do, but I unlocked the door anyway, in case she was watching me from her house. I was fairly sure she had forgotten I existed the moment she closed the door behind me, nevertheless, I didn’t want to be caught out telling such a cowardly lie, and now that I was at the school I might just as well watch some TV, it was Sunday, there was always sport on then.

Ine, Ine, Ine, all the girls tittered when I went into the classroom for the first lesson the following day.

So everyone knew.

I ignored them but thought of nothing else.

Ine, Ine, Ine.

At night I lay awake musing on my next move. She had left her bag at mine, she would have to come and get it, wouldn’t she? Or should I take it to Finnsnes?

I had already put the nightmare visit to her house behind me, I hadn’t even been able to open the Thermos, so what could I expect of another visit? That she would throw herself into my arms?

I would have to meet her when I was drunk, that was my only chance.

Ine, Ine, Ine.

The brief memory of her burned inside me, I had never experienced anything similar, it was so unassailable, it was the focal point of everything, suddenly she was all that counted.

I walked back and forth between the house and the school during the day, went for long runs in the evenings to sweat out any thoughts of her, and then the following Sunday she appeared.

There was a knock at the door, I opened up, there she stood.

Beautiful Ine.

‘I left a bag here, I believe. Just came by to pick it up.’

‘Is it this one?’ I said, holding it up.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

She turned to go.

‘Wouldn’t you like to come in for a while?’ I said.

She shook her head, but not from side to side, the movement seemed to stop halfway, and I loved it.

‘I have to go back to Finnsnes,’ she said, starting to walk up the little slope to the road. It was slippery, she took small steps.

‘Did you come all this way just to get the bag?’ I said.

‘No. I’ve been here all weekend,’ she said. She had reached the top now and was striding out.

I knew nothing about her except that she was sixteen, liked motorbikes and went to a technical college.

Not much to base a relationship on.

But she was a miracle of nature, and she was tough.

Her breasts were big, her legs long.

What more could I want?

Nothing, that covered everything.

So what should I do?

Nothing, I meant nothing to her, that had taken her under five minutes to work out.

I told Hege everything. We sat nursing cups of tea.

‘Ine’s no good for you,’ she said. ‘You have no idea. So you’ll just have to forget it.’

‘I can’t,’ I said.

She looked at me. ‘You’re not in love with my little sister, are you?’

‘Yes, I am. That’s exactly what I am.’

She sipped her tea, stroked a long strand of hair away from her eyes.