Karl Knausgaard - Dancing in the Dark

They went and listened to the reading and subsequent discussion, came over when it was finished and said their goodbyes, I left with Tore, whom I had done my reading with, and a couple of others and drank all evening. Later that night I saw Andrea again, she was standing with a guy in a taxi queue, he was behind her and she stretched her hands back while he kissed her neck and then stroked her breasts. An almost desperate feeling of failure came over me then, I crossed the street, she didn’t see me or pretended she hadn’t seen me, and I thought, I could be with her now if I had played my cards right. But I was married, and I wasn’t playing a game, so I never got further than the thought, which pursued me across the ensuing months and years: I should at least have tried to get her out of my mind.

Two weeks after Vidar had sat down on the edge of Nils Erik’s bed and asked where I was I went south for the Easter holiday.

Mum, who was standing on the quay in Lavik when I arrived, seemed tired, she had worked a lot that year and when she wasn’t working was looking after her parents in Sørbøvåg.

During the day we chatted, she did all the cooking and I lay on the sofa reading or walked down to the mall in Førde to do the shopping, in the evening we watched TV.

She told me that Jon Olav was also home, I rang him, we arranged to meet in Førde the next night. He had grown up in Dale, an hour’s drive away, and the disco where we went was full of people he knew.

I drank beer and talked to him, and away from the reservation, which was how I had come to consider Håfjord, everything felt much simpler and easier. I said I was thinking of applying for a writing course at the Skrivekunstakademi in Hordaland. He had never heard of it even though it was in Bergen, the town where he was studying. But it was a new course, this year’s intake was the first.

‘Who are the teachers then?’ he said.

‘I’ve never heard of them. Think they’re some obscure Vestland writers. Ragnar Hovland, Jon Fosse and Rolf Sagen. You heard of them?’

Jon Olav shook his head.

‘It’s a bit of a poor do that it’s such a local affair,’ I said. ‘But it’s one year and you can get a study loan. So at least I’d be able to write full time.’

‘In your last letter you were going to Goldsmiths in London,’ he said.

I nodded. ‘I’ll apply there too. Yngve got me the address, and I’ve just written off for application forms.’

Jon Olav was scanning the back of the disco, which was packed, it was the first day it had been open since the weekend.

‘I’ll just be a minute,’ he said.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I said.

Oh, the pleasure of being in a place where no one knew me!

Felt the alcohol going to my head. Smoked a few cigarettes, eyed up some of the girls, relaxed completely for a change.

When he came back an hour later I was sitting on the same stool, in the same posture even, elbow on the bar, chin resting on my hand.

‘I met some gymnas friends,’ he said. ‘We’re over there. Come and join us.’

I slid off the stool and followed him. He stopped by a table at the other end of the room, near the exit.

‘This is my cousin, Karl Ove,’ he said.

Those sitting round the table looked at me without interest and nodded.

In the midst of them was a girl. She was talking to someone on the opposite side of the table and didn’t see me. She laughed and leaned forward with both palms on the table. Her skin was pale, her dark fringe hung over her eyes, but that wasn’t what made me stare at her, it was her eyes, they were blue and at first joyous, only to turn serious and gentle the next second.

There was something French about her, I thought, slipping down onto the chair next to Jon Olav. Her features were beautiful, but it was only when she laughed again that a shiver ran through me.

She had an aura around her.

‘Do you want a beer?’ Jon Olav said. ‘They’re closing soon.’

Two minutes earlier I would have been glad they were closing soon, now the thought made me desperate in the same senseless way that I was sad whenever anyone left a drinks party, as though with every person who left I came a step closer to death or some other calamity.

‘I’ll come with you,’ I said and followed him to the bar.

‘I can carry two beers,’ Jon Olav said.

‘Who’s she?’ I said.

‘Who?’

‘The girl at the table.’

Jon Olav turned. Hadn’t he even noticed there was a girl sitting at our table?

‘Oh her,’ he said. ‘That’s Ingvild.’

‘Do you know her well?’

‘No, hardly at all. She lives in Kaupanger. But I know her bloke. Tord. Sleeping in the chair over there. Can you see him?’

Typical.

As though I could have been in with a chance if she hadn’t been with him.

I was on holiday, at my mother’s, leaving in two days, what was I dreaming of? One look at a beautiful stranger, was that supposed to be the future? Me and her, oh yes?

Why?

She had an aura around her.

I drank half the glass at the bar while Jon Olav was paying, then I ordered another and took both glasses with me to the table.

Four of Jon Olav’s friends at the table got up and left immediately afterwards. They had come in the same car and were going home, I gathered.

Around the table now were only Jon Olav, someone he was talking to, Ingvild and me. As well as her bloke, that is, but he was asleep and so didn’t count.

I took a couple of hefty swigs.

She was staring over her shoulder.

‘Do you want this beer?’ I said when she finally turned her eyes back to the table. ‘It’s untouched. I haven’t had a sip.’

‘If anything was likely to make me suspicious it would be a total stranger offering me a beer he’s had standing in front of him for a while. But you look harmless enough.’

She spoke in the Sogne dialect, and her eyes narrowed when she smiled.

‘I am,’ I said.

‘But no thanks. I have to drive.’

She motioned towards the boy sleeping at the table.

‘I have to drive him home among other things.’

‘I’m a good driver,’ I said. ‘I can give you a few tips if you like.’

‘Oh please! I’m a terrible driver.’

‘First of all, it’s important to drive fast,’ I said.

‘Oh yes?’

‘There are those who claim it’s best to drive slowly, but I think they’re mistaken. It’s better to drive fast.’

‘OK, fast. Anything else?’

‘Well, let me see. . Yep, I was driving along the road once. The car in front of me was going slowly. I think it’s important to drive fast, so I simply overtook him. It was on a bend, I crossed into the opposite carriageway, stamped my foot down on the accelerator and then I was past him.’

‘Yes?’

‘That was all. I just carried on.’

‘You haven’t got a licence, have you.’

‘No. I really admire those who have. Actually it’s incredible that I dare talk to you. Usually I would have just sat staring at the table. But then I’ve had a bit to drink and I love talking about driving cars. The theory, that is. I think a lot about how best to change gear to get the smoothest drive, for example. The whole interaction between clutch and gear and accelerator and brakes. But not everyone likes to talk about it.’

I looked at her. ‘Has your boyfriend got a licence?’

‘How do you know he’s my boyfriend?’

‘He who?’

‘He on the chair.’

‘Is he your boyfriend?’

She laughed. ‘Yes, he is. And he’s got a licence.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ I said. ‘Was it driving cars that brought you together?’

She shook her head.

‘But tonight it seems to be forcing us apart. I could have done with a few beers as well. Especially if he’s asleep. He might have had the decency to fall asleep without drinking. Then I could have had one.’