Karl Knausgaard - Dancing in the Dark

If I had grown up here I might have been familiar with every bush and rock, as I was with the countryside around our house in Tybakken. But I had lived here for only three years and no roots had developed, nothing meant anything, not really.

I turned off the music, pulled the headset down over my neck. Above me the air was so full of birdsong that it felt as if I could see it. Now and then there was a rustle in the undergrowth beside the path, that must have been birds too, I mused, but I didn’t see any.

The path rose gently, in constant shadow from the high trees growing on both sides. At the top there was a small lake, I lay down on the grass not far away, on my back and stared at the sky while listening to music, I played Remain in Light , and thought about Hanne.

I had to write another letter to her. It had to be so good that she wouldn’t be able to think about anything else but me.

Dad didn’t need much help from me with moving the following afternoon. He carried all the boxes himself, loaded them onto the big white rental van and drove off to town, three trips was all it took; it was only when it came to the furniture that he needed a helping hand. With it aboard he slammed the doors shut and shot me a glance.

‘Let’s keep in touch,’ he said.

Then he laid a hand on my shoulder.

He had never done that before.

My eyes went moist and I looked down. He removed his hand, clambered up into the driver’s seat, started the engine and drove slowly downhill.

Did he like me?

Was that possible?

I wiped my eyes on my T-shirt sleeve.

That was that, I thought. I would never live with him again now. From the edge of the forest came the cat, his tail held high. He stopped by the door and looked at me with his yellow eyes.

‘Do you want to go in, Mefisto?’ I said. ‘Are you hungry too?’

He didn’t answer, he rubbed his head against my leg as I went to open the door, darted in towards his dish and stood there staring up at me.

I opened a new can, dumped a large pile in the dish and went into the living room where a faint trace of Unni’s perfume hung in the air.

I opened the terrace door and stood in the step outside. Even if the sun no longer shone on the house it was still warm out there.

Per came up the hill, walking with his bicycle at his side.

I went to the edge of the slope.

‘Have you been working?’ I shouted.

‘By the sweat of my brow!’ he shouted back. ‘Not like some people I know who sleep all day!’

‘How much did you earn for your pension today?’

‘More than you’ll ever earn in the course of your whole life.’

I watched him chuckling. He was the type that chuckled and had always been older than his years.

He raised a hand in salute, I did the same and then I went inside.

Two of the pictures on the living-room wall had gone. Half of the records, I assumed, and half of the books. All his papers, the desk and the office equipment. The sofa in front of the TV, the two Stressless leather chairs. Half of the kitchen utensils. And of course all his clothes.

But the house didn’t seem to have been stripped.

In the room beside the hall the telephone rang. I hurried over.

‘Hello, this is Karl Ove,’ I said.

‘Hi, Yngve here. What’s new?’

‘Dad’s just left with the last load. Mum will be here soon. So I’m on my own with the cat. Where are you?’

‘I’m at Trond’s still. I was thinking of coming over. Tomorrow actually, but if your dad’s gone I might come tonight.’

‘Could you? That would be great.’

‘I’ll see. Arvid would have to drive me. He might have time. Anyway, perhaps see you tonight then!’

‘Fantastic!’

I cradled the phone and went to see what food there was in the fridge.

When mum drove up the hill an hour later I had fried some sausages, onions and potatoes, sliced some bread, put out the butter and set the table.

I went to meet her. She drove the car into the garage, got out, stretched up on her toes, grabbed the door and closed it.

She was wearing white trousers, a rust-red sweater and sandals. She smiled when she saw me. She seemed tired, but then she had been driving all day.

‘Hi!’ she said. ‘Are you alone?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Did you have a nice time in Denmark?’

‘Yes, great. And what about you? Did you have a nice time in Sørbøvåg?’

‘Yes, I did.’

I leaned forward and gave her a hug. Followed her into the kitchen.

‘Have you made some food?!’ she said.

I smiled.

‘Take the weight off your feet. You’ve been driving all day. I’ll put some water on for tea. I didn’t know exactly when you would get here.’

‘No, of course. I should have rung,’ she said. ‘Tell me then. How was it in Denmark?’

‘It was really good. Some fantastic pitches. We played a couple of games. And then we went out on the last night. But the best fun was the class party. That was really great.’

‘Did you meet Hanne there?’ she said.

‘Yes. That was the great bit.’

She smiled. I smiled too.

Then the phone rang. I went in and answered it.

‘Dad here.’

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘Is mum there now?’

‘Yes. Do you want to talk to her?’

‘No, what should I talk to her about? We were wondering if you would like to visit us on Monday. A little house-warming party.’

‘Love to. When?’

‘Six. Have you heard anything from Yngve?’

‘No, I think he’s on Tromøya.’

‘Tell him he’s invited too if you hear from him.’

‘OK, will do.’

‘Good. See you.’

‘See you.’

I put down the phone. How could his voice be so cold now when he’d put his hand on my shoulder only a few hours ago?

I went into the kitchen, where mum was pouring hot water into the teapot.

‘That was dad,’ I said.

‘Oh?’ she said.

‘He invited me to dinner.’

‘That’s nice, isn’t it?’

I shrugged.

‘Have you heard from him this summer?’

‘No, only from his solicitor,’ she said, putting the teapot on the table and sitting down.

‘What did the solicitor have to say?’

‘Well. . it’s all about how to share the house. We can’t agree, but it’s nothing you have to worry about.’

‘Have to? I can worry about it if I want, can’t I?’ I said as I put the spatula in the pan and transferred some sausages, potatoes and onions onto a plate.

‘You don’t have to take sides. I suppose that’s what I mean,’ she said.

‘I took sides years ago,’ I said. ‘When I was seven I took sides. So that’s nothing new. Or a problem.’

I stuck the fork into a bit of sausage that had curled up in the heat, put it to my mouth and sank my teeth into it.

‘But if things go the way it looks as if they’re headed we won’t have much money in the future. That is, you’ll get your payments from dad of course. They’re yours to dispose of as you like, I suppose. But as I’ve got to buy his share of this house it’s going to be tough economically for me.’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘It’s only money. That’s not what life’s about.’

‘True enough.’ She smiled. ‘That’s a good attitude to have.’

Yngve and Arvid arrived at about ten. Arvid just poked his head round the door to say hello before leaving again while Yngve dragged a suitcase and a big bag up to his room, which he had hardly used in the three years we had lived there.

‘You’re not going tomorrow, are you?’ I said when he came back down.

‘Nope,’ he said. ‘The plane leaves the day after. Perhaps. I’ve got a standby ticket.’

We went into the living room. I sat down in the wicker chair, Yngve sat beside mum on the sofa. Outside two bats flitted to and fro, disappearing completely in the darkness of the mountains across the river, then reappearing against the lighter sky. Yngve poured coffee from the Thermos.