Karl Knausgaard - Dancing in the Dark

I didn’t want that.

But money was a problem.

Mum had started working overtime to make ends meet. As well as her job as a teacher at the nursing college she had agreed to do extra shifts at Eg Hospital at the weekends and in the holidays. The house must have been making deep inroads into her money. She had bought dad out and taken on big loans. I barely noticed, I had the money I earned from the newspaper and dad’s child maintenance, and when that was gone it was still possible to get something out of mum, so that was fine. She did occasionally criticise my priorities, how could I buy three new LPs one Friday afternoon when I was walking around in shoes with the sole flapping off? They’re just material goods, I responded, objects, while music was completely different. This was the mind, for Christ’s sake. This is what we need, really, and I do mean really , and it’s important to prioritise it. Everyone prioritises. Everyone wants new jackets and new shoes and new cars and new houses and new caravans and new mountain cabins and new boats. But I don’t. I buy books and records because they say something about what life is about, what it is to be a human here on earth. Do you understand?

‘Yes, you’re probably right, in a way. But isn’t it terribly impractical to walk around with your soles coming off? And it doesn’t look very nice, either, does it.’

‘What do you want me to do? I haven’t got any money. I prioritised music on this occasion.’

‘I’ll have a little surplus this month. You can have it to buy some shoes. But you’ll have to promise me you’ll spend it on shoes and nothing else.’

‘I promise. Thanks very much.’

And so from her office in the nursing college I went to town and bought some trainers and a Nice Price LP.

At Easter the football team was going to a training camp in Switzerland, of course I wanted to go with them, but it was quite expensive and mum said no, she was sorry, she wished it didn’t have to be like this, but that was how it was, we didn’t have the money.

A week before the departure date she slapped the money on the table in front of me.

‘Hope it’s not too late,’ she said.

I rang the coach, not too late, no, he said, you can come along.

‘Wonderful!’ mum said.

During the days before we were due to leave I finished an article on Prince that I had been mulling over for ages. His new record, Sign o’ the Times , was absolutely brilliant and I wanted everyone to know.

Then we left. Bus through Denmark and Germany, spirits were high, we were drinking duty-free beer on the way, and when we got to the hotel, Bjørn, Jøgge, Ekse and I jumped off while the bus continued over the border to Italy, where a Serie A match was on the programme. We preferred to be in a bar drinking. When they came back at ten we were in a fantastic mood while they were exhausted after the journey and everyone wanted to go to bed early. I shared a room with Bjørn, it was on the fourth floor and more luxurious than any room I had ever slept in, with attractive furniture, mirrors and a carpet on the floor. We reclined on the beds, bottles of beer in hand. It was eleven at the latest, what about a trip into town to have a look? The rule was no noise after ten, by eleven everyone was supposed to be in bed, but they hadn’t exactly posted guards on the doors. We waited for a while, not wishing to risk meeting anyone in the corridors, then we went out, hailed a taxi, mumbled, ‘Downtown,’ leaned back and were driven along unfamiliar streets with the soft light from the street lamps shining down over us. The driver stopped in a square, we paid, got out and strolled towards the centre. Soon we came across a large building, we could hear music inside, there were bouncers on the door, we went in. There were discotheques, bars, an enormous casino and a stage where beautiful women stripped and other scantily clad women, equally beautiful, wandered around the audience.

Bjørn and I exchanged glances. What was this fantastic place?

We drifted round, looking and drinking, hung around the stage and watched the striptease, discovered to our horror that the scantily clad girls who were walking between the tables were the same ones as those dancing on the stage, hardly had we watched one go up than she was down and walking past us on the floor. We went into a disco, propped up various bars there, mooched around the room with the roulette tables, where the men were dressed in dark suits and all the women wore evening gowns, ended up in front of double doors at the other end and saw a hall beyond, with groups of people standing around and chatting while waiters dressed in black and white carried trays of wine glasses and canapés. We didn’t talk to anyone else, drank non-stop, left at about half past three in the morning and six hours later were running round a field in a semi-conscious state. Slept for a couple of hours before the next round of training, had dinner, drank some beers in the bar and then it was off to find a taxi to go to this palace, where we floated around like in a dream until the following morning. Then we had to get up and go skiing in the Alps, there was something dreamlike about that too, for the sky was completely blue, the sun was shining, everywhere we looked white mountains towered in the air, and after a few minutes on the lift, with our skis dangling beneath us, everything was perfectly still. As though we had passed into another state. All that could be heard was the low hum of the lift close to us, otherwise it was completely and utterly still. A sense of jubilation filled me, for the silence was as vast as an ocean, while there was also something painful about it, as there is in all joy. The silence high up in the mountains, surrounded on all sides by beauty, allowed me to see myself or become aware of myself, not in relation to my psyche or my morality, this had nothing to do with my personal qualities, this was all about being here, this body which was ascending, I was here now, I was experiencing this and then I would die.

I slept on the bus back, had a headache when I awoke, drank a few beers in the bar, had dinner, downed a few more because tonight everyone was going out, there was a disco near the hotel, we were there until one in the morning. I danced and drank and had a good word for everyone I saw. On the way back Bjørn and I climbed up onto a roof. It wasn’t any old roof, it was a Swiss roof, turret after turret soared upwards, we shinned up, climbed and sweated and finally stood aloft, roughly thirty metres above the car park, where a small crowd had gathered. Our legs trembled as we shouted into the night, then we crouched down and began the descent. When there were only a few metres left two men with torches ran over. The beams wandered back and forth in the blackness. Polizei , they said and came to a halt beneath us. One was holding his ID card and shining the torch on it. That must be Chief Inspector Derrick, I giggled. We jumped down. Our football coach came over to us, he could speak some German, and explained the situation to the two police officers, who, despite their sceptical glares, let us go. On our way down the hill to the hotel one of the players from the senior team came up alongside us. He said he thought we were so courageous, we were so tough, going out and drinking every night and climbing up that roof, he really looked up to us, he said, and wished he could do things like that, he didn’t dare, he wasn’t as tough as we were, and for that, he said, I admire you.

That was the word he used. Admire.

I would never have believed it, I said to Bjørn after he had disappeared into the group behind us. No, said Bjørn. That wasn’t bad, I said. He admired us. Bjørn looked at me. Shit, I said, the police coming and shining their torches on their badges. Polizei! Polizei! We laughed. Then it struck me that he knew we had been out drinking at night. Did that mean everyone knew? What did it matter anyway? The worst that could happen was that we would be barred from playing, but this was the fifth division we were talking about and the end-of-school festivities were in sight, so it wasn’t a big deal.