Karl Knausgaard - Dancing in the Dark

‘Two minutes to the bell,’ I said. ‘If we walk slowly we’ll be at the door by the time it rings.’

He held my hand and we walked to the entrance together.

Andrea and Hildegunn were standing with their hands in their back pockets under Richard’s window and watched us as we approached.

‘ Poison ’s so boring,’ Andrea said. ‘Can we do something else?’

‘It’s a Norwegian literary classic,’ I said.

‘We don’t give a shit what it is,’ Hildegunn said.

I raised an admonitory finger to them.

They laughed and the bell rang.

On Saturday I played my first home game. Our strip was green with thin white stripes, white shorts and green socks. I played centre back while Nils Erik, wearing tights under his shorts, shuffled up and down the touchline.

There were quite a lot of people watching, most of them on the touchlines, a few on the slope facing. Vivian and Andrea were there, I waved to them before the match started, and when someone shouted, ‘Come on, Karl Ove,’ a few minutes later I looked across and smiled. It was Vivian, while Andrea was yanking at her jacket to make her stop.

We won 1–0, the mood in the dressing room afterwards was buoyant, everyone was going out for a drink, the majority to Finnsnes, as far as I could glean, and there was no shortage of invitations, but I couldn’t go, Irene was coming.

On the way down to my place I popped into the staffroom and rang Yngve.

‘How’s it going?’ I said.

‘It’s going fine,’ he said.

‘Where’s the letter you promised?’

‘Oh that,’ he said. ‘I’ve had so much to think about recently.’

‘Like what for example?’

‘Like finishing with Kristin.’

‘Is it over ?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

There was a silence.

‘Karl Ove, I’m actually on my way out,’ he said. ‘I’m going to the film club tonight. We can talk later, can’t we?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

We rang off, I donned my jacket, locked the door and left. The sky was grey and a strong wind was blowing off the sea. The tips of the waves in the middle of the fjord were white. I put a ready-made lasagne in the microwave when I returned home, ate it straight from the white plastic packaging and drank a beer with it. I had just opened a second when a car pulled up outside.

That’s probably for me, I thought and got a hard-on. When the bell rang a second later, I stuffed one hand in my pocket to hide it and opened the door.

‘Hi,’ said Irene.

The car hooted its horn and set off down the hill.

‘Hi,’ I said.

She took a step forward and hugged me. I took my hand out of my pocket to reciprocate the hug and held back my groin so that she wouldn’t notice.

‘Nice to see you,’ she said. ‘I’ve been looking forward so much to coming here. I’ve almost been counting the hours!’

‘Me too,’ I said. ‘Come in!’

‘I have to go back tonight after all,’ she said. ‘But that’s ages away. Someone’s going to pick me up at half past eleven. Is that OK?’

‘Of course,’ I said.

I put the beer on the worktop, opened a bottle of white wine and filled two glasses. If this was going to work I would have to drink, and drink something stronger than beer, that much was clear.

‘ Skål ,’ I said, looking into her eyes.

‘ Skål ,’ she said, smiling.

I put on a Chris Isaak record, I had worked all this out in advance, the muted, melancholic yet slightly wild mood fitted perfectly.

She sat down on the sofa. I sat beside her, but not so close. She was wearing the same blouse she’d had on the first time she had been here. I couldn’t see her full breasts underneath, but I sensed their presence as indeed I sensed her thighs under the tight blue jeans.

Oh.

‘That was fun in Finnsnes,’ she said.

‘Yes, it was,’ I said. ‘Are they an item, the two others who were with us?’

‘Eilif and Hilde?’

‘Yes.’

She laughed. ‘No, they’re brother and sister. They’ve always been good pals. This close,’ she said, holding two fingers entwined.

‘Have you got any brothers or sisters?’ I said.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Have you?’

‘Yes, a brother.’

‘Older or younger? No, let me guess. Older?’

‘Yes, how did you know?’

‘You’re not the big brother type.’

I smiled and refilled my glass. Knocked it back in one gulp.

‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a sister too. A half-sister.’

‘Had you forgotten?’

‘She’s just a few days old!’

‘Is she?’

‘Yes, she is. A newborn baby. I haven’t seen her yet. My father remarried.’

Conversation flagged.

We looked at each other and smiled.

The silence continued.

It had to happen now. We had no time to lose. It had to happen now even though I couldn’t feel the wine at all.

‘What do your parents do?’ I said, and cursed myself. A bigger turn-off was hard to imagine.

But she answered politely. ‘Dad’s a fisherman. Mum’s a housewife. And yours?’

‘My dad’s a gymnas teacher, my mum’s a teacher at a nursing college.’

‘And you’re a teacher here!’ she said. ‘Chip off the old block!’

‘I’m not a teacher,’ I said. ‘And I’m not going to be one either.’

‘Don’t you like it?’

‘Yes, I do. But I don’t want to spend my life teaching. I’m doing it for a year to earn money.’

‘How do you want to spend your life then?’

‘I’m going to write. I’m going to be a writer.’

‘Are you? How exciting!’

‘Yes, it is. But I’m not sure I’ll make it.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I mean, of course you will.’ She looked me in the eye.

‘Do you want a bit more wine?’ I said.

She nodded. I filled her glass. She took a sip. Then she got up and walked around the room. Stopped by the desk.

‘So this is where you write,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ I said.

She gazed out of the window.

I emptied my glass in one draught and got up. Went over to her. Smelled the fragrance of her perfume, it was fresh, light, like a meadow.

‘Nice view you’ve got from here,’ she said.

I swallowed and gently wrapped my arms around her. It was as though she had been waiting because she immediately leaned back, I rested my cheek against hers and stroked her stomach, she turned to me, I kissed her.

‘Oh,’ she said, turning round and wrapping her arms around me. We kissed, long and lingering. I pressed against her. I kissed her neck, I kissed her cheek, I kissed her naked arm. My ears were rushing, my chest was pounding.

‘Come on. Let’s go to my bedroom,’ I said, took her hand and led her in. She got onto the bed and lay back, I clambered on top of her. With trembling hands I unbuttoned her blouse, underneath she was wearing a bra, I fumbled around trying to get it off, she laughed, sat up, reached behind her back and undid the hook, let the bra fall, and her breasts were freed. Oh God, how big and beautiful they were. I kissed them, my mind was running wild, first one, then the other, the nipples stiffened in my mouth and she said oh oh and I began to fumble with her trouser buttons, eventually managed to undo them, pulled them off, tore off my own, wrestled my jumper over my head and got on top of her again, felt her skin against mine, she was so wonderfully soft, I pressed against her, as hard as I had ever done before, I rubbed against her, and then, oh no, for Christ’s sake, it can’t be true, not now! Not now!

But it was. A jerk, a spasm and it was all over.

I lay quite still.

‘What’s up?’ she said, looking at me. ‘Something happened?’