Karl Knausgaard - My Struggle - Book Three

The little metal part holding the handlebars in position had a very different, and much brighter, gleam than the metal around it. Surely Dad couldn’t help but notice?

I opened the door and went in. If Dad met me I would just hang up my jacket as normal. If he stayed in his study or in the living room, I would go upstairs wearing my jacket, hide the candy in my room, and then go back down with the empty jacket. If he met me then and asked why I was still wearing my jacket I would say I’d had to go to the toilet urgently.

The house was quiet.

There he was. Upstairs in the living room.

I carefully removed my shoes and walked through the hall, up the stairs, and into the bathroom. Opened my fly, wriggled out the wiener, and peed. Pulled the chain, washed my hands in cold water, dried them, and waited for the flush to stop before I opened the door. Cast a fleeting glance into the living room, nothing, went into my room, pulled the duvet aside, emptied my pockets of all the candy, covered them again, and went onto the landing.

“Karl Ove, is that you?” Dad said from the living room.

“Yes,” I said.

He came out.

“Where have you been?” he said.

“Gamle Tybakken with Geir,” I said.

“What were you doing there?”

His mouth was a straight line. His eyes were cold.

“Nothing much,” I said, so happy my voice held firm. “Walking around, that was all.”

“Why are you wearing your jacket?”

“I had to go to the bathroom. I’ll take it off now.”

I continued down the stairs. He went back to the living room. I hung up my jacket and quickly returned, unhappy at the thought that all that candy was lying there unprotected. Switched on the small, round metal lamp on the desk. The long, slim bulb filled the empty space it resided in with its yellow light. Sat down on the bed. Straightened the duvet over the candy.

What now?

Contrasting feelings coursed through me. One minute I was on the verge of tears, the next my chest was bursting with happiness.

I took out a book about space Dad had had as a child and which I had been allowed to borrow the previous time I was ill. It was crammed with drawings of how space travel would be in the future. Astronauts’ equipment, the shape of rockets, and the surfaces of planets.

Dad strode along the landing.

He opened the door and eyed me. Without making a move to come in or say anything.

I closed the book and sat up straight. Glanced in the direction of the candy.

It was impossible to see there was anything underneath the duvet.

“What have you got there?” Dad said.

“Where?” I said. “What do you mean? I haven’t got anything.”

“Under the duvet,” Dad said.

“I haven’t got anything under the duvet!”

He eyed me again.

Then he walked over to the bed and tore the duvet aside.

“You’re lying to me!” he said. “Are you lying to your own father?”

He grabbed my ear and twisted it round.

“I didn’t mean to!” I said.

“Where did you get the candy? Where did you get the money to buy them?”

“An old lady gave it to me!” I said, starting to cry. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“An old lady?” Dad said. He twisted harder. “Why would an old lady give you money?”

“Ow! Ow!” I yelled.

“Be quiet!” he said. “You lied to me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean to!”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you. Did you lie?”

I raised my head and looked at him. His eyes were smoldering with anger.

“Yes,” I said.

“So now you tell me where you got the money from. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I got it from an old lady! We did her a favor!”

“Who?”

“Geir and I and A —”

“You and Geir and who?”

“No one. Just me and Geir.”

“You little liar. Just you come here.”

He twisted my ear around again while pulling my hand and forcing me to stand up. I gasped and sobbed and my insides went hollow.

“Down to my study,” he said, without letting go of my ear.

“I … haven’t … done … anything … wrong,” I said. “We … were … given … the money.”

He pushed open the first door so hard that it slammed against the wall. Dragged me in through the second and onto the floor. Then he let go.

“How did you get the money?” he said. “And don’t you tell me any lies!”

“We helped … an old lady.”

“To do what?”

“There was … a tree. A tree … stuck in a stream. We pulled … it out.”

“And she gave you money for that?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Five kroner.”

“You’re lying, Karl Ove. Where did you get the money from?”

“I AM NOT LYING!” I yelled.

His hand shot out and slapped me on the cheek.

“Do not shout!” he hissed.

He stood up.

“But there is a way to find out,” he said. “I’ll ring the old lady and ask her if it’s true.”

He looked me in the eye as he said it.

“Where does she live?”

“In … Gamle Ty … bakken,” I said.

Dad went to the telephone on his desk, lifted the receiver, and dialed a number. Held the receiver to his ear.

“Oh, hello,” he said. “My name’s Knausgård. I’m ringing about my son. He says you gave him five kroner today. Is that correct?”

There was a pause.

“You didn’t? You didn’t have two boys helping you today? You didn’t give them five kroner? Oh yes, I see. I apologize for the intrusion. Thank you very much. Goodbye.”

He cradled the receiver.

I couldn’t believe my own ears.

He looked at me.

“She hasn’t seen any boys. And she definitely didn’t give anyone five kroner.”

“But it’s true. We were given five kroner.”

He shook his head.

“That’s not what she said. So. That’s enough lying. Where did you get the money from?”

Another deluge of tears swept through me.

“From … the … old … lady!” I sobbed.

Dad stared at me.

“We’re not going to get any further with this,” he said. “Now you go and throw the candy in the bin. And you stay in your room for the rest of the evening. Then I’ll have a chat with Prestbakmo in a bit.”

“But they’re not mine!” I said.

“They’re not yours? You’ve told me you were given five kroner? Wasn’t it your money after all?”

“It’s Geir’s as well,” I said. “I can’t throw the candy away.”

Dad stared at me with his mouth agape and a furious glare.

“You do as I say,” he said at length. “Now I don’t want to hear a single word more from you. Have you got that? You steal, you lie, and on top of all that you talk back! So. Get up there.”

With him right behind me, I gathered up all the candy in my hands, threw them in the kitchen trash can, and went back to my room.

That autumn and winter we went up to see Anne Lisbet and Solveig as often as we could. We stumbled around playing in the darkness, our rain gear glistening with rain in the gleam of our flashlights, which shone narrow tunnels of light into the forest below their houses, we sat in one of their bedrooms drawing and listening to music, we went to the boat factory and the big quay there, up the hill behind, where none of us had been before, and we went down into the forest below the bridge next to the immense concrete foundations.

One Saturday we wandered down to the secret dumping ground. They were just as eager as we had been, and Geir and I dragged four chairs and a table, a lamp, and a chest of drawers into the trees, we arranged them as if we were in a living room, and it was absolutely fantastic because we were outside in the forest, in the sunlight, yet inside a living room, and we were there with Solveig and Anne Lisbet.