Karl Knausgaard - My Struggle - Book Two

‘A simple coffee anecdote,’ he said. ‘Anyone got a better one?’

Vanja stood in the doorway. Her gaze took in the table, and when she had found me, she came over.

‘Do you want to go home?’ I said.

She nodded.

‘Right, do you know what?’ I said. ‘I do too. I’ll just eat this cake first. And drink my coffee. Do you want to sit on my lap in the meantime?’

She nodded again. I lifted her up.

‘Nice you could come, Vanja,’ Frida said to her with a smile from the other side of the table. ‘Soon it’ll be fishing time. You want to join in, don’t you?’

Vanja nodded and Frida turned back to Linus. There was a TV series on Home Box Office she had seen, but he had missed it, and she couldn’t praise it enough.

‘Do you want to?’ I asked. ‘Shall we wait for the fishing game before going?’

Vanja shook her head.

In the game each child was given a little fishing rod which they would cast over a sheet behind which an adult sat waiting to attach a bag containing a prize, some sweets or small toy or the like. In this family they would probably fill it with peas or artichokes, I thought, manoeuvring my fork down past Vanja to my plate, where I cut off a piece with the edge — brown crust under the white cream, yellow inside, with red streaks of jam — twisted my wrist so that the piece of cake remained on the fork, raised it past Vanja, and inserted it in my mouth. The base was too dry, and there was far too little sugar in the cream, but with a mouthful of coffee it wasn’t too bad.

‘Would you like a bit?’ I asked. Vanja nodded. I forked a piece into her open mouth. She looked up and smiled.

‘I can go into the living room with you,’ I said. ‘Then we can see what the others are doing. And maybe join in the fishing game as well?’

‘You said we were going home,’ she said.

‘I did. Let’s be off.’

I placed the fork on the plate, finished off the coffee, put her on the floor and stood up. Looked around. No eyes met mine.

‘We’ll be on our way now,’ I said.

Right then Erik came in with a small bamboo pole in one hand and a plastic Hemköp bag in the other.

‘We’re going to do the fishing now,’ he said.

Some got up to join in, others remained where they were. No one had noticed that I had said goodbye. And since people’s attention around the table had been drawn in different directions now, I saw no need to say it again. Instead I laid my hand on Vanja’s shoulder and led her out. In the living room Erik shouted ‘Fishing!’ and all the children hurried past us to the end of the hall where the cover, a white sheet, hung from wall to wall. Erik, who followed them like a shepherd, told them to sit down. Standing in the hall with Vanja and putting on her jacket, we could see right into the room.

I pulled up the zip on her red bubble jacket, which was already a little tight, set the red Polarn O. Pyret woolly hat on her head and buttoned up the chinstrap, placed her boots in front of her so that she could stick her feet in them herself, and zipped them from the back when she was ready.

‘There we are,’ I said. ‘Now all we have to do is say thank you and we can go. Come on.’

She raised her arms towards me.

‘Can’t you walk?’ I said.

She shook her head, keeping her arms outstretched.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘But first I’ll have to put on my things.’

In the hall Benjamin was the first to ‘fish’. He cast his line, and someone, I suppose Erik, caught it on the other side.

‘I’ve got a bite!’ Benjamin shouted.

The parents standing along the wall smiled, the children on the floor shouted and laughed. The next second Benjamin yanked at his rod, and a red and white Hemköp goodie bag came flying over the sheet, attached by a clothes peg. He removed it and took a few steps away to open the bag in peace and quiet while the next child, Theresa, grabbed the fishing rod, helped by her mother. I wound my scarf round my neck and buttoned up the reefer jacket I had bought on offer last spring at Paul Smith in Stockholm, put on the hat I had bought at the same place, bent down over the pile of shoes by the wall, found mine, a pair of black Wrangler shoes with yellow laces I had bought in Copenhagen when I was at the book fair, and which I had never liked, not even when I bought them, and which furthermore were now tainted by the thought of the catastrophe that had befallen me there, as I had been incapable of answering sensibly a single question the enthusiastic and insightful interviewer had asked me on the stage. The reason I hadn’t thrown them out long ago rested exclusively on the fact that we were hard up. And the laces were so yellow!

I tied them and stood up.

‘I’m ready,’ I said. Vanja stretched out her arms again. I lifted her, walked along the hall and stuck my head into the kitchen where four or five parents were chatting.

‘We’re off now,’ I said. ‘All the best, and thanks for a nice evening.’

‘Thank you ,’ Linus said. Gustav half-raised his hand to his forehead.

Then we went into the hall. I patted Frida’s shoulder to catch her attention. She was standing by the wall, smiling, fully absorbed in the scene on the floor.

‘We’re off now,’ I said. ‘Thank you for inviting us. It was a lovely party. Very nice company.’

‘But doesn’t Vanja want to catch a fish?’ she said.

I made a very expressive kind of grimace, intended to mean something on the lines of ‘You know how illogical children can be.’

‘Right, right,’ she said. ‘Well, thanks for coming. Take care, Vanja!’

Mia, who was standing alongside, with Theresa in front of her, said, ‘Just a moment.’

She leaned over the sheet and asked Erik, who was on his haunches, if he could give her a goodie bag. He certainly could, and she passed it to Vanja.

‘Here, Vanja. You can take this home with you. And perhaps share it with Heidi if you want.’

‘I don’t want,’ Vanja said, holding the bag to her chest.

‘Thank you very much.’ I said. ‘Bye, everyone!’

Stella turned and looked at us.

‘Are you going, Vanja? Why?’

‘Bye, Stella,’ I said. ‘Thanks for inviting us to your party.’

I turned and went. Down the dark stairs, through the hall and onto the pavement. Voices, shouting, footsteps and the noise of engines rose and fell continuously in the street. Vanja wrapped her arms around me and leaned her head against my shoulder. Which she never did usually. This was Heidi’s way.

A taxi swept past with its roof light on. A couple with a buggy passed us; she had a scarf round her head and was young, twenty maybe. A rough complexion I saw as they walked past, her face was thick with powder. He was older, my age, and kept looking around nervously. The buggy was the ridiculous type with a thin stalk-like rod going from the wheels which the basket-seat with the child rested on. Coming towards us from the other side of the road was a gang of youngsters aged fifteen or sixteen. Black combed-back hair, black leather jackets, black trousers, and at least two of them wore Puma trainers with the logo on the toe, which I had always thought looked idiotic. Gold chains around their necks, slightly unsteady, clumsy arm movements.

The shoes.

Shit, they were still up in the flat.

I stopped.

Should I just leave them there?

No, that was too pathetic. We were right outside the door.

‘We have to go back up,’ I said. ‘We’ve forgotten your golden shoes.’

She stiffened.

‘I don’t want them,’ she said.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But we can’t leave them there. We’ll have to take them home with us, and they don’t have to be yours any more.’

I dashed up the stairs again, put Vanja down, opened the door, stepped inside and grabbed the shoes without looking any further into the flat, but could not avoid doing so as I straightened up and met Benjamin’s eyes. He was sitting on the floor in his white shirt with a car in one hand.