Karl Knausgaard - Some Rain Must Fall

‘Have you thought about Kafkatrakterne at all?’

‘Yes, I’ve written some lyrics.’

‘Have you got them with you?’

‘As it happens, I have,’ I said and took them from my back pocket. Yngve unfolded the sheet and read it.

‘Very good,’ he said. ‘Two more songs and we’ve got a whole set for New Year’s Eve.’

We chatted about it for a while, then there was silence. Yngve glanced around, a few more people had trickled in since he came, but there were still big empty spaces.

‘Shall we go to Christian?’ he said. ‘There might be a few more people there.’

‘Can do,’ I said.

As we walked he said that Sunday was the day everyone who worked in bars and restaurants hit the town and that Christian was the place where most of them hung out. We paid, sat at a table close to the dance floor, he brought back a couple of gin and tonics, I drank it as if it were juice. One more, and one more.

We got into conversation with two women, one was nice with crooked teeth and reddish hair, maybe thirty, she worked at the Post Office, she told me, and she laughed every time I made a comment to her. I was much too young, she said, besides she had a boyfriend, he was big and strong and jealous, she added, although that didn’t frighten me, I was attracted by her laughter. But they eventually got up to go, and Yngve held me back when I wanted to go after them.

Death was in there too, the whole room we were sitting in was dead, and everything in it, apart from those dancing. They were dancing in the realm of death, I thought. They were dancing in the realm of death, they were dancing in the realm of death.

We drank more, we even got on the dance floor for some songs, otherwise we chatted about the band, how exciting it was becoming and what the chances were if we made a go of it. I said I would rather play in a band than write. Yngve sent me a look of surprise, he hadn’t expected this. But it was true. Writing was a defeat, it was a humiliation, it was coming face to face with yourself and seeing you weren’t good enough. Playing in a band was quite different, that was giving yourself utterly, together with a few other people, and letting things develop from there. I was a lousy drummer, yet despite that something had developed around us a few times, suddenly we were in midstream, it swung, we weren’t controlling it, we went with the flow, and that feeling of finding yourself in the middle was enormously pleasurable.

I had a tingling sensation running down my spine and I was smiling. The moment soared and soared, and then it was over. In the next song we were back to where none of the instruments and riffs and drumbeats blended in.

‘We’ve just got to go for it,’ I said to Yngve that night. ‘That’s what we need to do. No safety net. Give up our studies and play music full time. Practise every day for two years. Shit, how great would that be!’

‘Yes, but we’ll never get Hans and Pål on board.’

‘No, but that’s what we have to do. That’s the only way!’

At that juncture I was seriously drunk, but as always there were few outer signs, I didn’t stagger when I walked, I didn’t slur my words when I spoke. But inside me there was no doubt, I had started following every impulse I felt and scorned any objections that arose. So when they closed Christian and we went down to Slakteriet to squeeze the last seconds out of the evening there was only one goal I had in mind: a girl I could go home with or who would come home with me.

We sat down at a table, some girls looked at us, I caught sight of them in the corner of my eye and turned, met the gaze of a girl with big lips and shining eyes, she smiled when our eyes met, and I got a hard-on. She was plump and no one would have called her beautiful, but what did it matter, all I wanted was a roll around on a bed with her somewhere.

I looked at her a couple more times, always brief glances, just to check if she was up for it, and she was. After a while she came over and asked if they could sit at our table. I let Yngve answer, he said yes, of course, take a seat. We’re on our way home now but …

‘Are you?’ she said.

‘Yes, soon,’ he said.

She sent me a teasing glance.

‘You too?’

‘It depends,’ I said. My voice was almost choking with excitement.

‘Depends on what?’ she said.

‘Well, if anything special was going to happen.’

‘Special?’ she said.

My heart was pounding wildly because her eyes were begging me, she wanted it too.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘What for example?’

‘Well, a party for example. Where do you live?’

‘In Nøstet. But there’s no party.’

‘Oh,’ I said.

‘Where do you live then?’

‘In Danmarksplass,’ I said, lighting a cigarette.

‘Oh, right over there,’ she said. ‘Do you live alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you going to have a party there?’ she said.

Yngve eyed me.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said.

‘You’ve got to take grandad to hospital tomorrow, remember,’ Yngve said.

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll be on my way soon.’

Then Yngve got up to go to the toilet.

‘Can I have a little chat with you?’ I said. ‘Outside? I’m going now. I want to say something to you in private.’

‘What could that be?’ she said and smiled. Looked at her friend, who was chatting to a guy crouching down in front of her chair.

I stood up, she stood up.

‘Come home with me,’ I said. ‘Would you like to?’

‘Yes, it might be interesting,’ she said.

‘Let’s take a taxi,’ I said. ‘Now.’

She nodded, put on her jacket, hung her bag over her shoulder.

‘I’m off,’ she said to her friend. ‘Talk tomorrow, OK?’

Her friend nodded, we left, a taxi came down the cobbled street, I waved a hand and thirty seconds later we were on our way through the town.

‘What about your brother?’ she said.

‘He’ll be all right,’ I said, putting my hand on her thigh.

Jesus.

I swallowed, ran my hand up her thigh as far as it could go, she smiled, I leaned over and kissed her. She put her arms around me. She smelled of perfume and her body was heavy against mine. I wanted her so much I didn’t know what to do in the taxi, minutes away from my flat now, and the bed.

I wriggled my hand in under her jacket, stroked one breast. She kissed my ear. Her breathing was heavy.

Across Danmarksplass.

‘Left here,’ I said to the driver. ‘And then left again. Second door.’

I pulled out a hundred-krone note from my pocket, gave it to him when he stopped, scrambled out, grabbed her hand and dragged her to the front entrance. She laughed. We tumbled up the stairs with our arms around each other, I clung to her as hard as I could, unlocked the door and in the bedroom, where we were only seconds later, I first pulled off her jumper, then undid her bra, unbuttoned her trousers, slipped down the zip and pulled them off. She was wearing black panties, I pressed my face against them as I wrapped my arms around her legs. She fell back, I pulled down her panties as well and pressed my face against her again and then, yes, then we did what I had pictured we would do when our eyes met.

The instant I woke I knew what I had done and was filled with horror.

She was sleeping peacefully at my side.

I had to save whatever could be saved. I couldn’t take any account of her.

I woke her up.

‘You’ve got to go,’ I said. ‘And you mustn’t say anything about this to anyone. If I meet you in town you must act as if nothing happened. I have a girlfriend, you see. What happened should never have happened.’

She sat up.

‘You said nothing about that,’ she said, raising her arms to do her bra up at the back.