Jon Fosse
Aliss at the Fire
I see Signe lying there on the bench in the room and she’s looking at all the usual things, the old table, the stove, the woodbox, the old paneling on the walls, the big window facing out onto the fjord, she looks at it all without seeing it and everything is as it was before, nothing has changed, but still, everything’s different, she thinks, because since he disappeared and stayed gone nothing is the same anymore, she is just there without being there, the days come, the days go, nights come, nights go, and she goes along with them, moving slowly, without letting anything leave much of a trace or make much of a difference, and does she know what day it is today? she thinks, yes well it must be Thursday, and it’s March, and the year is 2002, yes, she knows that much, but what the date is and so on, no, she doesn’t get that far, and anyway why should she bother? what does it matter anyway? she thinks, no matter what she can still be safe and solid in herself, the way she was before he disappeared, but then it comes back to her, how he disappeared, that Tuesday, in late November, in 1979, and all at once she is back in the emptiness, she thinks, and she looks at the hall door and then it opens and then she sees herself come in and shut the door behind her and then she sees herself walk into the room, stop and stand there and look at the window and then she sees herself see him standing in front of the window and she sees, standing there in the room, that he is standing and looking out into the darkness, with his long black hair, and in his black sweater, the sweater she knit herself and that he almost always wears when it’s cold, he is standing there, she thinks, and he is almost at one with the darkness outside, she thinks, yes he is so at one with the darkness that when she opened the door and looked in she didn’t notice at first that he was standing there, even though she knew, without thinking it, without saying it to herself, she knew in a way that he’d be standing there like that, she thinks, and that his black sweater and the darkness outside the window would be almost one, he is the darkness, the darkness is him, but still that’s how it is, she thinks, it’s almost as though when she came in and saw him standing there she saw something unexpected, and that’s what’s really strange, because he stands there like that all the time, there in front of the window, it’s just that she usually doesn’t see it, she thinks, or that she sees it but doesn’t notice it somehow, because it’s also that his standing there has become a kind of habit, like most anything else, it has become something that just is, around her, but now, this time, when she came into the room she saw him standing there, she saw his black hair, and then the black sweater, and now he just stands there and looks out into the darkness and why is he doing that? she thinks, why is he just standing there like that? if there was anything to see out the window now she could probably understand it but there isn’t anything to see, nothing, just darkness, this heavy almost black darkness, and then, maybe, a car might come by, and then the light from the car’s headlights might light up a stretch of the road, but then again not many cars come driving by and that’s just how she wanted it, she wanted to live somewhere where no one else lived, where she and he, Signe and Asle, were as alone as possible, somewhere everyone else had left, somewhere where spring is spring, fall is fall, winter is winter, where summer is summer, she wanted to live somewhere like that, she thinks, but now, when the only thing to see is darkness, why would he just stand there looking out into the darkness? why does he do that? why does he just stand there like that all the time, when there’s nothing to see? she thinks, and if only it was spring now, she thinks, if only spring would come now, with its light, with warmer days, with little flowers in the meadows, with trees putting out buds, and leaves, because this darkness, this endless darkness all the time now, she can’t stand it, she thinks, and she has to say something to him, something, she thinks, and then it’s as if nothing is what it was, she thinks, and she looks around the room and yes everything is what it was, nothing is different, why does she think that, that something is different? she thinks, why should anything be different? why would she think something like that? that anything could really be different? she thinks, because there he is standing in front of the window, almost impossible to separate from the darkness outside, but what has been wrong with him lately? has something happened? has he changed? why has he gotten so quiet? but, yes, quiet, yes, he was always a quiet type, she thinks, whatever else you can say about him he’s always been quiet, so that’s nothing out of the ordinary after all, it’s, it’s just how he is, that’s just the way he acts, that’s just how it is, she thinks, and now if only he could turn around and face her, just say something to her, she thinks, anything, just say anything, but he keeps standing there as if he never even noticed her come in
There you are, Signe says
and he turns to her and she sees that the darkness is also in his eyes
I guess I am, yes, Asle says
There’s not much to look at out there, Signe says
No nothing, Asle says
and he smiles at her
No just darkness, Signe says
Just darkness yes, Asle says
Then what are you looking at, Signe says
I don’t know what I’m looking at, Asle says
But you’re standing there in front of the window, Signe says
I am, Asle says
But you’re not looking at anything, Signe says
No, Asle says
But why are you standing there then, Signe says
Yes I mean, she says
Yes are you thinking about something, she says
I’m not thinking about anything, Asle says
But what are you looking at, Signe says
I’m not looking at anything, Asle says
You don’t know, Signe says
No, Asle says
You’re just standing there, Signe says
Yes I’m just standing here, Asle says
Yes you are, Signe says
Does it bother you, Asle says
It’s not that, Signe says
But why are you asking, Asle says
I was just asking, Signe says
Yes, Asle says
I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just asking, Signe says
Yes, Asle says
I’m just standing here, yes, he says
A lot of times when someone says something they don’t really mean anything by it, probably, he says
Probably almost never, he says
They just say something, just to say something, that’s true, Signe says
That’s what it’s like, yes, Asle says
They have to say something, Signe says
They have to, Asle says
That’s how it is, he says
and she sees him stand there and sort of not entirely know what to do with himself and then he raises one hand and lowers it again and then he raises his other hand, holds it halfway in front of him, and then raises the first hand again
What are you thinking about, Signe says
No nothing special, Asle says
No, Signe says
I guess I, Asle says
Yes I, he says
and he stands there and he looks at her
I, he says
I, I, yes well, I’ll just, he says
You, Signe says
Yes, Asle says
You’ll, Signe says
I, Asle says
I guess I’ll go out onto the fjord for a while, he says
Today too, Signe says
I think so, Asle says
and he turns back to the window and again she sees him stand there and be almost impossible to separate from the darkness outside and again she sees his black hair in front of the window and she sees his sweater become one with the darkness outside
Today too, Signe says
and he doesn’t answer and today he’ll row out onto the fjord again, she thinks, but the wind is really blowing, and it probably won’t be long before it starts to rain, but does he care about that, whatever the weather is he goes out in his little boat, a small rowboat, a wooden boat, she thinks, and what’s so nice about rowing out on the fjord in a little boat like that? it must be freezing cold, and the fjord just there, with its water, its waves, maybe there might be something nice about it in the summer, rowing out on the fjord when the fjord is sparkling blue, when it glitters all blue, then maybe it’s tempting, when the sun is shining on the fjord and the water is calm and everything is blue upon blue, but now, in darkest autumn, when the fjord is gray and black and colorless and it’s cold and the waves are high and rough, not to mention in winter when there’s snow and ice on the seats of the boat and you have to kick at the rigging to get it loose, get it free of the ice, if you want to free the boat from its moorings, and when snow-covered ice floes are floating on the fjord, why then? what’s the appeal of the fjord then? no she just doesn’t understand it, she thinks, to put it bluntly, she thinks, she doesn’t get it at all, it is a total mystery to her, and if it was only every now and then that he went out onto the fjord, to fish maybe, to set out nets or something, but no, every single day he rows out onto the fjord, sometimes twice a day, in the dark, in the rain, in rough water, every month of the year, does he not want to be with her? is that why he always wants to go out onto the fjord? she thinks, what other reason could there be really? and hasn’t he changed recently, he is so rarely happy now, almost never, and he is so shy, he really is, he doesn’t want to see people and he turns away if anyone does come and if it ever happens that he does have to talk to someone he stands there and doesn’t know what to do with his hands, doesn’t know what to say, he stands there and feels sick with embarrassment, everybody can see it, she thinks, and what is the matter with him? she thinks, he was always a little like that, a little withdrawn, a little as if he thought of himself as always being a lot of trouble for other people, as upsetting other people just by being there, as a nuisance, an obstacle to what this or that other person wanted, as if he didn’t understand, and it’s getting worse and worse, before he could at least be around other people but now not anymore, now he goes off to be by himself the second anyone other than her appears