‘Did you go to school here?’
‘No, I grew up in Finnsnes.’
‘And now you’re at the tech?’
‘Have you been talking to Hege?’ she said, looking at me.
‘No, no,’ I said. ‘It was a wild guess.’
Then there was silence. I was uneasy and tried to think of something else so that she wouldn’t notice my nerves. If dogs can smell fear, girls can smell nervousness, that was my experience.
From a distance I could see lights in the sitting room. When we went in Nils Erik, Tor Einar and Henning were there. They were playing Nick Cave and drinking what looked like red wine. We sat down on the sofa. It felt as if the party was over, there was no energy in the room, only lifeless eyes and some sipping of wine. Tor Einar tried a couple of times to whip up some atmosphere, but no one was biting, his laughter was met with polite smiles and weary looks.
‘Would you like something to drink?’ I asked Ine. ‘A glass of red wine? Some vodka?’
‘Have you got any beer?’
‘No.’
‘A small vodka then.’
I went into the kitchen, which was freezing cold as usual, and took two glasses from the cupboard, poured a dash of vodka in each and mixed it with 7 Up as I wondered what to do. Perhaps best to wait? They would soon go, and then we would be alone. But if they didn’t, if this dragged on for another half an hour, there would be a good chance she would leave. There was nothing of interest for her here. Could I simply suggest we went up to my bedroom?
No, no, that was the last thing I should do. Then they would be sitting underneath us listening to every movement upstairs, she would know that and refuse, that was no good.
But I had to get her on her own.
Could we go into my study?
With a glass in each hand I went into the sitting room. Put one on the table by Ine, who looked up at me and gave a weak smile.
‘This music is depressing me,’ I said. ‘Can I put something else on?’
‘Be my guest,’ Nils Erik said.
What might she like?
Or should I choose a record I liked, one which might give her a sense of who I was? Hüsker Dü, for example? Or Psychocandy by Jesus and Mary Chain?
‘Any requests?’ I said, crouching by the LPs.
No one answered.
The Smiths maybe?
No, that was too whiny. And something told me she hated whining.
Something hard and masculine. But what?
Did I really not have anything? Was all the music I had fem-inine and whiny?
It would have to be Led Zeppelin.
As the stylus crackled on the first groove I stood up. It was important to keep on the move because if I sat down the inertia in the room would make everything I did from then on conspicuous.
‘Skål!’ I said, reaching out my glass and clinking it against the others, Ine’s last.
‘Come with me,’ I said. ‘I’m going to show you something.’
‘Oh, what?’ she said.
‘It’s in there,’ I said, motioning towards the other end of the sitting room. ‘It’s something I talked about before. Come on!’
She got up, we crossed the floor, I closed the door behind us and there we were, each holding a glass and standing between the towers of books and piles of paper and cardboard boxes.
She looked around. I sat down on the chair.
‘What were you going to show me?’ she said.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘It was just so boring in there. Come and sit over here.’
I held her hand, she sat down on my lap. Then she took the initiative, picked up my hand and studied it. Ran her thumb over my palm.
‘Wow, they’re so soft,’ she said. ‘You’ve never done any manual work in your life, have you.’
‘Not a lot,’ I said.
‘Never used a spade? Or a spanner?’
‘No.’
She shook her head.
‘That’s not good,’ she said. ‘And you bite your nails, I can see. Are you the nervy type?’
‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘And why was I to go home with you, did you say?’
I sat there with a hard-on, not knowing what to say.
She leaned forward and opened her mouth. We kissed. I stroked her back, then I held her tight and pulled her to me, hard, she was so lovely, and she moved her head away.
She stroked my cheek.
‘You’re nice,’ she said.
Her dark eyes lit up as she smiled.
We kissed again.
Then she got up.
‘I have to go,’ she said.
‘No. You can’t,’ I said. ‘Not now.’
‘Yes, I can. But I’m here tomorrow too. Pop round if you like. I’ll be at mum’s.’
She opened the door, I accompanied her to the hall, she put on her jacket and went out, turned briefly and said bye, disappeared down the road.
Leaving her bag behind.
The next day, well, what was on my mind the next day?
Ine.
A miracle had taken place. In my room, last night, a miracle.
Ine, Ine, Ine.
But I put off the visit. The night before I had been drunk, everything took its own course. Now I was sober and could lose everything.
It was three o’clock before I dared venture out and set off on the long road there.
Her mother, an elderly woman with white hair, opened the door.
‘Is Ine at home?’ I asked.
‘Yes, she is,’ she said. ‘She’s in the living room. Come inside.’
Ine in the living room, that was quite different from Ine at a party. She was wearing grey jogging pants and a white T-shirt with a picture of a motorbike on. Her hair was pinned up. She smiled when she saw me, jumped to her feet and asked if I wanted some coffee.
‘Yes, please.’
She fetched a cup and placed a white Thermos on the table next to me.
I grabbed it and tried to unscrew the top. But my palms were too sweaty. My hand slipped round without gaining any purchase. When I applied all my strength it budged a little, but by then I had used all my strength and had none left to turn it.
She watched me.
I blushed.
‘Shall I give you a hand?’ she said.
I nodded.
‘My hands are so slippery,’ I said.
She came over and unscrewed the top with ease.
‘There we are,’ she said and sat back down.
I poured the coffee, took a sip.
So far I hadn’t said a word.
‘When are you going back? Tonight?’
She nodded. Her mother came in behind me.
‘You work with Hege, don’t you?’ her mother said.
‘Yes.’
‘Hege really likes you,’ Ine said. ‘She talks about you a lot anyway.’
‘Is that right?’ I said.
‘It is,’ she said.
What was this? What was I doing here? Were we going to make small talk? How wrong was that? Wrong, wrong, wrong!
‘Where do you live in Finnsnes?’ I said.
‘Right behind the bank.’
‘Renting somewhere?’
She nodded.
‘Do you like Håfjord?’ her mother asked.
‘Yes, I like it a lot,’ I said. ‘I’m having a great time here.’
‘Yes, it’s a fine little place,’ her mother said.
‘Mum!’ Ine said. ‘You’re boring him.’
Her mother smiled and got up.
‘OK, OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you two in peace.’
She left the room. Ine drummed her fingers on the table.
‘Can I meet you again?’ I said.
‘You’re meeting me now,’ she said.
‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘But I meant in a different way. We could have dinner together or something like that. What do you think?’
‘Maybe,’ she said.
She looked fantastic sitting there. A red-faced sweaty boy was the last thing she needed in her life.