‘Karl Ove?’ someone said. I looked up.
There she was.
I turned the pad over.
How was that possible?
‘Hi, Linda,’ I said. ‘Thanks for the tea yesterday.’
‘It was nice to see you. I’m here with a friend. Would you prefer to be on your own?’
‘Yes, if you don’t mind. I’m working, you see.’
‘Of course, I understand.’
We looked at each other. I nodded.
A woman of her age came out holding two cups. Linda turned to her, they went off to the other end and sat down.
I wrote that she had just sat down at the back.
If only I could bridge this distance, I wrote. I would give everything in the world for that. But I can’t. I love you, and perhaps you think you love me, but you don’t. I believe you like me, I’m fairly sure of that, but I’m not enough for you, and you know that deepest down. Perhaps you need someone now, and then along I came, and you thought, well he might do. But I don’t want to be someone who might do, that’s not good enough for me, it has to be all or nothing, you have to be ablaze, the way I am ablaze. To want the way I want. Do you understand? Oh, I know you do. I have seen how strong you can be, I have seen how weak you can be and I have seen you open up to the world. I love you, but that isn’t enough. Being friends is meaningless. I can’t even talk to you! What kind of friendship would that be? I hope you don’t take this amiss. I’m just trying to say it as it is. I love you. That is how it is. And somewhere I always will, regardless of what happens to us.
I signed my name, got up, glanced at them, only the girlfriend was in a position to see me, and she didn’t know who I was, so I escaped unnoticed, hastened home, tucked the letter into an envelope, changed into running gear and did my route round Söder.
Over the next days it was as though the speed I had within me increased. I ran, I swam, I did everything I could to keep my unease, which consisted of as much happiness as sorrow, at bay, but I failed, I was shaking with an agitation that never seemed to abate, I went on endless walks around the town, ran, swam, lay awake at night, couldn’t eat. I had said no, it was over, it would ease.
The reading was on a Saturday, and by the time it arrived I had decided not to go. I rang Geir to see if he wanted to meet me in town, he did, four o’clock at KB, we agreed, I ran to Eriksdal Baths, swam for more than an hour, to and fro in the outdoor pool, it was wonderful, the air was cold, the water warm, the sky grey with light rain, and not a soul around. Up and down I swam. When I got out I was hot with exhaustion. I changed, stood outside for a while smoking, then made a move towards the centre with my bag over my shoulder.
Geir wasn’t there when I arrived. I sat down at a window table and ordered a beer. A few minutes later he was in front of me and holding out his hand.
‘Anything new?’ he asked, sitting down.
‘Yes and no,’ I said, and told him what had happened over recent days.
‘You always have to be so dramatic,’ he said. ‘Can’t you calm down a bit? It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘In this particular case it’s exactly that.’
‘Have you sent the letter?’
‘No. Not yet.’
At that moment I received a text message. It was from Linda.
‘Didn’t see you at the reading. Were you there?’
I started to answer.
‘Can’t you do that afterwards?’ Geir said.
‘No,’ I said.
‘Couldn’t make it. Did it go well?’
I sent the message and raised my glass to Geir.
‘Skål,’ I said.
‘Skål,’ he said.
Another message.
‘Missed you. Where are you now?’
Missed me?
My heart pounded in my chest. I started a new answer.
‘Pack it in,’ Geir said. ‘If you don’t, I’m off.’
‘I’ll be quick,’ I said. ‘Hang on.’
‘I miss you too. I’m at KB.’
‘It’s Linda, isn’t it,’ Geir said.
‘It is,’ I answered.
‘You’re all over the place,’ he said. ‘Do you realise? I almost felt like turning round in the door when I saw you.’
New message.
‘You come to me, Karl Ove. At Folkoperan. Waiting.’
I got up.
‘Sorry, Geir, but I’ve got to go.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Come on, man. Surely she can bloody well wait half an hour? I caught the Metro all the way here, and I didn’t do that to sit and have a drink on my own. I can do that at home.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ll call you.’
I ran into the street, flagged down a taxi, could have screamed with impatience at the lights, but then it pulled over by Folkoperan, I paid and went in.
She was sitting on the ground floor. As soon as I saw her I knew there was no hurry.
She smiled.
‘How quick you were!’ she said.
‘I had the impression it was urgent.’
‘No, no, no, not at all.’
I gave her a hug and sat down.
‘Do you want a drink?’ I asked.
‘What are you going to have?’
‘I don’t know. Red wine?’
‘That sounds good.’
We shared a bottle of red, chatted about this and that, nothing of any significance, it was all between us, every time our eyes met a quiver ran through me, and then there was a heavy thud, that was my heart.
‘There’s a party at Vertigo now,’ she said. ‘Feel like coming along?’
‘OK, sounds good.’
‘Stig Sæterbakken’s there.’
‘That’s perhaps not so good. I panned him once. And then I read an interview in which he said he had kept all the reviews which had panned him. The one I wrote must be one of the worst. A whole page in Morgenbladet. And then he went after me and Tore in a debate once. Called us Faldbakken and Faldbakken. But I don’t suppose that means much to you.’
She shook her head.
‘We can go somewhere else?’
‘No, no, God, no. Let’s go to the party.’
As we left Folkoperan it had started to grow dark. The cloud cover that had been there all day was thickening.
We caught a taxi. Vertigo was situated in a cellar, it was jam-packed, the air was hot and dense with smoke, I turned to Linda and said perhaps we didn’t need to stay so long.
‘Isn’t that Knausgaard?’ a voice said. I turned. It was Sæterbakken. He smiled. ‘Knausgaard and I are foes,’ he said, and added, ‘aren’t we?’ with a look up at me.
‘I’m not,’ I said.
‘Don’t chicken out now,’ he said. ‘But you’re right. We’ve put it behind us. I’m writing a new novel, and I’m trying to do as you’ve done. Write a bit more in your style.’
Jesus, I thought. That was quite a compliment!
‘You don’t say,’ I said. ‘Sounds interesting.’
‘Yes, it is very interesting. You wait and see!’
‘Talk to you later,’ I said.
‘Right.’
We went to the bar, ordered gin and tonics, found two unoccupied chairs and sat down. Linda knew lots of people here, mingled and kept coming back to me. I became more and more drunk, but the congenial, relaxed mood I had when I saw Linda at Folkoperan continued. We looked at each other. We were a couple. She placed her hand on my shoulder. We were a couple. She met my gaze through the room in the middle of a conversation with someone and smiled. We were a couple.