Dancing in the Dark: My Struggle Book 4 (16 page)

On the other hand, I was also proud: occasionally getting so drunk that I couldn’t remember a thing was cool.

At that time, I was sixteen that summer, there were only three things I wanted. The first was a girlfriend. The second was to sleep with a girl. The third was to get drunk.

Or, if I am being totally honest, there were only two things: sleeping with a girl and getting drunk. I had loads of other interests, I was full of ambition in all sorts of areas: I liked reading, listening to music, playing the guitar, watching films, playing football, swimming and snorkelling, travelling abroad, having money and buying myself bits of equipment, but in effect all that was about having a good time, about spending my time in the most agreeable fashion possible, and that was fine, all of it, but when it came to the crunch there were only two things I
really
wanted.

No, when it
actually
came to the crunch, there was only one.

I wanted to sleep with a girl.

That was the only thing I wanted.

A fire burned inside me, one that never went out. Even when I was asleep, it flared up, a glimpse of a breast in a dream was all I needed and I came.

Oh no, not again, I thought every time I woke with underpants sticking to my skin and my pubic hair. Mum washed my clothes and at first I always rinsed them thoroughly before putting them in the laundry basket, but there was something suspicious about that too. What are all these sopping wet underpants doing here? she must have thought, and after a while I stopped and put the semen-drenched underpants, which after a few hours became stiff, as if permeated with salt flakes or something, in the basket, and even though she must have noticed, because it happened at least two, often three, times a week, I dismissed the thought of her bemusement as I replaced the laundry basket lid. She never mentioned it, I never mentioned it, and that was how it was with so much, and probably had to be, in the house where she and I lived alone: some things were said, commented on, pored over, and attempts were made to understand them; others were not articulated, not mentioned, and no attempts were made to understand them.

My urges were strong, but they rumbled in the empty rooms of ignorance, where what happened simply happened. Naturally I could have asked Yngve for advice, after all he was four years older and had endlessly more experience. He had done it, I knew that. I hadn’t done it. So why didn’t I ask him for advice?

It was unthinkable. It belonged to the realm of the unthinkable. Why, I didn’t know, but it did. Besides, what good would advice do? It would be like receiving advice on how to conquer Mount Everest. Yeah, well, you go to the right there, see, and then you carry straight on up and there you are.

I would have given absolutely anything to sleep with a girl. Any girl actually. Whether it happened with someone I loved, like Hanne, or with a prostitute, made no difference, if it happened as part of a satanic initiation ceremony with goat’s blood and hoods I would have said, yes, I’m up for that. But it wasn’t something you were given, it was something you took. Exactly how, I didn’t know, and then it became a vicious circle, for not knowing made me unsure of myself, and if there was one thing that disqualified you, one thing they didn’t want, it was a lack of self-assurance. That much I had understood. You had to be confident, determined, convincing. But how to get to that position? How in God’s name could you do that? How did you go from standing in front of a girl in full daylight, with all her clothes on, to sleeping with her in the darkness a few hours later? There was a chasm between these two states. When I saw a girl standing in front of me in full daylight there was a bottomless chasm between us. If I stepped off the edge I would fall. What else? Because she wouldn’t come halfway, she could see I was frightened, she would withdraw, retreat into herself or turn to someone else. But actually, I thought, actually the distance between the two states was very
short
. It was just a question of lifting her T-shirt over her head, unfastening her bra, unbuttoning her trousers, pulling them off – and then she was naked. It would take twenty seconds, maybe thirty.

There was nothing more deceptive in existence. Walking around, knowing that I was approximately thirty seconds away from all I ever wanted, separated only by a chasm, was driving me insane. Quite often I caught myself wishing we were still in the Stone Age, then all I needed to do was go out with a club, hit the nearest woman on the head and drag her home to do whatever I wanted. But it was no good, there were no short cuts, the thirty seconds were an illusion, as almost everything concerning women was an illusion. Oh what a mockery that they were accessible to the eye but in no other way. That everywhere you turned there were women and girls. That everywhere you turned there were breasts under blouses, thighs and hips under trousers, beautiful smiling faces, hair blowing in the wind. Pendulous breasts, firm breasts, round breasts, bouncing breasts, white breasts, tanned breasts . . . a naked wrist, a naked elbow, a naked cheek, a naked eye looking around. A naked thigh in shorts or a short summer dress. A naked palm, a naked nose, a naked neck. I saw all this around me constantly, there were girls everywhere, the supply was infinite, a well, no, I was drifting in an
ocean
of women, I saw several hundred of them every day, all with their own individual ways of moving, standing, turning, walking, holding and twisting their heads, blinking, looking – take for example a feature such as their eyes, which expressed their utter uniqueness, everything that lived and breathed was here in this one person, was revealed, regardless of whether the gaze was meant for me or not. Oh, those sparkling eyes! Oh, those dark eyes! Oh, that glint of happiness! The alluring darkness! Or, for that matter, the unintelligent, the stupid eyes! For in them too there was an appeal, and no small appeal either: the stupid vacant eyes, the open mouth in that perfect beautiful body.

All this was never far from my mind, and all of them were thirty seconds away from the only thing I wanted – but on the other side of a chasm.

I cursed this chasm. I cursed myself. But no matter how frustrating this was, no matter how depressing this became, women shone with undiminished radiance.

Then a chance presented itself.

Some weeks after the dismal Midsummer Night party I travelled with the football team to Denmark. The town we were going to was called Nykøbing, on the island of Mors in the Limfjord. We stayed in a kind of hostel, perhaps it was a boarding school, just outside the town, surrounded by large pitches bordered by shady old deciduous trees. In the evenings some of us sneaked out, it wasn’t allowed, but the town wasn’t far away and as long as we didn’t miss the training sessions a blind eye was turned, if indeed our absence was noticed at all. We bought cheap plonk from the supermarkets, sat outside on the benches drinking and went to the nearby discotheque. On the second evening I met a Danish girl, and we got together every day for the rest of the time we were there. She was sweet and lively and intense, we sat on the benches and snogged, danced in the disco, one night we went for a walk in the park, and on the final evening I thought, now’s the time, I wouldn’t have another opportunity, it was tonight or never.

On our last night everyone was outdoors; we started with a barbecue on the beach, the group leaders had bought beer, and when that was finished we took a taxi to a big restaurant in a forest not so far from where we were staying. She was coming, she had said, and she did too, greeted me in the same warm way she usually did, stretching up on her toes, giving me a kiss and grasping my hand. We sat down at a table, I was knocking back the wine to summon up the courage for what I was about to attempt. In the bar I confided my intentions to Jøgge and Bjørn, told them I was going to try to get her into our room and fuck her. They smiled, wished me luck. It was a wonderful evening, outside the greyish-black clouds hung heavily over the green trees, inside under the glittering chandeliers people mingled, they drank and laughed and danced, there was a smell of sweat and perfume, cigarette smoke and alcohol, she sat at our table and talked to Harald, but kept looking in my direction and she lit up when she saw me coming with another bottle of wine in my hand. My stomach ached as I sat down next to her. She leaned forward, we kissed, I was about to pour wine in her glass, she held up a palm, she had to work the following day. She had a sudden idea: did I want to go back to hers? But we’re leaving tomorrow, I said. No, she said, no, you’re not. You’re never going home, you’re staying here with me. You can go to school here! Or find a job! What do you say to that? Fine, I said, that’s what we’ll do.

We laughed and a wave of anguish washed through me: soon we would be in my room, soon she would be standing close to me and whispering, convinced I knew what I was doing.

‘Fancy going for a walk?’ I said.

She nodded.

‘What about the wine?’ she said.

‘We’ll be back,’ I said and got up. Put my hand on her shoulder and guided her out of the room. Turned and met the eyes of Jøgge and Bjørn, they gave me a thumbs-up and smiled. Then we were outside.

She looked up at me.

Where are we going?

Into the forest? I said. I took her tiny hand in mine and we set off. I had already kissed her breasts, on a bench I had put my head up her jumper and kissed everything I found, she had laughed and held me tight. This was what I did with girls, lay on top of them, smooched with them and kissed their breasts. Once I had pulled down a girl’s panties and poked a finger inside, that was already two years ago now.

A shiver ran through me.

‘What is it?’ she said, wrapping an arm around me. ‘Are you cold?’

‘A bit maybe,’ I said. ‘It’s turned colder.’

The big heavy clouds that had been drifting in and were now over the forest had cast a pall over the gathering darkness between the tree trunks. A gusty wind had picked up. Above us the top branches swayed.

Blood was pounding through me.

I swallowed.

‘Would you like to see where we’re staying?’ I said.

‘Yes, love to.’

The moment she said that I had an erection. It pressed hard against my trousers. I swallowed again.

In the dusk the light in the buildings where we were staying was a deep yellow. It collected around the lamps in haloes. I felt sick and my palms were damp with sweat. But I was going to do it.

I stopped and put my arms around her, we kissed, her tongue was smooth and small. My dick was throbbing so much it hurt.

‘It’s over there,’ I whispered. ‘Are you sure you want to go in with me?’

A flicker of wonderment appeared in her eyes. But she said nothing apart from yes.

I took her hand again, squeezed it hard and we walked quickly over the last two hundred metres. Hugged her again outside the unmanned reception area, almost suffocating with desire. Down the corridor to the room I shared with three others. Key out, into the lock with trembling hand, a twist, handle down, door open and in we went.

‘You back already, Karl Ove?’ Jøgge said with a laugh.

‘Have you brought a visitor with you?’ Bjørn said.

‘How nice!’ Harald said. ‘Would you like a beer, Lisbeth?’

There was nothing I could say. They were my room-mates and had just as much right to be there as me. Nor could I say that they had run back here out of sheer bloody-mindedness, or the cat would have been out of the bag, and although Lisbeth may well have guessed my plans, this was not the sort of thing that could be said out loud. Or at least not when the others were here, what would she think, that I was making fun of her?

‘What the hell are you lot doing here?’ I said.

Jøgge smiled. ‘What are
you two
doing here?’

I glared at him. He was doubled up with laughter on the bed.

Harald passed Lisbeth a beer. She took it and smiled at me.

‘How funny that your friends came too,’ she said.

What? Did she mean that?

She looked around. ‘Anyone got a fag?’

‘We’re footballers,’ Harald said. ‘Only Karl Ove smokes.’

‘Here,’ said Bjørn, tapping out a Prince Mild from his packet and passing it to her.

Such a wonderful opportunity as this would not come up again for several years. And they had ruined it out of pure devilry.

Lisbeth put her hand in my back pocket and moved close to me. My dick was like a crowbar again. I sighed.

‘Here’s a beer, Karl Ove,’ Jøgge said. ‘It was just a bit of fun.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Very funny.’

He writhed with laughter again.

We stayed there for half an hour. Lisbeth chatted with all of them. After we had finished the beers we went back to the restaurant. Lisbeth left at one, the rest of us stayed until early morning. The next day I met her briefly, we exchanged addresses and she started to cry. Not much, there were only a few tears running down her cheeks. I hugged her. Lisbeth, I said. We can meet in Løkken before very long. It’s only a ferry trip away for me. Can you make it, do you think? Yes, she said and smiled through the tears. I’ll write to you so that we can organise the details, OK? Yes, she said. We kissed, and when I turned round she was standing there watching me.

The Løkken idea was nonsense of course, just something I had said to lighten the atmosphere. She was nothing to me, I was in love with Hanne and had been all winter and spring. Everything had been about her, all I wanted was to be close to her, not to sleep with her, not even in the hope of a kiss or a caress, no, that wasn’t it, it was the light and the excitement I was filled with when I saw her that attracted me and which I occasionally thought was not of this world, it came down to us from another world. How else could it be explained? She was a normal girl, there had to be thousands of girls like her, but she alone, by being exactly the way she was, could make my heart tremble and my soul glow. Once that spring I had knelt down on the tarmac before her and asked her to marry me. She was pushing a bicycle, it was dark and raining, we were walking up by the blocks of flats in Lund, and when I did it she just laughed. She thought I was playing the fool.