The Morning Star

by Karl Ove Knausgaard

  He looked at me.

  “But I was the one who thought it up,” he said. “The others didn’t have any ideas.”

  “That’s all the more reason for you to include them, isn’t it?” I said. “Come on, let’s get you off to bed.”

  He dashed off, up the stairs and into their room. When I went in he was lying in bed with his face to the wall. The others bedded down on their mattresses.

  I sat down on the edge of his bed.

  “What’s the matter, Peter?” I said, and stroked his hair.

  He didn’t reply, but lay there stiff and unmoving.

  “You were very good,” I said. “It was a very fine play.”

  He didn’t reply.

  I stood up.

  “Sleep well,” I said. “Your mummy and daddy will come and take you two home soon,” I said to Helene and Theo.

  “Goodnight, Mummy,” said Marie.

  I switched the light off and went out.

  On the veranda I stood for a moment and looked up at the star. It was as if it had redefined the sky completely. Now it was the only thing that seemed important.

  Something terrible was going to happen.

  That was what it said.

  Something terrible was going to happen.

  * * *

  —

  It was well past midnight when Sigrid and Martin carried their sleeping children to the car. After they’d said their thanks and pulled away down the road, Gaute and I went back up into the kitchen and began to clear away and wash up the rest of the dishes. We always did so after having people round; no matter how tempting it was to go straight to bed, it was nothing compared to the feeling of waking up to a clean and tidy kitchen after a late night. Usually, we talked about the people we’d been with and the things we’d discussed, but on this particular occasion we didn’t exchange a word. Silent and sullen, Gaute rinsed the bowls and glasses, while I emptied the dishwasher, and when I began to load it again he disappeared without saying a word, presumably to fetch whatever was still left on the table.

  I was tired and a bit worried—Mum still hadn’t been in touch—and couldn’t be bothered with making an effort to lighten the mood. Besides, it would only give him an opportunity to start an argument.

  I dropped a pod of detergent in the little compartment in the dishwasher, closed it and switched it on. Without waiting for Gaute, I went upstairs, removed my makeup, washed my face, brushed my teeth and undressed. I was about to get into bed when I saw the pregnancy test packet on my bedside table.

  Had I put it there?

  I couldn’t remember.

  But I must have done, I told myself.

  I picked it up and tucked it between the bed leg and the wall before pulling the duvet aside and getting into bed. It was far too hot to lie under a duvet, but I couldn’t manage without, there was something unnatural to me about going to sleep without a cover. A sheet was no good, and whenever we were on holiday in the sun I’d always have to rummage in the cupboards for a proper duvet. It was the weight and the sense of security it gave, but it was also habit.

  The solution was to lie on my side with one leg underneath it and the other on top.

  What a strange day it had been.

  And how sensitive Peter was.

  It made him quite dysfunctional at times. He needed to toughen himself up, be more resilient.

  Why hadn’t Mum phoned?

  Should I try again?

  I half sat up, then lay down again.

  I couldn’t be bothered.

  Fortunately, the nausea had gone.

  Not that it meant anything. It was the mornings that were telling.

  Of course I wasn’t pregnant.

  Where did all these fantasies come from?

  The doppelgänger. The pregnancy.

  I hoped that was it: a fantasy.

  I was too old. The risk of chromosomal defects increased with every year.

  Would I not receive it?

  A gift from God?

  A child?

  I’d have to.

  Did God know all my thoughts?

  Don’t be silly. God is omniscient, God is omnipotent, but He is not personal.

  So I’m quite safe.

  But what a dreadful idea it was, that someone could know everything a person ever thought. And then, when life was over, confront them with it.

  So many stupid thoughts. And so many awful and malicious ones too. Not to mention those whose only purpose was to justify something.

  What was wrong with Gaute?

  I hated it when he was like that. It filled all the rooms, and was impossible to escape.

  I ought to just laugh it off.

  He couldn’t contend against laughter.

  But I was unable.

  What a dreadful idea that was, of eternal return.

  But someone knowing your each and every thought was even worse.

  Why was that?

  Because it was dreadful, wasn’t it?

  The idea of eternal return meant that we had to do as much good as possible. Because everything we did we would have to do again into infinity. But if someone knew our every thought, then we had to think as much good as possible. And that was untenable.

  Oh, this heat.

  I turned onto my other side, the duvet cool for a brief moment then against my skin.

  Gaute came up the stairs, his footsteps heavy.

  I opened my eyes and saw him standing in the doorway.

  “So who got you pregnant?” he said.

  I sat up.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve a right to know, I think.”

  “Goodness me, Gaute,” I said. “Is that what you think?”

  “What else would a pregnancy test be doing in your bag? And why have you hidden it now?”

  “You mean you’ve been rummaging in my bag?”

  “That’s beside the point. Answer the question.”

  “I’ve been feeling sick, and the idea came to me that I might be pregnant.”

  “By whom?”

  “By no one. I’m not pregnant. But if I was, it would only be you, of course.”

  “We don’t have sex anymore,” he said.

  “It’s not that long ago,” I said. “Anyway, this is absurd. I can’t talk to you if you’re presuming things like that.”

  “Who were you phoning earlier on, when you slipped away to your room?”

  “Oh, stop it,” I said. “I told you, I was phoning my mother.”

  “Let me see your phone, then.”

  “I certainly will not. You’ve gone too far now, Gaute. I won’t have you not trusting me. Do you seriously believe I’m lying to you?”

  “Yes.”

  He turned and went down the stairs again.

  I flopped back and stared up at the ceiling. I felt like I was suffocating.

  It couldn’t go on like this.

  I couldn’t stand it.

  I turned onto my side, laid my head on my arm and closed my eyes.

  My blood pumped heavily in my veins.

  What an awful day.

  How little he was.

  A little man, that was what he was.

  I opened my eyes again. A faint wash of light shimmered above the floor. I hadn’t noticed until then. At first I thought it was the moon. But it was the new star.

  Music drifted up from downstairs.

  It sounded like one of Dylan’s albums from the seventies.

  I got up and went to the open window, and looked up at the star that shone from on high. There it was, in the cold, dark sky.

  Why couldn’t it be a sign of something good?

  Of new creation, new life?

  On the bedside table beh
ind me, my phone lit up.

  It could only be Mum.

  I opened her text.

  Hi, Katie, sorry not to have called before. At the hospital with Mikael, he’s had a minor stroke. Fully conscious though, and every chance of complete recovery. On the ward with him now, so can’t talk. Will call you tomorrow. Hugs, Mum.

  ISELIN

  He was still pounding on the door as I went down the stairs, and shouting too. I was scared, he sounded completely out of it, but he’d seen me, and in a way it was his house, so I forced myself to go all the way down to the front door.

  It shuddered every time he hit it.

  “Let me in, for Christ’s sake!” he shouted.

  I held the latch between my fingers. But I couldn’t get myself to open the door. Instead, I turned round and started back up the stairs, as quietly as I could. If he hadn’t got a key, it wasn’t my place to let him in.

  I was only the lodger. And he was out of his head on drugs.

  He could be dangerous.

  I stopped.

  What did it matter?

  Something was happening. Something out of control and unpredictable.

  I went down again, only this time I wasn’t bothered if he could hear me.

  I paused in front of the door. He was still hammering on it.

  I unlocked it.

  But he didn’t realize, he just kept on battering with his fist, so I opened it cautiously.

  As soon as he saw it open, he came barging in, shoving me back against the wall as he went.

  “Lock the door! Lock the door!” he shouted, and ran up the stairs.

  The door of one of the rooms up there slammed shut after him.

  I locked the front door and went up to my room on the top floor, locked my own door and got into bed again. I switched off the iPad, wiped my face and throat with a towel, closed my eyes.

  From the floor below me came a loud, piercing scream.

  “AAAAARRRGH!” he screamed. “AAAAARRRGH!”

  I sat up in fright.

  I’d never heard anyone scream like that.

  “AAAAARRGH!” he screamed again. “AAAAAAARRRGH!”

  He must have taken something really powerful. Ketamine. That made you hallucinate. Or LSD.

  The poor guy.

  I had to help him. Or did I?

  He could be dangerous. He might think I was after him and kill me. All it took was a knife in his hand and it’d be no more me.

  But he could hurt himself, too.

  He was completely out of it.

  I got up and stood there without knowing what to do. Then he screamed again and I made a decision. I got a knife out of the drawer just in case and went slowly down the stairs. The door into their part of the house was open.

  “NO, NO, NO,” he shouted from inside.

  I stepped into the hall, not knowing where he was, waiting for him to scream again. Only now it was all quiet.

  For some reason I knew right away he was behind the door furthest away. His old room.

  I opened it carefully.

  He was on his knees in the middle of the room with his hands folded. There was no light on, but I could see that his eyes were closed.

  “Hi,” I said softly.

  Abruptly, his eyes opened and he got halfway to his feet, almost throwing himself back against the wall at the same time.

  “NO!” he shouted. “NO! NO!”

  He pressed himself against the wall, staring at me with terrified eyes.

  What was he seeing?

  “It’s only me,” I said, gripping the knife tighter behind my back. “The lodger. There’s nothing to be scared of. Everything’s all right.”

  He was hyperventilating. Pressing back against the wall like a trapped animal. I didn’t move, and after a bit it looked like he was starting to calm down.

  “What’s that behind your back?” he said.

  “Nothing,” I said. “There’s nothing behind my back.”

  “Show me your hands,” he said.

  I tried to smile, as friendly as I could.

  “There’s nothing there,” I said.

  “SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!” he shouted, and came suddenly toward me. I jumped back, turned and ran out of the room and up the stairs. I looked over my shoulder as I got to the top. He hadn’t come after me. I locked my door and lay down on the bed, my heart thumping in my chest as I tried to catch my breath.

  Fucking hell.

  He was out of his mind, and inside the house.

  What was I going to do?

  I held my breath for a few seconds and listened.

  It was all quiet down there.

  I got my phone out and scrolled through my contacts.

  As soon as I started breathing properly again, I phoned the owners. I had both their numbers, but chose hers. Her name was Anne.

  She answered straightaway.

  “Iselin,” she said. “Is something the matter?”

  “Hi,” I said. “Someone was at the door. I think it’s your son.”

  “Jesper? Is he there?”

  “Yes. But he’s out of control. Screaming and shouting. I tried to talk to him, but he chased me upstairs. I think he must be on something. It’s like he’s hallucinating. I don’t know what to do. I know you can’t really do anything from where you are. But I thought you might know someone I could call.”

  “Jesper’s been reported missing,” she said. “We’re in Amsterdam at the moment, on our way home to find him. But he’s there, you say? Are you sure it’s him?”

  “I think so. He was shouting for his mother at the door. What do you think I should do? I’m a bit scared.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “He keeps screaming. It’s like he’s possessed or something. There’s no talking to him.”

  “This is awful,” she said. “We won’t be home until late in the morning. Listen, I’ll call you back in a few minutes, OK?”

  “OK,” I said.

  With the phone still in my hand, I stood up and went to the window. I leaned out. The heat out there was massive.

  Downstairs, he screamed again. It cut right through me.

  It had been almost as if he’d seen something else when he looked at me. It was like he was in a different world altogether, where everything meant something different.

  The phone rang.

  “Iselin?” she said. “Are you still there?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “We’ve called the police. They should be there very soon. What’s going on at the moment?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m up in my room. He just screamed.”

  “I’m so sorry about this, Iselin,” she said. “Thanks for bearing up. It’ll soon be over, I’m sure.”

  When I hung up the place was quiet. I lay down on my bed again. Sweat ran from my armpits and down the insides of my arms. I scratched myself and wiped my face with a towel.

  Now it was the silence that scared me.

  Had he killed himself?

  I wouldn’t have put it past him.

  But he’d probably just fallen asleep.

  I got up and went over to the window again. The street was a dead end, so the police could only come from the one direction.

  Nothing yet.

  I knew I should wait until they got there, let them in and leave it to them. Only the thought of him lying dead or injured wouldn’t leave me alone.

  I turned the little key and unlocked my door, then crept down the staircase, stopping to listen on the landing.

  Not a sound.

  A car came up the road outside and I turned to look out of the window. It was the police. The blue light was flashing, but there was no siren. Two men and a woman got out. They stood talking for a second as they looked up at the hous
e.

  It was still completely quiet in there.

  Then there was a knock on the front door, and it was like an actor in a movie you were watching suddenly appearing in your room.

  I went as quietly as I could down the last flight of stairs and opened the door.

  “Hi,” the policewoman said. “Are you Iselin?”

  I nodded.

  “Is he upstairs?”

  “Yes. But it’s all gone quiet. He might be asleep. He was completely out of it just now, though.”

  “Has he harmed you in any way?”

  I shook my head.

  “He’s just been screaming like mad. And then he came at me, but I got away and he didn’t come after me.”

  “You rent a room in the attic, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you mind showing us what part of the house he’s in? You can go back to your room. We’ll take care of things.”

  They followed me up the stairs.

  “He’s in there,” I said, and they stepped up to the door and knocked while I carried on up to my room. I left my door open and stood still for some time so I could hear what was happening down there.

  But there was nothing.

  If they’d already taken him away, they’d certainly been quiet about it.

  No screams, no scuffles, no violence.

  After a while, someone came up the stairs. I pushed the door to without closing it and sat down on the bed.

  There was a knock.

  It was the policewoman.

  “We can’t find him,” she said. “He doesn’t seem to be here at all.”

  “What?” I said. “But he must be. I can hear everything in this house. If he’d gone out, I’d have heard him.”

  “Could he have got into the rooms on the ground floor? The door’s locked down there. You wouldn’t have a key, would you?”

  I shook my head.

  “OK,” she said. “In that case, there’s not much more we can do. Call this number if he comes back. I’ll get in touch with his mother now.”

  She handed me a card and I put it down on the table.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said, and then went down the stairs again. After a few minutes, they started their car and pulled slowly away down the road, without the blue light this time.