“Are my muscles that puny?” I ask, pretending to sound a little surprised and looking down at my arms, then I look up at Helen and Per again. Neither of them says anything right away, but they exchange glances that say, “Yes, they are actually,” and then they both burst out laughing, laughing at how puny my muscles are. I shouldn’t let it bother me, I know—I mean, how childish can you get—but I feel it getting to me a bit all the same.
“Nah, your muscles are just the right size,” Helen declares, sounding like a mother soothing a hurt child or something. She pauses, then she meets Per’s eye and bursts out laughing again, and Per starts to laugh too, and it’s getting to me more and more, I’m starting to get a little annoyed, but I don’t let it show. Instead I act as though I despair of them, shake my head and try to look like someone who’s pretending to be crestfallen.
“Okay, okay,” I say. “Fortunately, though, there are other bits of me that are big enough for you.” It just slips out and I’m feeling quite pleased with this remark, it gives my self-esteem a little boost, I can tell, firing off a retort like this. Okay, so it was a bit crude, but it was funny. I glance at Per, chuckling happily, and Per gives his big booming laugh again.
“Yes, well I know how upset it makes you if I don’t say that,” Helen says, tipping her head back and draining her glass in one gulp. Then she puts down her glass and looks me in the eye. And suddenly she’s wearing that cold, hard smile again. It’s like turning a switch off and on. I just don’t get it.
“Ah, now it’s all coming out,” I mutter and I try to laugh, but don’t quite manage it.
“Pour me some more wine, will you,” Helen says, pushing her glass over to my side of the table.
“Please will you pour me some more wine, you mean,” I reply, doing my best to keep it light and playful, and I look at her and smile.
“Are you going to start dictating how I should talk now too?” she asks, still smiling that cold, hard smile.
“No, I might as well try to dictate the wind and the weather,” I say, still keeping it light and playful. I look at Per and give a little laugh, then I turn to Helen again. She’s just sitting there looking straight at me and smiling that hard smile of hers.
“So, do I get some more wine?” she asks, motioning towards her empty glass. “Or have you perhaps decided that I’ve had enough?”
“Well, it is nearly bedtime,” I say, ignoring her aggressive tone and manner and still keeping my tone light and playful, possibly in an attempt to lure her into a different, less hostile frame of mind, I don’t know. “Oh, well,” I say, and I pick up the wine bottle and refill her glass. She’s a bit drunk already, I can tell just by looking at her, it doesn’t take much at all with those pills she’s on. She’s already in a very different place from me. I set down the bottle, shake my watch out of my shirtsleeve.
“Gosh, is it only ten o’clock?” I say.
“Yeah, yeah,” Helen says. “I know, the night’s still young.”
“Huh?”
“Why can’t you just be a man and ask me not too drink so fast?” she says, and she looks at me and grins as she picks up her glass and takes a big gulp. I don’t say anything for a moment, don’t exactly know what to say. I have every reason to ask her not to drink so fast, but that’s not actually what I meant. A moment passes, then she puts down her glass and looks at Per. “Ole doesn’t like it when I get drunk, you see, because then he’s got no control over me,” Helen says with a rippling little laugh. “But now,” she suddenly announces in a bright, jaunty voice, “I’m going for a dip.” She jumps up and starts taking off her clothes. She pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it onto the bench, then she reaches her hands behind her back, unfastens her bra and slips it off. I just sit there staring at her, desperation tearing at my gut, and I can’t get a word out. I try to smile and look as if this isn’t anything to get upset about, but it’s a pretty agonized smile. A moment passes, then she bends down and pulls off her underpants as well. She smiles at us, trying to look as if there’s nothing the slightest bit shocking about this. “Anyone want to join me?” she asks as she throws her underpants on top of her shirt.
Silence. “Hmm?” she says.
“I think I’ll pass,” I say.
“Me too,” Per says, taking care not to look at her, he must realize how embarrassing this is for me and I suppose he wants to spare me that much at least. He may come across as loud-mouthed and uncouth, Per, he’s not always as tactful as he might be, but he can tell that I’m not happy about this.
“Oh, well,” Helen says in a kind of airy, girlish voice, then she makes her way down to the water. I watch her tiptoeing unsteadily over the wet, blue-black stones, we don’t say a thing, Per and I, the crackling of the fire and the occasional cry of a gull are all that break the silence. I glance at Per as I put my hand to my whisky glass, feel a surge of warmth and affection for him. I really appreciate the way he’s dealing with this. He can be a bit too brash and blunt, Per, but he’s being tactful here, pretending there’s nothing wrong, behaving the way a good friend should, he doesn’t so much as glance at Helen.
“Oh, by the way, I ran into Eva in town this morning,” Per says, looking at me and shaking his head. “Christ, she’s aged. I hardly recognized her.”
“Oh?”
“Just the way she was dressed, like an old bag.”
“I can’t say I’ve noticed, although I see her almost every day at Daniel’s nursery,” I say. “It’s just the same as with that guy I see in the mirror every morning,” I add, shooting a quick glance at Helen and giving a little laugh, she’s waist-deep in the water now, shivering and looking as though she’s plucking up the courage to duck right under. I turn back to Per.
“Yeah, time flies,” he says. He looks at me with his bleary, boozy eyes and gives a little laugh as well. “It’s pretty scary,” he adds.
“Yep,” I say. I look at him and smile as I take a sip of my whisky, then I notice the grave look in his eyes. He holds my gaze, smiles a little uncertainly. He’s looking at me the way people do when they want to say something, but aren’t sure whether it’s okay to do so. Maybe he wants me to say that I find it scary too, the thought of how quickly the time goes, not just reply flippantly the way I just did, but say it like I really mean it. He’s scared and he wants to hear someone say that that’s perfectly normal, maybe that’s what he’s angling for. I put down my glass and just then I hear Helen squeal. I shoot another glance in her direction, she’s in up to her shoulders, gasping as she tries to acclimate herself to the freezing cold water.
“Aw, I think everybody our age has their moments,” I say, turning to look at Per again. I have to try to humor him a little. “I mean, we’re at that age when it starts to dawn on us that we’re not going to live forever and that we’re not going to achieve all the goals we once set for ourselves.” I say. “It comes as a shock to a lot of people to realize this,” I go on, trying to somehow make it easier for him by making out that it’s perfectly normal to worry about such things, although I’m not entirely sure what it is that’s worrying him, but I don’t think I’m too far off the mark.
“Yeah, right,” he says. There’s a kind of a glow in his bleary, booze-soaked eyes, he gazes at me intently, waiting to hear what I’m going to say next, waiting maybe for me to tell him about something that came as a shock to me, something that will make it easier and less embarrassing for him to tell me what’s worrying him.
The fire crackles and some glowing embers fly out from one side. I follow them with my eyes, watch how the wind catches them and carries them up and out across the water where they die and disappear.
“Yep,” I say. “I have my black days too, you know.”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything, eyes me gravely, waiting for me to tell him more about these black days and what they involve. But I don’t say anything, don’t quite know what to say. It’s a bit sudden all this and I’m feeling a little confused, it isn’t like the Per I know at a
ll, to talk so openly about things like this. I don’t remember ever seeing him like this before and it knocks me a little off-balance, suddenly it’s like I don’t know where I have him.
“But you’ve done well for yourself, man,” he says. “New baby son and all that.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, then I stop. I don’t really know what to say so I just sit there waggling my head. “I have, but … it’s just that … everybody who has kids says it’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to them. And it is, in a way … but sometimes I find myself thinking it’s all a big lie, a lie that we need to believe in if we’re to cope with all the challenges of being a parent,” I say. “That it’s something we tell ourselves to give us the strength to get through each day or something like that,” I add, not exactly sure where all this is coming from, not exactly sure why I’m saying it either, maybe it’s an instinctive attempt to comfort him by reminding him that it’s not all sunshine and roses for me either, I don’t know.
“But you love him, don’t you?”
“I’d give my life for him without a second thought,” I say like a shot. I look Per straight in the eye as I say it and I feel a little thrill run through me, because it was so spontaneous, which only goes to show that it must be true, and that makes me happy.
“There you are then,” Per says. “Now me, I don’t have anyone I’m willing to give my life for.” He gives an anxious grin as he picks up his glass, keeps his eye fixed on mine as he drinks, watching carefully to see how I’ll react to what he’s saying. I look at the table, gaze at a white splatter of congealed bird shit. Just for a second, then I look up at him again, this really isn’t the Per I know and I realize that I’m growing more and more uncertain, I don’t really know what to say, so I just sit there, playing for time.
“But at the same time you have to remember that things don’t necessarily get any easier just because you have a kid,” I say, following the line I started with, trying to make his problem seem smaller by reminding him that life’s not exactly a walk in the park for me either. “There are times when I feel like running from the whole deal,” I say, “and there are times when I’m so shit-scared … that I’ve made the wrong choices or that I’m not up to it all, stuff like that …”
“There’ve been days when I didn’t dare go out of the house,” he says suddenly.
There’s silence. He looks me straight in the eye, with that anxious grin on his face, like he’s waiting to see how I’ll react. I don’t say anything, don’t know what to say, because this definitely isn’t the Per I know, and I feel a surge of unease.
“Sometimes, when I’m out among people I get so scared I break out into a cold sweat and it’s like I can’t breathe,” he goes on. “And one day last week when I was in the supermarket I left my groceries out after I’d paid for them because I couldn’t even stay long enough to put them into the shopping bags,” he says, and he gives a strained, high-pitched laugh, still looking me straight in the eye, and I’m growing more and more uneasy because I’m liking this less and less. It’s good that he dares to be more open than he usually is, but still, it’s not right to go dumping all of this on me out of the blue, we’re not such close friends any more, after all. And anyway, he’s a bit drunk himself now, it might be hard for us to look each other in the eye later if he’s going to blurt out stuff like this. I pick up my whisky glass, take a sip and put it down again, then I look up at Per. I really don’t feel like continuing this conversation, not now, I’ve got more than enough to worry about at the moment and I can’t cope with acting as confessor for Per as well, I don’t have the energy for it, but I can’t give him the brush-off either. I know how much it costs Per to tell me what he’s just told me. It’s not the sort of thing a man from around here does just like that so I have to at least try to seem interested.
“Phew,” I say.
Silence. Per just sits there looking straight at me. A moment, and then his cheeks start to flush.
“Yeah, phew is right,” he says, then he grins and I feel a wave of mild panic wash over me: he thinks I don’t want to know. He tells me something really serious and all I can say is “Phew”? Like I’m belittling his problems, as good as saying that I really don’t want to hear about it, and now he’s sitting there looking red-faced and embarrassed. He tries to disguise it with a grin, but I can see that he’s embarrassed and he knows I can see it.
“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that,” I say.
“Like what?” Per asks, still grinning.
“Well, I …,” I say, then I shut my eyes and shake my head. “I mean, have you tried to get help?” I ask, trying to pick up where we left off, trying to show him that I really am interested and that I do care, but it’s too late, he’s realized that I really don’t feel like talking about this and that I’m only asking because I feel I should.
“Nope,” he says cockily, reaching for his glass. “Aw, what the fuck—cheers!” he cries and he looks me straight in the face and grins, then he tips back his head, drains the glass in one gulp and slams it down on the table, still staring me in the face, flushed and grinning. There’s a wild light in his eyes now, I can see the fire reflected in them, but this wild look can’t just be put down to that, there’s something else too, he looks almost crazy. It’s only there for a second or two and then he pulls himself together, looks down at the table, stays like that for a moment, then raises his eyes to me again. He’s still grinning, but his eyes seem calmer.
“Can I take another drop of your whisky?” he asks in a rather gruff voice, nodding at the bottle.
“Of course,” I say and I pick up the bottle and pour whisky for both of us.
Then Helen comes tiptoeing back up over the rocks, shivering and bent double with her arms wrapped around herself.
“Brr, it’s freezing out there,” she says, planting herself in front of the fire. She’s covered in goosebumps, shivering and chattering. “Ole, could you run up to the house and get me a towel?” she asks.
I don’t answer straight away. I don’t like the idea of leaving her alone here with Per with no clothes on. It’s bad enough for her to strip off and go skinny-dipping in front of another man, but it would be even worse for her to be left here stark naked while I’m up at the house. I can’t bring myself to say this straight out, but I look her in the eye, make it quite clear that I’m not happy about this.
“Well, could you?” she asks, acting all innocent, smiling at me as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
“Oh, all right,” I say, getting up from the bench. I hold her eye for a second longer, but she’s still acting innocent and my stomach wrenches as I turn and start to walk up the path. It’ll be good to get away from Per for a minute or two after what just happened—a little break, to give us a chance to forget what’s been said and then we can talk about something else, but I don’t like leaving Helen alone with him, not when she doesn’t have a stitch on. I’ve never been a particularly jealous man, but there are limits and I don’t trust her either, not when she’s in this mood. I walk up the little hill, doing my best to walk as fast as I can without looking as if I’m hurrying, don’t want to look like a jealous man who’s terrified of what his girlfriend might get up to. I don’t look back either, walk straight ahead at a normal pace until I’m out of sight and then I break into a run. I run all the way up to the house, up onto the terrace, through the living room and into the bathroom. I whip a bath towel off the shelf and dash out again. I bound back down the path until I’m almost at the top of the hill, then I slow to a walk again and stroll down the slope, looking down at them: Helen huddled in front of the fire and Per still sitting where he was when I left. I don’t quite know what I had imagined, but I feel relieved at any rate. I go over to her and hand her the towel.
“That was quick,” she says. She knows full well that I ran half the way and she’s making no secret of it. She looks at me and grins as she starts to dry her hair.
“Yep,” is all I say, smiling back a
t her and playing it cool. I sit down on the bench, take a drink of my whisky and gaze out across the sparkling blue fjord. The water’s like glass. On the other side, the island of Jøa lies bathed in the sort of warm, golden light that only the low evening sun can give. I put down my glass and look across at Helen. She’s fiddling with the catch on her bra, tongue between her teeth.
“Per, could you help me with this?” she says. “My fingers are so cold I can’t hook it up.” She looks at Per and smiles and Per smiles back. I look at them and feel my stomach wrench again. I don’t like this, it’s not right, she should have asked me, not Per, but I try to look as if nothing’s amiss.
“Well, I’ve actually got more experience of unhooking those things than hooking them up,” Per says, “but I guess I can manage that as well.” He eyes Helen and laughs that coarse laugh of his, and Helen laughs back, glancing me as she does so, hoping to see me looking upset now, that’s what she wants, I know it is, but I won’t give her the satisfaction. I look at them, force a little laugh as well, as if I’m chuckling at Per’s joke, then I turn away, watch a couple of eagles circling over Tømmervikfjell, hardly using their wings, gliding around and around up there. I take another sip of my whisky, conscious that I’m getting angry, resentment starting to smolder inside me. I’ve had just about enough of her behavior, I’m getting sick of her walking all over me, but no fucking way am I going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me lose my head. I’m going to have to play it as cool as I can, let her carry on, she’ll just have to take the consequences later, and this time I’m going to be firm, I’m not going to give in to tears or pleading. I’ve warned her before, but now I’ve had it, I’m not putting up with this any longer.
Encircling 2 Page 10