by Jon Fosse
What is it? I ask.
And I look at my neighbour but he just shakes his head and waves his hand around. I see that his eyes are bulging from his head.
Come on in.
I step back from the doorway, into the hall. The neighbour comes into the hall, but he doesn’t shut the door and I go shut the front door behind him. I see the neighbour standing breathing hard in the hall and I hear him trying to say something but he’s breathing so heavily he can only say It’s before the breathing is too much. I go down the hall, open the door to the living room, go sit down in the armchair. I see the neighbour come into the room, he shuts the door behind him and then he goes over to the table, pulls out a chair, sits down. I have to say something.
Nice of you to stop by.
I look at my neighbour, he nods at me, my neighbour is sitting there on the chair breathing, then I hear him say Awful before the word disappears into his breathing.
What is? I say.
The neighbour shakes his head.
Awful, he says.
What is? I say.
Have to wait a bit, the neighbour says.
You need to go back home right away?
The neighbour nods.
Can I offer you some coffee?
I look at my neighbour and he nods, so I get up, go out to the kitchen, get a cup, go back into the living room, and put the cup down in front of my neighbour. I see the thermos sitting on the round table, but that coffee is probably lukewarm, probably not so good any more, I should go make some new coffee. I take the thermos and go back to the kitchen. I pour out the old coffee. I put the new coffee on. I sit down on a kitchen stool, I don’t want to go back to the living room until the coffee’s ready. And why did my neighbour come over just now? He’s never dropped by so early in the day. Why is my neighbour here? He says it’s bad. What’s he talking about? What does he want? I get up and stand in front of the window and look out. It’s looking like it’ll be a nice summer day, not too much sun, no rain. It’s morning now. And I have to bury the dog today. Now I can’t wait any longer. And it’s a nice summer day, not too much sun, no rain, a nice day. Today I won’t do much. Then tonight I’ll have a good night’s sleep. A good night’s sleep, I’m exhausted. I hear from the coffeemaker that the coffee’s ready and I pour the coffee into the thermos, go into the living room, see the neighbour standing in front of the window and looking down at the garden, I go pour some coffee into the cup on the living room table in front of the chair he’s pulled out and then I hear my neighbour say you’re digging and I can’t really answer that. I look at the neighbour, go over to the armchair, pour some coffee into my cup, put the thermos down on the table, sit down, and then I see the neighbour turn around and walk across the room, taking small steps. The neighbour sits back down on the chair and I hear him say yes you’re digging.
Yes, I say.
It looks like a grave, the neighbour says.
You’re right, it does.
What is it?
Nothing special.
No.
Did I wake you up when I came over?
No.
Looked like it.
I slept here in the living room last night, on the sofa, I say.
Why’s that?
No particular reason.
Do you usually do that?
No.
Have you ever done it before?
The neighbour is asking me if I have ever slept in the living room before and I can’t really answer that, maybe I haven’t but that’s none of his business, I should just say something.
Everything all right with you? I say.
Yeah.
Nice summer we’re having, I say.
I have to say something, yes, I can’t let the neighbour just sit there and ask me question after question, can I. I see my neighbour sitting staring straight ahead. The neighbour looks up at me.
Yes, well, the neighbour says.
I hear that my neighbour’s breathing normally again.
Something’s happened, the neighbour says.
I look at him.
Something’s happened?
Yeah.
I see the neighbour sitting staring straight ahead.
I got a phone call, the neighbour says.
Uh huh.
Since you don’t have a phone I thought I’d come up and tell you.
Uh huh.
Something crazy’s happened.
Uh huh.
Somebody killed the guy who lives by the bend.
I hear the neighbour say that the guy who lives by the bend has been killed and it shocks me, because it’s something I wanted, I wanted someone to do away with him, I wanted him to die, to disappear, but now that it’s happened I almost can’t understand how it’s possible. I look at the neighbour, he looks at me. I smile and shake my head.
Good, I say.
You can’t say that, the neighbour says.
But he was a total bastard.
Now he’s dead.
Yes.
You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.
No.
I see my neighbour sitting staring straight ahead. My neighbour’s told me that the guy who lives by the bend has been killed. And that’s just what should have happened to him. He didn’t deserve any better. That’s as it should be. It’s just what he deserved. But I should probably ask the neighbour how it happened, yes, I have to.
So, he’s dead, I say.
Yes, the neighbour says.
How?
It must have been last night, stabbed to death, it was an awl or something, straight through the heart.
Huh.
His wife wasn’t home so it was his kid who found him, a daughter. The girl told the old woman in the house on the cape and she called for the doctor and the sheriff. But by then he was long dead.
So. Someone killed him then?
It sure looks like it.
Who could have done it?
They’re saying he might have been killed with a pitchfork.
A pitchfork?
Yeah.
Yes, that would do it, I say.
And I look at my neighbour. I hear my neighbour sigh, then he looks at me and I see the neighbour shake his head before he picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip. I pick up my coffee cup too, sip a little coffee, and I hear the neighbour mutter that that’s it for that bastard and then I see him shake his head. I look down and I also say yes, that’s it for that bastard. I sigh.
Where’s your dog?
I hear my neighbour ask me where my dog is. Why should he ask me about my dog? Why’s he asking about my dog? It’s not his dog, is it, my dog’s none of his business. I don’t have to answer, I can just not say anything. Why the fuck is he asking about the dog.
Well, I say.
He’s always usually so frisky when I come over, the neighbour says.
That’s what he’s like, yes.
It can be a bit much sometimes, but not too bad, it feels like something’s missing when he’s not here.
Yeah.
I look out the window, towards the fjord, there are some small waves in the fjord today. And the sky’s getting darker. Maybe rain is coming.
Looks like it might rain, I say.
Yes.
Sky’s getting darker.
I should probably get home.
I look at my neighbour, he gets up, he stands with his big belly out in the air, then the neighbour looks down and he says that that’s it for that bastard and then he goes over to the living room door. My neighbour looks at me. I look down and my neighbour looks at me for a long time.
Yes, well, thanks for the coffee and the chat, he says.
See you soon, I say.
Bye.
I hear my neighbour say goodbye and then he opens the living room door and goes out into the hall, shuts the door. I hear him go down the hall and hear him open and shut the front door. I get up from the armchair, stand in front of the window and see the pile of earth lying in the
garden, and then I say that fucker, that was just what that fucker deserved, just what he deserved, and then I look at the drive and I see my neighbour stop, he is standing bent over, resting his arms on his thighs, and the neighbour shakes his head and I see from his mouth that he’s saying something to himself. The neighbour straightens up, then he looks over at the pile of earth, shakes his head. The neighbour starts down the drive again and I sit back down in the chair. That was what he deserved, it’s what had to happen, I say. And what should I do now, I can’t dig more when it’s light out, maybe I should take a walk up the road too, to see what’s going on, because the neighbour did say that the guy by the bend in the road was killed last night, so I should probably go take a walk up the road and look, see how things are. I get up, go out into the hall, put my jacket on, put my shoes on. I go out, shut the front door, but don’t lock it. I go down the drive, see my neighbour standing on the side of the road, he’s standing and looking straight ahead. I go over to my neighbour, stop next to him, my neighbour looks at me.
You’re off to take a walk, he says.
I nod.
Up the road? he asks.
Yeah.
See if you see anything? the neighbour asks.
Just taking a walk, I say.
You don’t have your dog with you.
No.
Don’t often see you without your dog.
Are you going home? I ask.
Thought I would.
Um-hm.
But if you walk slowly, I can go with you, the neighbour says.
I nod. We start walking up the road, walking next to each other, not saying anything, walking slowly. I should stop by and see how things look. Because the guy at the bend’s been killed and he deserved it. I’ll go take a look around. Because the guy at the bend’s been killed. And he deserved it. Fucking bastard he was. So he’s dead now. My neighbour and I are walking up the road together, not saying anything, walking slowly. And now the guy at the bend’s been killed. I wouldn’t have minded killing him myself, wouldn’t have bothered me, but now he’s dead. The neighbour and I are walking together. We go around the bend and I can see into the house by the bend. I can see into the house where the dead man lived. One window is open. His car is parked in the yard. And there are cars parked on the main road just below his house. An old lady, the woman who lives on the cape, is standing out near the cars by herself. My neighbour and I walk over to her. She sees us and comes walking towards us.
Isn’t it terrible, she says.
Yes, the neighbour says.
They’re saying someone might have stabbed him with a pitchfork, she says.
Really? I say.
The old lady looks at me and nods.
Who do they think did it? I say.
They don’t know, she says.
No suspects? I say.
Well, people are talking, she says.
The old lady looks at me and I look at her.
Um-hm, I say.
It’s crazy, my neighbour says.
A thing like that happening here, who would’ve thought, the old lady says.
It’s probably the first time there’s ever been a murder around here, she says.
I’m sure it is, my neighbour says.
You can never feel safe, she says.
I look at my neighbour and he shakes his head.
I won’t be able to sleep at night after this, the old lady says.
Oh, no, well, my neighbour says.
No I don’t think so, she says.
He wasn’t much liked, you know, my neighbour says.
No, the old lady says.
Not at all, I say.
I notice the old lady looking at me. I look down.
That’s what they say, she says.
I look at my neighbour and he starts to walk over to the parked cars. I follow him, walking next to the old lady.
For a thing like that to happen here, she says.
It’s terrible, I say.
Could just as well have been me, she says.
I don’t answer, I walk over to my neighbour, see him stop and look up at the house. I look up at the house and the window of the bedroom where the fucker lay asleep is open and a curtain is fluttering in the wind. I see my neighbour squint up at the house, then he looks at a car.
That’s the sheriff’s car, he says.
They say he’s going to order an autopsy, the old lady says.
I see, the neighbour says.
And the kids and his wife, the old lady says.
It must have been one of the kids who found him, I say.
The wife’s away, the old lady says.
Right, I say.
The doctor must’ve taken the kids with him, she says.
I look up at the house, the basement door is open too. I look at my neighbour, he is standing by the side of the road, where the drive meets the main road. I go over to my neighbour and stand next to him. I hear a car driving up, I turn around and see that it’s the ambulance, it stops, starts to back up the drive, stops in the yard, and two men get out of the ambulance, open the back, pull out a stretcher, carry it over to the open basement door together, disappear into the house. Maybe he’s not dead then, the fucker. I didn’t stab him hard enough. Should’ve stabbed him again. Should’ve stabbed him more.
Now they’re transporting him, my neighbour says.
Transporting him?
Probably for the autopsy, my neighbour says.
I look at the old lady.
This is terrible, she says.
Yes, I say.
And in such a small town, she says.
I look at my neighbour.
We should probably be getting home, I say.
My neighbour nods. I walk a little further. I stop. And it is terrible. Because, yes, he was a bastard, but he didn’t deserve to get killed. Who could have done such a thing? What can it mean? And now I have to go home to my dog, because my dog can’t wait any more now, he hasn’t had any fresh air yet today. The dog can’t be alone any more now. But my neighbour might come with me. I turn around and look at my neighbour.
Here they come, my neighbour says.
I go back, stand next to my neighbour and look up at the house. The two men come out carrying a stretcher between them and he’s lying on the stretcher but his face is covered, a sheet or something is lying over the face. I see them bring the stretcher and put it in the ambulance, one of the men shuts the door and then they go sit in the front of the ambulance, start the engine, start driving down the drive, turn, head towards where we are. I stand looking at the ambulance, it comes closer, comes up next to me, keeps driving. I look at the ambulance, then I look at my neighbour.
We should probably go, my neighbour says.
We start walking, me first, my neighbour a little behind me. He is sure fucking dead. He’s dead. The fucker’s dead. He’s dead. That fucker sure is dead. He’s been stabbed straight through the heart, he’s dead. He’s dead. He is stone cold dead. I say now he’s dead, the bastard, he’s been stabbed through the heart and he’s dead, stone cold dead. I stop, turn around, wait for my neighbour. I see my neighbour walking with short steps. My neighbour is breathing hard.
I think I need to sit down for a minute, my neighbour says.
You should do that, I say.
And I see my neighbour huffing and puffing heavily.
You go on ahead, he says.
All right, I say.
I’ll just sit on the kerb for a bit, my neighbour says.
I nod to the neighbour and then start to walk faster. Now I have to get home. I have to finish digging. It’s starting to get urgent now. I need to hurry. I go down the road, walking fast. And it really is terrible that that guy from the bend in the road’s been killed. Sure he was a bastard, but still. And my dog. The dog definitely needs some fresh air now. I need to hurry. The dog’s all alone, he hasn’t been out today. I’m walking fast. Now I need to get home to the dog. And I see my drive. I keep walking and st
art up my drive. I stop and look at the pile of earth in the garden. Now I have to bury the dog soon. I can’t wait any more. I have to bury the dog now. I go out into the garden, go over to the grave, and stand and look down into the grave. That should be deep enough. But I probably do need to wait. I need to wait longer. But the grave is deep enough. But I probably do need to wait until it gets dark before I bury the dog, I probably can’t bury my dog until it’s dark out. Because someone might see me. I look around in the garden, some red roses are back on one of the bushes and I go over to the bush, start breaking off roses, I pick a lot of roses then go over and lay rose after rose in the grave, the bottom of the grave is almost covered with roses. I stand up and look down at the grave. It’s a nice grave, I say. I couldn’t have made a better grave, I say. But now I should go inside. Make some coffee. I have to do it. There’s nothing else to do. I leave the garden, go up into the house, hang my jacket up, go into the living room. I sit down in the chair, look out the window. I sit and look out the window. Now he’s dead, dead, dead. He deserved it and he got it. Now he’s dead. He’s dead. I sit and look out the window and I see my neighbour come walking up, he’s walking slowly, he stops at the side of the road breathing hard. The neighbour starts walking again. I stand up, pick up the thermos, pour myself a little coffee. I stand in front of the window looking down at the grave. It’s a nice grave, a really nice grave, I’ve never seen such a nice grave before, never, I say. And now I need to bury the dog soon because it doesn’t matter that much if it’s dark, it’s OK if it’s light out too, I guess, it doesn’t really make much difference, but I really do have to get it done now. I stand looking down at the grave. And my dog can’t just stay lying up in my bed, there’s no way. I haven’t looked in on my dog for a long time. Can’t keep a dead dog in my bed, now can I. I sit back down in the chair. That’s the only thing left to do. Everything else is done. Just get the dog buried, then everything’ll be all done. I’m sitting in the chair, then I get up, go out into the hall, go upstairs. I stop outside the bedroom door and I decide to shut my eyes when I walk into the bedroom, it’s too horrible, seeing my dog, because my dog is lying there, gone, it’s too much, it’s totally fucking horrible. I shut my eyes then open the bedroom door and walk into the bedroom. And what a wimp I’m being, I’m going into the bedroom to pick up the dog and I can’t even open my eyes. I need to be able to see my dog. I open my eyes. I see my dog lying in my bed and it looks like he’s sleeping. I stand looking at my dog, he’s lying on his side with his head on my pillow. I go over to the bed, stop, look at the dog. A damn fine dog, I say. But now he’s dead, I say. You were a great dog, I say. How could anyone want to kill you, I say. And I sit down on the edge of the bed and try not to look at his shattered head. But now my dog is dead, I say and then I put my hand on the dog’s fur, rub my hand in the fur. I say: Now you’re going to have a nice rest. I say: You are a damn fine dog and you were a good friend for many years, and now you’ll have a nice rest. I take my hand off him, now I need to take the dog and bury the dog, there’s no point in waiting until tonight, it’s better to do it now, because the dog can’t stay lying here like this, a dead dog, head blown apart, the dog can’t stay lying in my bed like this, no, he can’t, it, I mean. I say: It’s time for you to go away now. I look at the dog and then say you were such a good friend and I’ve done the right thing. I put my hand back in his fur, rub around in the fur, and I say now you need to go away and you’ll wait for me, you’ll be there when I get there, you’ll be excited and wag your tail like crazy. I say: It’ll be my turn soon. I lean over the bed, pull the dog against my chest, pick the dog up and then I’m standing with the dog in my arms and rocking him back and forth like a baby and I say you have to go away now, far away, but it’s somewhere where it isn’t cold, it isn’t freezing, you need to go away now and I have to go now, I can’t stay standing like this, I have to just go, now, you’ll wait for me, I’ll be coming soon, you’ll be excited and wag your tail when I get there, because I’m coming too, soon now, it won’t be long, I say and then I stop, put the dog back down on the bed, go over to the wardrobe and take out a wool blanket, spread it out, put it on the bed folded double, then I lift the dog up over the wool blanket, then I rub the dog’s fur again and I say all right then, that’s nice, that’ll be nice for you, and I say all right you can do this too. I stand up, fold up the blanket, wrap the dog up well in the wool blanket. I can’t see my dog any more. I pick up the bundle, hold the bundle in my arms. I walk over to the open bedroom door, go out into the hall, to the stairs. Have to just do it. Not wait till it’s dark. Doesn’t matter what happens, I need to bury my dog. I go downstairs, slowly, step by step. I’m in the downstairs hall. I open the front door with one hand, pressing the dog against my chest with the other, and go out. I cross the porch and go down into the garden. I look at the pile of dirt. I hear a car, look up, a car drives by down the main road. I go into the garden. I go over to the grave, bend down, carefully lay the dog in the grave on top of the red roses. I straighten up, look down into the grave, and I can’t see the dog, just the blanket. I turn away. I stand with my back to the grave and I notice a raindrop. I say: Looks like it’s starting to rain. I look at the sky and see that the sky has grown dark and I see that the fjord has got dark and restless. Get the dirt back into the grave, then, before the rain comes. Time to do that. Can’t wait any longer, now, can I? Time to do it. I go down into the basement, get the shovel. I go over to the pile of dirt, put the shovel into the dirt, look down into the grave, at the wool blanket, and I say it’s got to be done, this is what you do, and then I lift the shovel, drop the earth onto the blanket and I say you deserved better than this and I put the shovel into the pile again, lift the shovel, drop earth down into the grave. I take another shovelful. I say: I know that we’ll see each other again, I know it. I feel more raindrops, more and more raindrops come down, and I take another shovelful, and another. I stand and shovel and now it’s really raining. I need to finish the shovelling soon then. I can’t stand here shovelling when it’s raining like this. I shovel and shovel. I look down into the grave and all I see is dirt. It’s raining on the dirt. I shovel in more. I see that there’s less and less dirt in the pile. And it is just a small grave, it’s not so big that it needs that much shovelling. I shovel in more. I see that there’s a small mound of earth on the grave now. I’ve shovelled it all back in. Well that was fast, I say. I’m sure no one saw me either, I say. And then I try to scoop up the earth that’s lying on the grass, I take some and sprinkle it on top of the pile of earth on the grave. I straighten up, lean on the shovel, look at the grave. I say: That’s that. I raise my hand to my hair, push my hair out of my face, and feel that my hair has got wet. I say: Nothing else, that’s it. I look down at the main road and the neighbour’s there. My neighbour is standing by the side of the road looking at me. I hadn’t noticed that my neighbour had come, but now here he is standing by the side of the road again. I never see him this often usually, weeks can go by between each time, but now the neighbour is down by the side of the road again and looking up at me. I nod at my neighbour, he nods at me. Now it’s really raining and the neighbour is standing in the rain, dressed in an ordinary jacket. And we can’t just stay standing outside in weather like this. There’s no way. We can’t stay out in weather like this, I have to just put down the shovel and go back into the house. I go down into the basement, it’s good to get indoors, I put the shovel down and I softly say to myself it’s over, nothing more to do, that’s it, and I leave the basement and the rain hits my face. I stand in the rain outside the basement door and I look down at the main road, the neighbour’s walking up the drive, walking slowly, with small steps, hunched over. My neighbour’s coming over again. Now why is he doing that? He was just here, we walked up the road together, we’ve already talked today. What does my neighbour want? I should probably wait for my neighbour, I can’t just go inside now. I see my neighbour walk slowly up the drive. I see my neighbour breathing har
d, struggling up the path, but he’s getting closer. I’ll need to say something to him in a second, I can’t just stand here. I look at my neighbour.
