by Jon Fosse
Come into the living room, I say.
I don’t know, she says.
I start walking down the hall, I open the living room door, go in, and sit down in the armchair. I look at the window, rain is running down the window. I hear her come into the room, she shuts the door behind her. She comes walking across the room, goes and sits down on the chair that is still pulled out from the living room table. What does she want? Why did she come over? I look down. Maybe she’s found my dog? What does she want?
You’ve probably heard, she says.
I look at her.
Heard about the killing, she says.
I just look at her.
You’ve heard that the man by the bend in the road has been killed, the one who killed your dog.
I look at her.
Haven’t you? she says.
I look down. She said the man by the bend in the road has been killed, the one who killed my dog. Why is she asking me about that? And why was he killed?
Yes, someone killed him, I say.
Last night, she says. His wife wasn’t home, so it was one of the children who found him.
I look down.
It’s horrible, she says.
I hear her say that it’s horrible the man at the bend was killed. And why is she telling me that? What does she want? Why is she saying that? There’s no reason she should be telling me that. It’s got nothing to do with me. She doesn’t need to tell me that.
You don’t need to say that, I say.
What are you saying?
I hear her ask me what I’m saying.
It’s horrible, she says.
Yes.
And then for his daughter to find him, she says. He must have looked awful. Stabbed through the heart with something. Lots of blood.
It was the guy who killed my dog, I say.
One of the last things he did, she says.
Um-hm.
You didn’t know? she says.
I look at her, she looks at me. I shake my head.
But I heard you went by there earlier today, she says.
I nod.
So you did know, she says.
Who said I’d been there? I say.
My neighbour.
I look down.
It wasn’t you who killed him, was it?
I look down. She is asking me if it was me who killed him and I didn’t kill anyone. Why would she ask me if I killed him? What does she mean by that? She must mean something by asking that?
It wasn’t you? she says.
Again she’s asking me if I killed him. She needs to stop asking me that. Why is she asking me that? What does she want? It wouldn’t have been me who killed him.
The police are going to go from door to door, she says. They’ll come to your house too.
So, somebody killed the guy by the bend, huh, I say.
It wasn’t you, was it?
She keeps saying over and over that I killed the man by the bend in the road. He was stabbed through the heart, blood everywhere, it happened last night and his daughter found him.
No, I say.
Is that true? she says.
I nod.
I didn’t kill him, I say.
It was you, she says.
I stand up, go over to the window, see the rain running down the window. I stand in front of the window, the rain is beating against the dirt. Rain and more rain against the dirt. And my boat is floating and tugging at the line, bobbing up and down. The mountains on the other side of the fjord are grey through the rain. Rain and more rain against the dirt. I hear her get up, she comes and stands next to me. The water on the fjord is rough.
Is that your dog you’ve buried in the garden, she says.
I hear her ask me if that’s my dog I’ve buried.
Rain and more rain against the dirt. And where is my dog? He has to come back home to me soon now. Where’s my dog?
I shouldn’t have told you he shot your dog, she says.
Rain runs down the window. Rain and more rain against the dirt.
It was you, she says.
I look at her, shake my head.
I can tell, she says.
I go and sit down in the armchair. I look at her, she’s still standing looking out the window.
It wasn’t me, I say.
But you knew he’d been killed? she says.
Yes.
So why did you tell me you didn’t know?
I didn’t know, in a way.
She looks at me.
Didn’t know in a way? she says. Either you knew or you didn’t know.
Yes well.
It was you?
She comes over to me and stands and looks down at me.
You did it, she says.
I look down, straight in front of me.
Just tell me, I won’t tell anyone.
I nod.
It was you?
Yes.
I hear her walk across the room, open the living room door, go out, close the door. I get up, stand in front of the window, rain is running down the window. I see her go down the drive. She’s walking fast. She doesn’t look up at me. I see her bike standing down by the side of the main road, she takes her bike and starts walking the bike up the road. She walks the bike up the road. I watch her, she’s walking the bike up the road, she doesn’t look up at me, just walks in towards town. And she just wouldn’t let up so I had to say yes, that I killed him. But I didn’t kill him. I had to say yes, she just wouldn’t let up. What else could I do? She kept asking me, over and over. There was nothing else I could do. But I didn’t kill anyone and where is my dog? My dog needs to come home soon. And I need to clean up the house. I need to wash my sheets, they’re covered with blood and I can’t lie down and go to sleep in bloody sheets. There’s no way. I need to change the sheets and then I have to do the laundry. I have to get rid of the dog’s water bowl, get rid of the food bowl. I have to put his leash away too. And I have to clean up. I get up, go push in the chair next to the living room table. I take the coffee cup from the table, bring it into the kitchen. I take the thermos and the coffee cup that are on the round table and carry them into the kitchen. I go into the living room, look around, the blanket is messy on the sofa so I go over to the sofa, fold the blanket up, put it down at the foot of the sofa. I look around the room, it’s clean. I go out into the hall, go upstairs. I go into my bedroom. And now the dog isn’t there, now the dog is gone. There’s no dog in the bedroom, just my bed, no dog in the bedroom. And now my dog has to come back home. He can’t stay out so long. The dog can’t just run away like that. I look at the pillow, there’s some blood and a few clumps of hair on the pillow. I pick up the pillow, take the pillowcase off, carefully, so that the clumps of hair fall onto the bed. I pull off the sheet. I wrap the pillowcase in the sheet, put the bedclothes against the wall behind the door. I go back to the bed, take the duvet, unbutton the duvet cover and I take the duvet cover off, put it next to the wall with the other bedclothes, behind the door. I go back into the room, stand and look at the bed, go back over to the bed, put the pillow in place, lay the duvet over the bed. I go to the bedroom door, stop in the doorway, look back into the bedroom, and it looks clean. I go out, shut the bedroom door, go downstairs. Now the dog needs to come back soon. And what’s going on? Now the dog needs to come back home. Where’s that dog? I feel tired. And now I have to go look for the dog. I step into a pair of shoes, go out onto the porch. I look around for the dog, but I can’t see the dog anywhere. Maybe my dog’s disappeared. And that fucker needed to die, I should’ve killed him, tonight I’ll do it. I’ll kill him. I have to kill that bastard. I have an obligation to kill him. I go inside, shut the front door, turn the key, kick my shoes off. I go into the kitchen and see that there are some cups on the kitchen counter. Now I have to wash up, yes. There’s not much to wash up, but still I should probably wash up. I have to. I start to run water into the sink. I stand and watch the water run, when the sink’s full I put the cups and glasses into
it, then I see the dog’s food dish and water bowl in the corner by the fridge, I bend down, pick up the bowls, put them in the sink. I wash the cups and glasses, put them on the counter. I wash the water bowl, put it on the kitchen counter, wash the food dish, put it on the kitchen counter. I see the dishes on the kitchen counter and they can just stay there dripping, I don’t need to dry the dishes right now, it’s not necessary, no. The dishes can just sit there dripping. And now my dog needs to come back home. I go out into the hall, take his leash down from the hook where I used to hang it, put it in my back pocket. I go back into the kitchen. I pull out the plug in the sink, the water runs out and I turn the tap on, rinse the sink. I take some soap and wash my hands, splash water on my face, wash my face, dry it. I take a look around the kitchen, it looks clean. I feel tired, maybe I’ll go lie down on the little bench, take a little nap. I think that’s what I’ll do. The house should be all clean now. I go into the living room, over to the bench, pick up the blanket, lie down on the bench, spread the blanket over me. I pull the leash out of my back pocket, squeeze it between my fingers, stroke the leash, put it up to my cheek, press the leash to my cheek, and then put the leash down next to me. I lie still. I stick my hand into my pocket, take out a bloody clump of hair, rub the clump of hair between my fingers. I hear the rain hit the roof, the window. And now my dog will be back home soon. I hear the rain. I feel tired. Rain and more rain against the earth. And now I need to take a little nap. And then my dog will come back to me.
LITTLE SISTER
TALL GRASS
He was standing outside the house and he could see the boat. It was tied up down at the shore. It was a pretty boat, white and pretty. And the fjord was so blue, so smooth, that the mountains had lain down on the water and now they were lying there, green and black and brown. He couldn’t see a single boat out on the fjord, maybe it was still too early in the day? No one was awake but him. Not Mother, not Father, not his sister. He was the only one up, at least that’s how it seemed to him. In the whole wide world only he was awake, he thought.
He was standing in his pyjamas looking down at the fjord. He breathed in deeply, breathed out slowly. Why was everyone asleep on such a beautiful morning? he thought. The air was so soft, the morning so bright and at the same time a little hazy. But it’s boring just standing around, he thought. He wanted to do something fun. Was there anything to look forward to doing today, he thought, there had to be, maybe he’d run down to the shore with Mother or Father or his sister, they could go swimming, or maybe he’d have to think up something himself, he thought, he usually had to think up something himself, and it would be like that today too, he thought, and why not?
Why not? he thinks, and he looks over at the tall grass, all the long blades of grass, green and pointy, and he walks over to the grass and the grass is taller than he is, maybe he should walk into the grass? he thinks, yes, he could do that, he thinks, and he steps between the first blades of grass and they hang over his head, green and pointy, and he walks further into the grass and in some places the grass is so high that it towers far above his head, and then, when he’s in the middle of it, he stops and looks through the blades and all he can see are blades of grass, nothing else, as far as his eyes can reach only blades of grass, green blades, and then he sits down and up above him the green grass waves back and forth, it’s like he has a roof up there, a green roof over his head, he thinks, and he lies down and he lies there and he looks up at the sky; it is not a bright blue, it’s a soft and yet dark blue, that’s what it looks like, and far, far up above is a soft cloud, almost not even a cloud any more, just a few wisps of cloud moving up above his head the whole time and divided into lots of parts by the blades of grass above his head, and the blades of grass move gently, and then he looks at one single blade of grass, watches it move slowly back and forth in front of the little cloud, back and forth, gently, the blade of grass moves gently back and forth, and he lies there and looks and looks and then his eyes fall shut and he breathes in and breathes out, in, out, he breathes perfectly calmly, in, out, and he feels like a little wave beating against the shore, in onto the shore, back out, in and out, in and out, and in… and out, in… and out, in… and out, and then there’s only his breath under the high grass, under the sky, near the fjord.
DON’T CRY
Why is Mother yelling and shouting like that, he hasn’t done anything bad, he only looked at the fjord and the sky and the wisps of cloud up there in the sky and the blades of grass over his head, so why is Mother shouting so loud and why is she scared and why is she saying he’s not allowed to go out in his pyjamas, he must never again go out in the middle of the night when everyone else is still asleep, he mustn’t ever do anything like that again, or else she won’t ever be able to sleep, your Mother won’t ever get a good night’s sleep, now really, lying down in the grass and just going to sleep, Mother says, and pulls him so hard by the arm that it hurts, but he doesn’t want to cry. She, his mother, mustn’t see him crying just because he looked at the fjord and the sky and a blade of grass in front of a cloud that was almost nothing but a couple of wisps.
THE GRASS CUTTER
The big heavy red grass cutter shakes up and down, it just won’t stand still on the field, it hums and bangs and shakes and hops up and down and the metal blade out in front of the grass cutter shivers. The grown-up’s not wearing a shirt and he takes the handle and swings the grass cutter back and forth above the ground and right away the blades whir like crazy and he puts the blades back onto the ground and then releases the brake he’s been holding and with a powerful jerk the grass cutter gouges into the ground and speeds ahead, and wow, he’s jerked a little as the grass cutter yanks him forwards, and the tall blades of grass are now lying flat behind the grass cutter, every which way, tufts and loose blades of grass, a couple of stiff tufts of grass are still standing down by the edge of the field, and there’s soil between the tufts. And that terrible noise from the grass cutter the whole time. And it shakes and the ground shakes and he looks at the grass cutter clattering away down the hill.
WHERE SHOULD WE GO
His sister asked if they really were allowed to, Mother did say they shouldn’t go anywhere, not over the fence, not through the gate, not across the street, never across the street, and never ever down to the water, that’s what Mother said, but they could go down to the shore, couldn’t they? his sister had asked and he’d said of course they could, it’s not dangerous there, they’d been on the shore with Mother or Father so many times, hadn’t they, what was dangerous about that? he said and then his sister said Mother was mad when she woke up and he wasn’t there, she called his name, she shouted it, then she ran out and shouted his name and he was lying outside in the grass with nothing on but his pyjamas, and he wasn’t allowed to go out in only his pyjamas, Mother said, and she said he mustn’t ever do anything like that, he must never go out when everyone was still asleep, Mother said, he must never do that again, she said, he thinks, and then he’s taken his sister’s hand and they stood there and then he said we’re going down to the water now, he can’t listen to this horrible grass cutter any more, he said, and then his sister asked if he could bring her little pink plastic basket with them, and even though he didn’t want to run around with the basket he did it anyway. Because if he carried the basket there were cups and plates in the basket and a little yellow mug, and his sister said she wanted to collect wild strawberries from the side of the road in the mug, if he carries the bucket she can hold her doll in her other hand, his sister said. He took the little basket in one hand and his sister’s hand in his other hand, and his sister’s big doll swung from his sister’s other hand, the doll was so big that its feet dragged in the sand as they walked down the street, very seriously, step by step.
A MAN WITH A BIG BELLY
Then a man comes walking towards them on the street, he’s wearing big dark sunglasses and a straw hat and he swings his arms and says So, who do we have here, they’re so cute, how nice
to run into such a cute pair of people, the man says, and his sister grips his hand tighter and he looks up at the tall man and the man’s belly is so fat that he and his sister would both fit inside it, he thinks. Well now, it’s nice to run into you, very nice. Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend? the man asks. No, we’re brother and sister, he says. Ah, brother and sister, the man says, and his sister nods so frantically that it makes his hand shake up and down. Well now, you’re an adorable pair of little people, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such adorable people, he says, and his sister grips his hand as tight as she can, her brother’s hand.
FOUR YEARS OLD AND THREE YEARS OLD
The wife of the big man with the straw hat is not as big as he is. She’s short and when she walks she has to support herself on something, a chair or a walking stick or the big man’s arm. Now she’s sitting in a recliner, and he and his sister are sitting on the sofa, and his sister has put her hand on his leg, he doesn’t like that, having her hand there, but he can’t just push it off either. The big man’s wife is bending over them. She’s asked them what their names are. She’s said they’re cute kids. She’s asked how old they are, and he’s said that he’s four and his sister has just turned three. And you’re allowed to go out on walks all by yourself? the woman asked, and he said Yes.
POKE
They hear the big man laughing and talking loudly out in the front hall and his sister looks at him and he hears the big man say Yes, they’re here, both of them, they were standing on the side of the road, probably wanting to have a picnic, they had a basket with them and they’d picked some strawberries, but now they’re here, the big man says, and the man’s wife pokes his sister in the belly and says what a pretty girl she is and the big man says Yes, that’s fine, but it’s nice to have the little guys over for a visit, he hears the old man say and then he says something like Aha, you’re coming right away, good.
