I filled my glass with red wine and drank half of it in one draught, and then I went for a piss. I found myself in a long corridor, which I followed to the end without seeing a toilet anywhere. I walked back and down some stairs. Now I found myself in a cellar of some kind, completely white with a dazzling light and some sacks piled against the wall. Back up I went. Was it here? Another corridor, carpeted this time. No. I came out by the reception desk. Toilet? I said. Beg your pardon? said the receptionist. Sorry, I said. But do you know where the toilet is? He pointed to a door on the other side of the room without looking at me. I lurched towards it, had to insert an extra step to stop myself falling, opened the door, leaned against the wall, here it was, thank God. I went into one of the cubicles and locked the door, changed my mind, unlocked it, the toilet was empty, wasn’t it? Yes, no one around. I hurried over to the washstand, unzipped, pulled out the todger and pissed in the sink. The yellow stream filled the whole basin for a brief instant before being sucked down the plughole. Once I had finished I went back into the cubicle, locked the door, sat down on the toilet seat, rested my head on my hands and closed my eyes. The next second I was gone.
At one point I seemed to hear someone calling my name, Karl Ove, Karl Ove, I heard, as though I was on some mountain plateau, I thought, and someone had been sent out in the mist to find me. Karl Ove, Karl Ove. Then I was gone again.
Next time I came round it was with a jolt. I hit my head against the cubicle wall. The toilet was completely silent.
What had happened? Where was I?
Oh no. This was the wedding day! Had I fallen asleep? Oh no, I had fallen asleep!
I hurried out, washed my face in cold water, walked past reception and into the dining room.
They were still there. They stared at me.
‘Where on earth have you been, Karl Ove?’ dad said.
‘I think I dozed off,’ I said, sitting down. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Yes,’ Unni said. ‘We’ve just finished. Would you like to have something now? We’re waiting for dessert.’
‘Dessert’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’m not that hungry.’
‘There’ll be coffee and brandy afterwards,’ dad said. ‘You’ll pick up then, you’ll see.’
I finished the wine in my glass and refilled it. My head ached a bit, not much, it was as if a door had been opened a fraction, out streamed the pain, and I knew the wine was doing me good, it seemed to be closing the door again.
When we left it was no later than half past nine. I was drunk, but not as drunk as when I arrived, the sleep had diminished the effect of the alcohol, which the wine and brandy had not managed to replenish. But dad’s drunkenness had escalated prodigiously, he was standing with his arms around Unni waiting for the taxi, the notion of walking five hundred metres had not occurred to him, and it was only with great difficulty that he managed to squeeze himself onto the black leather seat.
Dad fetched some beer from the fridge when we got home. Unni put out some peanuts in a bowl. Yngve had taken a turn for the worse, he had a temperature and was lying on the sofa. Kristin was sitting in the chair next to me.
Unni brought a blanket and spread it over Yngve. Dad stood some distance away watching.
‘Why are you wrapping the blanket round him?’ he said. ‘Isn’t he big enough to do it himself? You’ve never wrapped a blanket round me when I’ve been feeling a bit off colour.’
‘Oh yes, I have,’ Unni said.
‘Oh no, you haven’t!’ dad almost shouted.
‘Calm down now,’ Unni said.
‘That’s rich coming from you,’ dad said, and went into the kitchen, where he sat down in a chair with his back to us.
Unni chuckled. Then she went in to pacify him. I drank half of the beer in one go, belched up the froth and, realising that Kristin was there, swallowed a couple of times with my hand in front of my mouth.
‘Sorry,’ I said.
She laughed. ‘That’s definitely not the worst thing that has happened this evening!’ she said, so low that it could only be heard around the table, and then laughed in an equally muted tone.
Yngve smiled. I went to get another beer from the fridge. As I passed the newly-weds dad got up and went back into the living room.
‘I’m going to ring grandma,’ he said. ‘They didn’t even send me so much as one single flower!’
I opened the fridge door, took out a beer and then, suddenly, I was back in the living room reaching for the opener on the table.
Yngve and Kristin were staring awkwardly into the middle distance. Dad was speaking in a loud voice.
‘I got married today,’ he said. ‘Have you two realised? It’s a big day in my life!’
I threw the bottle top onto the table, took a swig and sat down.
‘You could at least have sent some flowers! You could at least have shown that you care about me!’
Silence.
‘Mother! Yes, but, Mother, please!’ he shouted.
I turned.
He was crying. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. When he spoke his face contorted into an enormous grimace.
‘I got married today! And you didn’t want to come! You didn’t even send any flowers! When it was your own son’s wedding!’
Then he slammed down the receiver and stared into space for a few moments. Tears continued to run down his cheeks.
In the end he got up and went into the kitchen.
I belched and looked at Unni. She got to her feet and ran after him. From the kitchen came the sound of sobbing and crying and loud voices.
‘What do you reckon?’ I said after a while, looking at Yngve. ‘Shall we go out on the town while we’re at it?’
He sat up.
‘I’m not well,’ he said. ‘Think I might have a high temperature. Best to go home. Shall we ring for a taxi?’
‘Without asking dad first?’ I said.
‘Without asking dad what?’ dad said from the doorway between the two rooms.
‘We were thinking of slowly making a move,’ Yngve said.
‘No, stay for a while,’ dad said. ‘It’s not every day your father gets married. Come on, there’s more beer. We can enjoy ourselves a bit longer.’
‘I’m not well, you know,’ Yngve said. ‘I think I’ll have to go.’
‘What about you then, Karl Ove?’ he said, gazing at me through his glazed, almost completely vacant eyes.
‘We’re sharing a taxi,’ I said. ‘If they go, I have to go.’
‘Fine,’ dad said. ‘I’ll go to bed then. Goodnight and thanks for coming today.’
Straight afterwards we heard his footsteps on the stairs. Unni came in to see us.
‘That’s how it is sometimes,’ she said. ‘Lots of emotions, you know. But you go. We’ll see you soon and thanks for coming!’
I got up. She gave me a hug, then she hugged Yngve and Kristin.
Outside I had to sit down on the kerb, I was much too tired to stand up for the minutes it would take the taxi to arrive.
When I woke up in bed the next day there was something surreal about all that had happened, I wasn’t certain of anything, other than that I had been more drunk than I had ever been before. And that dad had been drunk. I knew how drunkenness appeared in the eyes of the sober and was horrified, everyone had seen how drunk I had been at my father’s wedding. That he had also been drunk didn’t help because he hadn’t shown it until right at the end when we were alone in his flat and all his emotions were flowing freely.
I had brought shame on them.
That was what I had done.
What good was it that I only wanted the best?