‘Five more minutes,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t you have given me five more minutes?’
‘How was I supposed to know?’ I said. ‘From where I was standing it didn’t look like you were making much progress.’
‘Were you watching?’
‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘I was just kidding. But now I want to sleep. You should too, if you ask me. You’ve got a tough day with Jøran ahead of you.’
Bjørn snorted. ‘He’s too conceited to believe she would want anyone else.’
‘He’s all right, I think,’ I said.
‘Yes, I do too,’ Bjørn said. ‘But Amanda’s more than all right.’
He laughed. I lay down on the bed and fell asleep in an instant, without having found the answer to the enigmatic and somewhat vexing question: why would Amanda want Bjørn? What had he done to deserve that?
On the last evening in Lucerne the bus stood with its engine idling outside the hotel after dinner. Everyone was going out on the town. The destination was a secret. It turned out, however, to be our casino. While the other juniors wandered around slack-jawed, Bjørn and I sat nonchalantly at a table in the striptease venue drinking white wine.
‘I got her number today,’ Bjørn said. ‘She said I should phone her when we were home.’
‘Why on earth would she do that?’ I said. ‘Has she finished with Jøran?’
Bjørn shook his head. ‘No. They’re together. But aren’t you happy for me?’
‘Yes, she’s nice.’
‘Nice? She’s great. Absolutely great. And she’s twenty-four!’
We finished our wine and went for a look round. I lost sight of Bjørn fairly soon and cruised around on my own. By the door to the big hall, on a sudden impulse, I looked in. What’s going on in here? I asked a small bald man with glasses. It’s a conference, he answered. Who for? I said. Biologists, he said. OK, I said. Interesting! He withdrew, I went in, people were gathered around the small tables, but far fewer than earlier in the week. On one of them lay a little green and white card. I went over and inspected it. It was a name tag. I pinned it to my lapel and walked towards the big door. It opened onto a conference hall, rows of seats in a wide gradually ascending semicircle around a speaker’s podium. A man was talking below. Stills were being shown on a screen behind him. The room was slightly over half full. I walked down past a few rows, entered one, people stood up just as in the cinema, and I sat down, crossed my legs and concentrated on the speaker. Now, I said to myself in a low voice. What do you reckon? How very interesting! After twenty minutes, during which I spent as much time looking at the other people in the audience as the speaker, whose grating microphone voice filled the whole auditorium and hung like a constant annoying thought in the background, I got up and went back to the disco. Most of the junior players were inside watching the striptease, it appeared. I went in too and when Jøgge spotted me he came rushing over.
‘Can I borrow some money?’
‘How much do you need? I’ve got some but not much.’
‘A thousand? Have you got that much?’
‘What are you going to do with a thousand kroner?’
‘Actually I need two thousand. That’s what champagne costs.’
‘Two thousand for champagne? Are you out of your mind?’
‘If you buy an expensive drink for one of the women you’re allowed to talk to them. And if you buy champagne you can go off with them.’
‘And that’s what you want to do?’
‘Too right. If only I had the money! Have you got it or not?’
He looked around.
‘Come on. Please. I need two thousand kroner. I’ve never slept with a woman. I’m eighteen years old and I’ve never had sex. You have. But I haven’t. And it costs two thousand kroner. Come on. Please, please.’
He went down on his knees in front of me. Held up his hands in supplication.
And, even worse, he was serious.
‘I want to sleep with a woman. That’s all I want. And I can do it here. I don’t give a shit if they’re prostitutes. They’re unbelievably beautiful, all of them. Come on. Show some mercy. Harald! Ekse! Bjørn! Karl Ove!’
‘I haven’t got that much,’ I said. ‘I may have enough for a little chat. .’
‘This is serious!’ Jøgge said, back on his feet. ‘This is my chance. There aren’t any places like this in Kristiansand.’
‘Sorry, Jøgge. Would have liked to help you,’ said Bjørn.
‘Same here,’ said Harald.
‘For Christ’s sake, come on,’ Jøgge said.
‘You’ll have to try the old-fashioned method,’ Bjørn said. ‘Chat someone up. The place is full of girls.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ Jøgge said.
‘Come on. Let’s go in and see the action,’ Bjørn said, dragging Jøgge with him.
I had never experienced such an alcoholic high as the one I had that night. It was like a cool green river flowing through my veins. Everything was in my power. As we stood at the bar I noticed a girl on the dance floor, she might have been a year or two older than me, with blonde hair and a beautiful, yes, an unbelievably beautiful face. When her gaze met mine for a second time I didn’t hesitate, I trotted down the two steps to the dance floor. At that moment the music she had been dancing to changed and, along with three other girls, she walked over to a wall. I followed her. I stopped and said I had seen her dancing and she looked fantastic. You looked amazing, I said. She smiled and said thank you and looked at me with her head tilted. I asked her if she was American. Yes, she was. Did she live in the town here? No, she lived in Maine. They all came from Maine. Where was I from? A small barbaric country up north, I said. We are in fact the first generation to eat with a knife and fork. I turned and nodded to the other members of the team, who were watching me from the bar. I’m with them, I said. We’re football players on a training camp here. Do you want to dance?
She nodded.
She wanted to dance!
We glided onto the floor. I put my arms around her. The feeling of her body against mine provoked an electric storm in my head. Round and round we went, sometimes I pressed her close to me, sometimes I held her away from me and looked into her eyes. What’s your name? I whispered. Melody, she whispered. Melody? I repeated. No, Melanie! she said with a smile.
When the song was over I thanked her and joined the others, who were still hanging round the bar.
‘How did you manage that?’ Bjørn said.
‘I just asked. Had no idea it was so easy. It’s crazy.’
‘Go back to her. You can’t stay here!’
‘OK. I’ll just have a little drink. Just my bloody luck this is our last night.’
The bus was supposed to be outside waiting at three. It was half past two. I had no time to lose. Nevertheless I hesitated, although I could still feel her, a kind of phantom joy, her breasts, oh her breasts, the feeling of them against my body, the light pressure, the arousal, I had all that inside me, and if I went down there now it would disappear in a new situation, which might not go that well. I knocked back two glasses of wine in quick succession and walked over again. Her eyes lit up when I appeared. She wanted to dance. We danced. Afterwards we stood in the corner chatting, the others were beginning to make tracks towards the exit, I said I had to go, she wanted to go with me, I took her hand, we stopped outside, a stone’s throw from the bus, which was waiting with the engine running. Where do you live? I asked. She said the name of a hotel. No, not here, but in Maine, I said. I’ll write to you. May I? Yes, she said. Then she told me her address. I had nothing to write with. Did she? No. Hurry up, came shouts from the bus, we’re going now. I’ll memorise your address, I said. Say it again. She said it, I repeated it twice. You’ll get a letter, I said. She nodded and looked at me. I leaned forward and kissed her. Put my arm around her and pressed her into me. Now I have to go, I said. All the best to you in your barbaric country, she said with a smile. I paused by the bus door and waved to her, then clambered on board.