Aliss at the Fire Read online

  OTHER WORKS BY JON FOSSE

  IN ENGLISH TRANSLATION

  Melancholy

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  Aliss at the Fire

  I see Signe lying there on the bench in the room and she’s looking at all the usual things, the old table, the stove, the woodbox, the old paneling on the walls, the big window facing out onto the fjord, she looks at it all without seeing it and everything is as it was before, nothing has changed, but still, everything’s different, she thinks, because since he disappeared and stayed gone nothing is the same anymore, she is just there without being there, the days come, the days go, nights come, nights go, and she goes along with them, moving slowly, without letting anything leave much of a trace or make much of a difference, and does she know what day it is today? she thinks, yes well it must be Thursday, and it’s March, and the year is 2002, yes, she knows that much, but what the date is and so on, no, she doesn’t get that far, and anyway why should she bother? what does it matter anyway? she thinks, no matter what she can still be safe and solid in herself, the way she was before he disappeared, but then it comes back to her, how he disappeared, that Tuesday, in late November, in 1979, and all at once she is back in the emptiness, she thinks, and she looks at the hall door and then it opens and then she sees herself come in and shut the door behind her and then she sees herself walk into the room, stop and stand there and look at the window and then she sees herself see him standing in front of the window and she sees, standing there in the room, that he is standing and looking out into the darkness, with his long black hair, and in his black sweater, the sweater she knit herself and that he almost always wears when it’s cold, he is standing there, she thinks, and he is almost at one with the darkness outside, she thinks, yes he is so at one with the darkness that when she opened the door and looked in she didn’t notice at first that he was standing there, even though she knew, without thinking it, without saying it to herself, she knew in a way that he’d be standing there like that, she thinks, and that his black sweater and the darkness outside the window would be almost one, he is the darkness, the darkness is him, but still that’s how it is, she thinks, it’s almost as though when she came in and saw him standing there she saw something unexpected, and that’s what’s really strange, because he stands there like that all the time, there in front of the window, it’s just that she usually doesn’t see it, she thinks, or that she sees it but doesn’t notice it somehow, because it’s also that his standing there has become a kind of habit, like most anything else, it has become something that just is, around her, but now, this time, when she came into the room she saw him standing there, she saw his black hair, and then the black sweater, and now he just stands there and looks out into the darkness and why is he doing that? she thinks, why is he just standing there like that? if there was anything to see out the window now she could probably understand it but there isn’t anything to see, nothing, just darkness, this heavy almost black darkness, and then, maybe, a car might come by, and then the light from the car’s headlights might light up a stretch of the road, but then again not many cars come driving by and that’s just how she wanted it, she wanted to live somewhere where no one else lived, where she and he, Signe and Asle, were as alone as possible, somewhere everyone else had left, somewhere where spring is spring, fall is fall, winter is winter, where summer is summer, she wanted to live somewhere like that, she thinks, but now, when the only thing to see is darkness, why would he just stand there looking out into the darkness? why does he do that? why does he just stand there like that all the time, when there’s nothing to see? she thinks, and if only it was spring now, she thinks, if only spring would come now, with its light, with warmer days, with little flowers in the meadows, with trees putting out buds, and leaves, because this darkness, this endless darkness all the time now, she can’t stand it, she thinks, and she has to say something to him, something, she thinks, and then it’s as if nothing is what it was, she thinks, and she looks around the room and yes everything is what it was, nothing is different, why does she think that, that something is different? she thinks, why should anything be different? why would she think something like that? that anything could really be different? she thinks, because there he is standing in front of the window, almost impossible to separate from the darkness outside, but what has been wrong with him lately? has something happened? has he changed? why has he gotten so quiet? but, yes, quiet, yes, he was always a quiet type, she thinks, whatever else you can say about him he’s always been quiet, so that’s nothing out of the ordinary after all, it’s, it’s just how he is, that’s just the way he acts, that’s just how it is, she thinks, and now if only he could turn around and face her, just say something to her, she thinks, anything, just say anything, but he keeps standing there as if he never even noticed her come in

  There you are, Signe says

  and he turns to her and she sees that the darkness is also in his eyes

  I guess I am, yes, Asle says

  There’s not much to look at out there, Signe says

  No nothing, Asle says

  and he smiles at her

  No just darkness, Signe says

  Just darkness yes, Asle says

  Then what are you looking at, Signe says

  I don’t know what I’m looking at, Asle says

  But you’re standing there in front of the window, Signe says

  I am, Asle says

  But you’re not looking at anything, Signe says

  No, Asle says

  But why are you standing there then, Signe says

  Yes I mean, she says

  Yes are you thinking about something, she says

  I’m not thinking about anything, Asle says

  But what are you looking at, Signe says

  I’m not looking at anything, Asle says

  You don’t know, Signe says

  No, Asle says

  You’re just standing there, Signe says

  Yes I’m just standing here, Asle says

  Yes you are, Signe says

  Does it bother you, Asle says

  It’s not that, Signe says

  But why are you asking, Asle says

  I was just asking, Signe says

  Yes, Asle says

  I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just asking, Signe says

  Yes, Asle says

  I’m just standing here, yes, he says

  A lot of times when someone says something they don’t really mean anything by it, probably, he says

  Probably almost never, he says

  They just say something, just to say something, that’s true, Signe says

  That’s what it’s like, yes, Asle says

  They have to say something, Signe says

  They have to, Asle says

  That’s how it is, he says

  and she sees him stand there and sort of not entirely know what to do with himself and then he raises one hand and lowers it again and then he raises his other hand, holds it halfway in front of him, and then raises the first hand again

  What are you thinking about, Signe says

  No nothing special, Asle says

  No, Signe says

  I guess I, Asle says

  Yes I, he says

  and he stands there and he looks at her

  I, he says

  I, I, yes well, I’ll just, he says

  You, Signe says

  Yes, Asle says

  You’ll, Signe says

  I, Asle says

  I guess I’ll go out onto the fjord for a while, he says

  Today too, Signe says

  I think so, Asle says

  and he turns back to the window and again she sees him stand there and be almo
st impossible to separate from the darkness outside and again she sees his black hair in front of the window and she sees his sweater become one with the darkness outside

  Today too, Signe says

  and he doesn’t answer and today he’ll row out onto the fjord again, she thinks, but the wind is really blowing, and it probably won’t be long before it starts to rain, but does he care about that, whatever the weather is he goes out in his little boat, a small rowboat, a wooden boat, she thinks, and what’s so nice about rowing out on the fjord in a little boat like that? it must be freezing cold, and the fjord just there, with its water, its waves, maybe there might be something nice about it in the summer, rowing out on the fjord when the fjord is sparkling blue, when it glitters all blue, then maybe it’s tempting, when the sun is shining on the fjord and the water is calm and everything is blue upon blue, but now, in darkest autumn, when the fjord is gray and black and colorless and it’s cold and the waves are high and rough, not to mention in winter when there’s snow and ice on the seats of the boat and you have to kick at the rigging to get it loose, get it free of the ice, if you want to free the boat from its moorings, and when snow-covered ice floes are floating on the fjord, why then? what’s the appeal of the fjord then? no she just doesn’t understand it, she thinks, to put it bluntly, she thinks, she doesn’t get it at all, it is a total mystery to her, and if it was only every now and then that he went out onto the fjord, to fish maybe, to set out nets or something, but no, every single day he rows out onto the fjord, sometimes twice a day, in the dark, in the rain, in rough water, every month of the year, does he not want to be with her? is that why he always wants to go out onto the fjord? she thinks, what other reason could there be really? and hasn’t he changed recently, he is so rarely happy now, almost never, and he is so shy, he really is, he doesn’t want to see people and he turns away if anyone does come and if it ever happens that he does have to talk to someone he stands there and doesn’t know what to do with his hands, doesn’t know what to say, he stands there and feels sick with embarrassment, everybody can see it, she thinks, and what is the matter with him? she thinks, he was always a little like that, a little withdrawn, a little as if he thought of himself as always being a lot of trouble for other people, as upsetting other people just by being there, as a nuisance, an obstacle to what this or that other person wanted, as if he didn’t understand, and it’s getting worse and worse, before he could at least be around other people but now not anymore, now he goes off to be by himself the second anyone other than her appears

  You’re going out onto the fjord, that’s what you’re thinking, Signe says

  I’m not thinking anything, Asle says

  Not thinking anything, Signe says

  No, Asle says

  I’m not thinking anything, he says

  I’m just standing here, he says

  You’re just standing there, Signe says

  Yes, Asle says

  What day is it today, Signe says

  Tuesday, Asle says

  It’s a Tuesday in late November in 1979, he says

  The year’s going by fast, Signe says

  Unbelievably fast, Asle says

  It’s a Tuesday in late November, Signe says

  Yes, Asle says

  and he steps away from the window and he goes to the hall door

  You’re going, Signe says

  Yes, Asle says

  Where, Signe says

  Just out for a while, Asle says

  Yes well no one’s stopping you, Signe says

  Yes, Asle says

  and she sees him go over to the stove, he takes a log and he bends down and he puts the log in the stove and then he stands up and looks at the flames and he stays standing like that for a while and looks at the flames before he goes over to the hall door and she sees his hand on the door handle, as though with a small hesitation, a lingering, and should she say something? or is it he who should say something? but neither of them has anything to say and then he pushes the handle down

  There isn’t something you’re, says Signe

  No no, says Asle

  and he pulls the door toward him, goes out, and it is as if he wants to turn to her and say something to her, but he just shuts the door behind him, she thinks, and there is nothing to say, and he just opened the door and walked out, she thinks, but then again there are no problems between them, everything is good, they really are the closest couple you can imagine, the two of them, they never say anything to hurt each other, and he probably doesn’t even know, she thinks, what good he can do for her, he can be so unsure of himself, not knowing what he should say or do, but there’s not any resentment of her in him, she’s certainly never noticed any, she thinks, but then why would he want to be out on the fjord all the time? in that little boat he got himself, a little wooden boat, a rowboat, she thinks and she sees, lying there on the bench, herself standing there in the middle of the floor in the room and then she sees herself go over to the window and stand there and look out and now there is a little light outside, she thinks, standing there in front of the window, now it has gotten as light as it can probably get at this time of year, it’s brightened up so much that you can see the sky in its gray and black, and the pale gray mountain on the other side of the fjord, now you can see that too, she thinks, but down below on the big road, what’s that gleaming there? who’s that standing there? who’s that? and who are the people walking there? is it she herself standing down there? and does she look scared? desperate? as though she is dissolved and in the process of disappearing altogether? does she really look like that? she thinks, who is that? she thinks, but no, she is standing right here, in front of the window, she is standing here and looking out, so why did she get it into her head that she was standing down there on the big road, as though dissolved? why see something like that and think something like that? no it can’t be, she thinks, because she’s standing here, here in front of the window, and she’s looking out, but she can’t stay standing like this, here in front of the window, after all she stands here so much, she just stands like this almost all the time, stands and looks out the window, and sometimes she looks down at the big road, sometimes at the little road, that’s what they called it, she thinks, the little road, to go with the big road, it was supposed to sound kind of cute, or maybe it was just to have a name for the road, and so it stayed the little road, that’s what they called it, the road that went down to the big road from the old house, their home, where they live, the old house, the oldest parts of the house are several hundred years old, and then it was added onto, here and there, and she herself has lived here for more than twenty years now, no, such a long time? can it really have been so long? she thinks, and so it must be twenty-five years or so since she met him for the first time, since she saw him come walking up to her, with his long black hair, and there and then, it was really like that, there and then it was basically certain that he and she would be together, it was really like that, she thinks and she looks out at the big road winding there along the fjord, a thin line, and she can’t see him anywhere, she thinks, and then she looks at the path that runs from the big road down to the bay and the boathouse, and to the landing, and then she looks at the fjord lying there, always the same, always changing, and then she looks at the mountain on the other side of the fjord, so steep, plunging straight down somewhere between black and gray from the sky’s light movements that are somewhere between gray and white, down to the line of trees edging the fjord, and now the trees are black too, and it would be so nice if they were green again, shining green, she thinks and she looks at the mountain again, and, she thinks, it is as if the mountain down there was breathing out, no she really has to stop it now, thinking something like that, the mountain breathing out, that doesn’t make any sense, a mountain exhaling, she thinks, but still it is sort of like that, like the mountain was exhaling out there as it fell further and further down to the place where the trees start and then foothills and meadows, and houses, here a
nd there a house scattered around, and the places where a couple of houses are standing right next to each other, and down on the fjord she can see the narrow stripes, that one is the big road winding back and forth, almost down to the landing, and then back up away from the fjord, farther on, before it winds around the fjord, worn out and exhausted, and disappears for good, that’s how it is, and now it is almost all black, that’s how it is now, in late fall, and that’s how it is all winter long, she thinks, but in spring, in summer, it’s different then, then everything can be together like blue and shining green and then the sky and fjord can face each other and both will be the bluest blue, and both can glow on the headland, yes, that’s how it was, and that’s how it will be again, she thinks, but she can’t stay standing in front of the window like this, she thinks, why does she do that all the time? and now she mustn’t think what she has thought so many times before, that she might just as well do that as do anything else, she thinks, instead she stays standing and she looks at a place in the middle of the fjord and then she loses herself in looking out at that place and she sees, lying there on the bench, herself standing there in front of the window and he too, she thinks, he too stood there so many times, just like she now sees herself standing there, he too stood there like that in front of the window, like she now sees herself standing, before he disappeared and stayed gone, gone forever, he often stood like that and looked and looked, and the darkness outside the window was black and he was almost impossible to tell apart from the darkness out there, or else the darkness out there was almost impossible to tell apart from him, that’s how she remembers him, that’s how it was, that’s how he stood, and then he said something about how he wanted to go out on the water for a little while, she thinks, but she never, or almost never, went with him, the fjord was not for her, she thinks, and maybe she should have gone with him more often? and if she had been with him on that evening, then maybe it never would have happened? then maybe he would be here now? but she can’t think like that, that won’t get her anywhere, she thinks, she never liked being out in a boat, never, but he liked it, he just rowed out onto the fjord as much as he could, all the time, every single day, often twice a day, she thinks, and that he would just stay gone, disappear, never come back, just be gone and that she would be left here, alone, since they had never had children, the two of them, him and her, it was just him and her, she thinks, he was here, and then he was gone, disappeared, he walked up to her, with his long black hair, she had never seen him before and then he just came walking up to her, and then, yes, then, well she did wait a little while, but then she ran to him, she thinks, and then she stayed with him, living in his house, she thinks, stayed together with him, for many years it was like that but then as suddenly as when he had once come walking up to her he went away from her and now it’s been many years since she’s seen him, no one sees him, he is just gone, he was there and he disappeared, went away, away forever, but what was it he said before he went out that day when he disappeared? what did he say before he left, did he say something? something about going out onto the fjord for a little while, maybe? that’s what he always used to say, something about how he wanted to row out onto the fjord in his boat? maybe he said something like that, that he wanted to do a little fishing, maybe, something like that, he probably said something totally ordinary, something he said all the time, the usual words and sentences, the ones that always come up, what people always say, he probably just said that, she thinks and she looks at the window and she sees herself standing there in front of the window and looking out and then she sees herself walk across the room and she sees herself go and pick up a log, bend down and put it in the stove and then she sees herself stand back up and look at the hall door and it opens and then he is standing there in the doorway, and he comes into the room, lets the door close behind him