It's Fine By Me by Per Petterson Page B

how long we have been standing like this, but my arms ache, and I realise that I have been squeezing him as hard as I can. In my chest there is a pain, and Arvid straightens up and takes a deep breath, there is a whistle in his throat, and I see what caused the pain: it’s the NLF badge on his lapel. I lean towards him and whisper:
    ‘Forget what I said about your beret, it’s just fine.’ But he looks at me as though he has never seen me before, I could have been Christopher Columbus and he my firstIndian, his face is flushed and his eyes are shiny. I turn, and it’s Tommy’s sister standing there.
    ‘What’s your name?’ I say.
    ‘What?’
    ‘What’s your name, for Christ’s sake?’ I’m almost yelling, but she answers calmly:
    ‘Rita. Didn’t you know?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Right. Well, anyway, I heard what you said at the club. It’s true that it was Dole and a few others. Willy just stood watching. Dole’s in there,’ she says and points. We are standing outside Geir’s bar. I look through the window. Dole is sitting at the nearest table with a beer in front of him, it has a golden gleam from the lamp above, and I can see the bubbles from here, and he has a crew cut, like an American marine. He was the first to have long hair at school, and now he has no hair at all. His head is large and round, and he is laughing and telling something funny to someone I cannot see. I turn to Arvid.
    ‘Right, shall we go in then?’ I say a bit roughly, but he just looks at me and has no idea what I am talking about.
    ‘What’s up with him?’ Rita asks. ‘Did you have a fight?’
    ‘He’s upset about his dad. Don’t come with me now.’
    I walk towards the bar door. As I’m about to go in, it’s pushed open from the inside, and one of the local drunks comes staggering out. I stand back, and Dole looks up and sees me through the window. He knows who I am, but not what I want. I push the drunk aside and clear the way, and inside I head straight for the table where Dole is sitting. He is pretty hammered, he grins and says:
    ‘Hello, Audun, old boy,’ but I don’t answer, I just go up to him, lean down and grab his leg and pull. He hits the floor with a bang, the chair tips forward and hits him on the back of the head, the glass is knocked over and all the beer splashes down on his crew cut. He lashes out with the other leg but I skip to the side, and with his ankle in a firm grip, I drag him to the door.
    ‘Fuck you, Audun! Have you flipped or what!’ he yells, and I say nothing, for there is nothing to say, I just drag him along the floor. He flails out on all sides, crashes into chairs and tables, holds on to someone’s foot and shouts:
    ‘For fuck’s sake, help me!’ But no one lifts a finger. I bang open the door with my back, and outside in the square I let go of his leg. He gets to his feet with a groan. Once he has straightened up, I punch him hard in the stomach. I know what I’m doing. I have seen it before. He jack-knifes, and all the beer spurts from his mouth, and it floods out on to the ground between us, and I step away. I stand at the ready. But he coughs and splutters and stares at the tarmac.
    ‘You know what, Audun?’ he mumbles. ‘You’re a dead man.’ And then he opens the bar door and walks in bent double.
    I turn back to the square. Rita is there alone, watching me with a look in her eyes I could have done without.
    ‘Where’s Arvid?’ I say.
    ‘He took off. The wrong way, I think.’
    Right. I don’t know why I did what I did, but I don’t think it was for his sake.
    ‘Right,’ I say, running my fingers through my hair. I look at her. ‘How’s Tommy doing?’
    ‘Fine. He’s much better now. He really is.’
    ‘Good,’ I say, and start towards the stairs.
    ‘Audun?’ she says behind me. I turn round. She is wearing a brown leather jacket that must have been passed down from her father, that’s how it looks, and she seems older now than I’d thought