Back The Trouble with Happiness
Chapters (27)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. BOOK ONE The Umbrella
  3. The Umbrella
  4. The Cat
  5. My Wife Doesn’t Dance
  6. His Mother
  7. Queen of the Night
  8. One Morning in a Residential Neighborhood
  9. A Nice Boy
  10. Life’s Persistence
  11. Evening
  12. Depression
  13. BOOK TWO The Trouble with Happiness
  14. The Knife
  15. The Method
  16. Anxiety
  17. The Mother
  18. A Fine Business
  19. The Bird
  20. The Little Shoes
  21. The Best Joke
  22. Two Women
  23. Perpetuation
  24. The Trouble with Happiness
  25. Also by Tove Ditlevsen
  26. A Note About the Author
  27. Newsletter Sign-up

Stepping back into the living room, she blinked slightly at the light, and her gaze sought out Kai’s. Now he was elated, totally happy, the center of the group’s attention. He was talking non-stop, his thin fingers outlining curves in the air when he wanted to explain something. All the bottles and glasses were empty. The tablecloth was stained with red wine and gravy, the air was thick and close from the smoke. She sat down, without anyone seeming to notice. In any case, they didn’t take their eyes off Kai – neither the men nor the women. She felt a sudden urge to close her eyes and go to sleep. A dark-haired woman, whom she recognized from the summer, when they had held study circles in psychology once a week, smiled at her and made room next to her on the divan. ‘You look tired, Lulu,’ she said sympathetically. Appalled, Lulu straightened up on her seat and smiled vacantly. ‘I’m not tired at all,’ she said quickly, and in the same breath, ‘Isn’t it great that Kai is doing so well?’

They both looked at him. Then the young woman said warmly, ‘He’s smarter than any of us. It’s a shame if he doesn’t get the most out of his ability.’

Lulu didn’t answer. Was it her fault if he didn’t get the most out of his ability? Had her loving and all too fertile body pulled him down into the banal and boring? The psychoanalyst was supposed to free him from guilt, but who was going to free her? She was still looking at her husband. His thin, well-proportioned frame, his burning eyes, the words streaming from his beautifully arched lips. Yes, he was happy now, she thought; these people idolize him; he doesn’t need me. And after they’ve left, it occurred to her, he will keep me awake the rest of the night talking about the party, and I will have to say that his friends are absolutely the most fabulous people – everything he loves I have to admire too, while also knowing that I don’t measure up to them – but I am all alone with the baby I’m carrying. If he mentions it at all, it’s as an increased expense – a bill from the butcher, or an oppressive creditor.