Chapters (27)
- Copyright Notice
- BOOK ONE The Umbrella
- The Umbrella
- The Cat
- My Wife Doesn’t Dance
- His Mother
- Queen of the Night
- One Morning in a Residential Neighborhood
- A Nice Boy
- Life’s Persistence
- Evening
- Depression
- BOOK TWO The Trouble with Happiness
- The Knife
- The Method
- Anxiety
- The Mother
- A Fine Business
- The Bird
- The Little Shoes
- The Best Joke
- Two Women
- Perpetuation
- The Trouble with Happiness
- Also by Tove Ditlevsen
- A Note About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
And they took her hands and danced around her, until she lost her breath and sat down laughing, clapping her hand over her mouth as if it were the utmost foolishness. Just think if he could see her now!
‘I can’t stay,’ she said to Henny, who was pregnant again and looked warm and happy around her eyes. ‘I just popped in, and since he was sleeping, I thought –’
‘Fine, fine,’ said Henny. ‘Now you just sit right down there. Relax, dear. Take a break.’
And the room was so bright; it was the sunshine. There was a sewing machine, and there were clothes everywhere, and she really didn’t know why, but she started crying. Then she blew her nose with an awful blast; then she started laughing and couldn’t stop.
‘Ow,’ she said, ‘my belly hurts. You know, you’re right, Henny. It’s in my belly. It’s bubbling right up.’
And Henny actually had tears in her eyes too. Henny went over and put her arms around her, and some of the icy crust melted, and it was soft and bright inside her for a moment, and she would remember that for the rest of her life. She had never felt anything like it. She was only visiting her sister, whose husband she couldn’t stand because there was so much noise and laughter around him.
‘Now listen,’ said Henny, ‘you can’t keep going on like this. He’s got you frightened out of your wits. Don’t you think we see what’s happening?’
‘But,’ she said, at a loss for words. She was offended, and she had to go home. ‘Sweet Henny,’ she said, ‘what do you mean? I’m just a bit tense. He doesn’t do anything to me. It’s just that night job. Poor thing, he has a hard time sleeping during the day. And if I only had a cat –’
Now she was talking nonsense. She really shouldn’t mix a cat up with this appalling accusation. She should put Henny in her place, and yet she said it anyway, as if Henny hadn’t said any of that rubbish:
‘Just a little cat, a soft, warm kitten, purring quietly. It could lie in my lap and purr all day long, Henny. Do you think you can get me a cat?’
‘Have you asked him?’
‘No, but I was just about to today. I’m going home to ask him right now. You mustn’t think I’m afraid of him.’