Karl Knausgaard - My Struggle - Book Two

‘She’s a bit shy, isn’t she?’ the woman said.

I smiled politely, lifted Vanja and carried her into the courtyard outside. She pointed to some pigeons pecking at crumbs under a table. Then she looked up and pointed at a seagull sweeping past in the wind.

‘Birds,’ I said. ‘And look over there, behind the windows. All the people.’

She glanced at me, then stared at the people. Her eyes were alive, as expressive as they were open to impressions. When I looked into them I always had a sense of who she was, this very determined little person.

‘Brr, it’s so cold,’ I said. ‘Let’s go in, shall we?’

From the steps I saw Cora had gone over to our table. Fortunately she hadn’t sat down. She was standing behind the chair with her hands in her pockets and a smile on her lips.

‘How big she is!’ she said.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘How big is Vanja?’

Usually Vanja was proud when she could answer the question by stretching her arms above her head. But now she just leaned her head against my shoulder.

‘We’re on our way home. Aren’t we?’ I said, looking at Linda. ‘It’ll take half an hour to get a coffee now.’

She nodded.

‘Yes, we have to go soon as well,’ Cora said. ‘But I’ve just arranged with Linda to pop round one day. So I’ll see you soon.’

‘That’s nice,’ I said. I sat Vanja on my lap and started to put on her romper suit. Smiled at Cora so as not to appear stand-offish.

‘What’s it like being a house husband?’ she asked.

‘Dreadful,’ I replied. ‘But I’m hanging in there.’

She smiled.

‘I mean it,’ I said.

‘I got the message,’ she said.

‘Karl Ove’s hanging in there,’ Linda said. ‘That’s his method in life.’

‘It’s an honest answer, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘Or would you rather I lied?’

‘No,’ Linda said. ‘I’m just sorry you dislike it so much.’

‘I don’t dislike it so much, ’ I said.

‘Mum’s waiting over there,’ Cora said. ‘Nice to see you. And see you again soon.’

‘Nice to see you too,’ I said.

As she left I met Linda’s glare.

‘I didn’t say anything out of place, did I?’ I said, and put Vanja in the buggy, tightened the belt and kicked up the lever on the wheel.

‘No,’ Linda said with such vehemence that I knew she meant the opposite. Tight-lipped, she bent down and lifted the buggy when we came to the steps; tight-lipped, she walked beside me out of the courtyard and onto the road to the centre. It felt as if the wind was blowing straight into our bone marrow. Around us, everywhere was teeming with people. The bus stops on both sides were packed with shivering people clad in black, not unlike birds from a certain angle, the ones that hunch together and stand motionless on some cliff in the Antarctic, staring into the sky.

‘It was so lovely and romantic yesterday,’ she said at length as we passed the Biological Museum and caught fleeting glimpses of the gleaming black canal between the branches. ‘And then there’s nothing left of it today.’

‘I’m not the romantic type, as you know,’ I said.

‘No, what type are you exactly?’

She wasn’t looking at me as she said it.

‘Cut it out,’ I said. ‘Don’t start on that stuff again.’

I met Vanja’s eyes and smiled at her. She lived in her own world, which was connected to ours through emotions and perceptions, physical touch and the sound of voices. Alternating between worlds, as I was now, being cross with Linda one moment and being happy with Vanja the next, was strange; it felt as though I was leading two quite separate lives. But she had only one, and soon she would be growing up into the second, when innocence was a distant memory and she understood what was going on between Linda and me at moments like this.

We reached the bridge over the canal. Vanja’s head moved back and forth from one passer-by to the next. Whenever a dog came along or she saw a motorbike she pointed.

‘The thought that we might be having another child made me so happy,’ Linda said. ‘It did yesterday and it does today. I’ve been thinking about it almost non-stop. A shot of happiness in my stomach. But you don’t feel the same way. That makes me sad.’

‘You’re mistaken,’ I said. ‘I was happy too.’

‘But you aren’t now.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘But is that so strange? I’m not in such a great mood.’

‘Because you’re at home with Vanja?’

‘Among other things, yes.’

‘Will it be better if you can write?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then we’ll have to start Vanja at a nursery,’ she said.

‘Do you mean that?’ I asked. ‘She’s so small.’

It was the middle of the rush hour for pedestrians, so on the bridge, which was a bottleneck on the route towards Djurgården, we were obliged to walk slowly. Linda held the buggy with one hand. Even though I hated that, I said nothing, it would have been too petty, especially now, during our discussion.

‘Yes, she is much too small,’ Linda said. ‘But there’s a waiting list of three months. By which time she’ll be sixteen months old. She’ll be too small then as well, but…’

We turned left when we came to the other side and walked along the quayside.

‘What are you actually saying now?’ I asked. ‘On the one hand, you’re saying she should go to a nursery. On the other, you’re saying she’s too small.’

‘I think she’s too small. But if it’s absolutely imperative for you to work then she’ll have to go anyway. I can’t exactly drop my course.’

‘There has never been any question of that happening. I’ve said I would look after Vanja until the summer. And that she can start nursery in the autumn. Nothing has happened to change that.’

‘But you’re not happy.’

‘Yes, but that’s not perhaps such a big issue. At any rate, I don’t want to be Mr Nasty and send my child to the nursery too early. Against Mrs Nice’s will. For my own benefit.’

She stared at me.

‘If you could choose, what would you do?’

‘If I could choose, Vanja would start on Monday.’

‘Even though you think she’s too small?’

‘Yes. But this is not only my decision, I believe?’

‘No, but I agree. I’ll phone on Monday and put her name on the waiting list.’

We continued walking for a while in silence. To our right were the most expensive and exclusive apartments in Stockholm. It was impossible to have a more prestigious address. The buildings reflected this. The façades gave nothing away, nothing penetrated the walls, they could be best likened to castles or fortresses. Inside were vast apartments containing twelve to fourteen rooms, I knew that. Chandeliers, nobility, massive quantities of money. Lives that were foreign to me.

The harbour was on the other side, pitch black to the edge of the quay, white froth on the tips of the waves further out. The sky was heavy and dark, the lights from the mass of buildings on the other side dots in the vast greyness.

Vanja was whimpering and squirming in the buggy. She slipped down and ended up on her side, which only made her whimper more. When Linda bent forward and pulled her up, she thought for an instant she would be lifted out of the buggy and let out a scream of frustration when that proved not to be the case.

‘Stop for a moment,’ Linda said. ‘I’ll see if we’ve got an apple or something in the bag.’

There was, and the very next second the frustration was gone. Vanja sat happily gnawing at the green apple while we continued towards the ferry.

Three months, that would be May. So I hadn’t gained much more than two months. But it was better than nothing.

‘Perhaps mummy can take Vanja for a couple of days a week as well,’ Linda said.