The Dinosaur Feather(18)

Søren said nothing.

They found a small bar in Vesterbro and got drunk. Henrik grew increasingly raucous, and Søren was desperate to leave when Henrik struck up a conversation with two women at the table next to them. One was called Katrine, she was from Århus, but had lived in Copenhagen for a few years while she was training to be a teacher; her course would finish just after Christmas. She was very dark, like a gypsy, even though she spoke with a strong Jutland accent. What did Søren do for a living? They got talking and, at Henrik’s suggestion, they pushed their tables together. Later they went on to a club that Søren had never been to before. He felt strangely animated, oblivious. It was wonderful. His old life seemed so far away.

At two o’clock in the morning he decided to call it a night and went to find a cab. Katrine wanted to share it. She lived on H. C. Ørstedsvej and could be dropped off on the way. Afterward, Søren could barely remember how they had started kissing. It was so random. When the cab stopped outside Katrine’s block, she invited him in. He nodded and paid the cab fare.

Katrine lived in a two-bedroom attic apartment with coconut mats, plants, and lots of books. She went to brush her teeth and he could have left then, but he stayed, flipping through a book with photographs of churches. She even unloaded her washing machine and hung her clothes out to dry on a rack in the living room, as though she was deliberately giving him a chance to reconsider. He told her about Vibe. His girlfriend, who was in Barcelona on business. Katrine just smiled and said Barcelona was great. He stayed. They made love, and it was wonderful. Different, because she wasn’t Vibe. Søren had been unfaithful to Vibe a couple of times at the beginning of their relationship, but that was years ago. Katrine felt and tasted different.

He stayed the night. The next morning Katrine got up and made toast and coffee for them. It was nice. They didn’t exchange telephone numbers, and Søren went home.

Later that afternoon Søren was racked with remorse, the strength of which he hadn’t believed possible. He took a shower, but it was no good. Henrik telephoned and behaved intolerably. She was hot, wasn’t she, eh? Had he done something about it? Of course he hadn’t. Søren pretended to be offended and ended the conversation. Vibe would be back in three days, and during those three days Søren forced himself to think about having children. His guilt had nothing to do with Katrine; he had already forgotten all about her. He had slept with her because he was stressed about Vibe and the baby business. He had tried to relieve his frustration by doing something completely unacceptable and outrageous. He didn’t want to be that guy. Suddenly it was clear to him: he either had to get Vibe pregnant or he had to let her go so she could have children with someone else.

When Vibe came home, she was happy and relaxed. Søren wondered if she, too, had been unfaithful. In the days that followed, they appeared to benefit from their break. Vibe’s eyes no longer held that hurt expression, and she seemed so absorbed by work that she was far too tired to think about having a baby and their relationship. They spent a lovely Christmas with Knud and Elvira, they cuddled in front of the fireplace and exchanged presents; on New Year’s Eve they hugged each other for a long time when the clock struck twelve. Neither of them spoke, but it felt like a commitment. Søren woke up on the first of January believing the crisis had passed.

Then one evening, completely out of the blue, Vibe said that they had to talk about it. Barcelona had been amazing, inspirational, and when she came back, her work had meant as much to her as in the old days when she had worked late practically every night. But since they had completed their latest project, her life had become humdrum.

“And I can still feel it,” she said, quietly. “I want to have a baby. My body wants to have a baby. I can’t help it.”

Søren sat down in the sofa and put his arms around her.

“Perhaps it’s time for us to go our separate ways,” he said. The tears started rolling down Vibe’s cheeks.

“So you still don’t want to? Never, under any circumstances?” she asked.

“No.”

Shortly afterward Vibe went to bed. She didn’t kiss him goodnight, she just closed the door to the bedroom. Søren stayed behind feeling like a total dick. He didn’t want to have children. The feeling couldn’t be mistaken, but neither could he fathom what lay behind it. Was it about Vibe? Did he want children with another woman, but not with her? No, he didn’t. So what was it all about? He grabbed a beer from the fridge and turned the TV volume to mute. The world was a dangerous place, that was why. Children might die, children did die, he thought, angrily. It wasn’t all romantic, as Vibe imagined. Children were born only to end up in the morgue; young girls, half-naked, bruised, battered, and dead. Teenage boys high on designer drugs, beaten to a pulp by each other, or smashed up in cars or motorbikes driven by their drunk friends. Søren had accompanied countless parents to the morgue. He didn’t want children. When he had finished his beer, his sadness overwhelmed him. They would have to break up, so Vibe could have her child with another man.