The Wooden Chair

by Rayne E. Golay

  Papi gazed at Mira. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, the food must have upset my stomach. I vomited every bit I ate.” Mira sat in the recliner, one of a pair with Papi’s, a low coffee table in the space between them.

  So this explains the smell. Leini wondered what food could have made Mira sick, as she only nibbled on a few straws of grated carrot.

  “Again?” Papi asked. “It’s not the first time you’ve vomited this week. Shouldn’t you see a doctor?”

  “Certainly not! You know I have a delicate stomach.” Mira lit a cigarette. “Give me a drop of Scotch to settle me.”

  On the edge of her chair, Leini looked from Mira to Papi. She read disbelief and irritation as Papi creased eyebrows in vertical lines while he kept staring at Mira. He stood and filled a shot glass with the amber liquid. As she took the glass, Mira’s hand trembled. With a snap of the neck she threw her head back and downed the contents in one gulp. With a plop she set the glass on the table.

  “Ahh. I feel better already.”

  Shaking his head, Papi turned away from her. With a glance at Leini he settled in his favorite easy chair and patted the armrest. “Come sit with me. Do you want to talk about your visit to the doctor?”

  Leini sat half on the armrest, half on his lap.

  Catching her hand on its way to twine a strand of her hair, Papi put her palm against his own and folded his fingers over hers. She sneaked her hand into the warm nest of his. Leini leaned her cheek against his. She loved his reddish brown hair, combed off his high forehead, the way it curled on the sides and in the neck. As always, Papi smelled good, of cigar and Bay Rum.

  When Mira was angry with her and nobody was around to hear, she said Leini was the spitting image of Papi. She was happy to resemble Papi. He was tall with broad shoulders, and his hands were beautiful, fingers long, wrists slim. And he was gentle and kind.

  From the corner of her eye, Leini watched Mira pour herself another drink from the bottle on the sideboard. She stood with her back to the room, but from the quick jerk of her head, Leini knew she emptied the glass before she placed it next to the bottle. Mira had a drink “to settle her” almost every night, sometime during the day, too. If it’s normal for grown ups to drink whiskey after dinner, why doesn’t Papi have one? He only drinks when we have company. When Mira asks for a drink Papi gets red in the face, so maybe he doesn’t like her to have Scotch.

  She was puzzled, aware of undercurrents she didn’t understand.

  “Leini?” Papi’s voice startled her.

  “What, Papi?”

  “Want to tell me what the doctor said?”

  “The eye man—”

  “Listen, girl!” Mira’s voice was like the snap of a whip. She rolled the r’s more than usual, the way she did when she’d had a drink or two. “You’re to say ‘the doctor.’”

  “The eye man,” Leini repeated, glaring at Mira, “said he can operate. The operation doesn’t sound like much, but it gets tricky afterward.”

  “And the tricky part frightens you?”

  “I don’t know. I guess.”

  “Did the doctor say it’s urgent?”

  Mira tapped ash from her cigarette. “He said her weak eye will get worse if she doesn’t have the operation.”

  “No, he didn’t. He said there’s no hurry, and he’ll do it only if I agree.”

  “Do you agree?”

  She shook her head, hair swirling around her face. “No, I really, really don’t.”

  “Well, that settles it then,” Papi said.

  Mira uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way. “The girl’s too young to make such a serious decision. We should force her to have this opportunity.”

  “She’s almost nine years old and wise for her age,” Papi said. “She can have the operation later. Maybe the procedure will improve in a few years’ time.”

  Leini pressed her cheek against his, grateful that he understood. “Exactly what the doctor said. He also said I should make up my own mind, not let anybody push me.” Leini stared at Mira, who looked everywhere but at her.

  Mira opened her mouth to argue, but Papi pressed his lips to a thin line, and shook his head. “Enough, Mira. We’ll talk about this later.”

  Hearing the doorbell, Leini slid off Papi’s lap and rushed to open the front door. Karl entered on a current of icy air, overcoat on his arm. He hugged Leini, rubbing his cold cheek against hers before he planted a smacking kiss on her forehead. “How’s my girl?”

  Leini shrugged.

  “What’s with the attitude, Leini? Don’t you talk to me anymore?”

  She couldn’t swallow for the lump in her throat, lodged there from Mira’s stubborn insistence that she should have the operation. With her hand in Karl’s, she walked alongside him into the living room. The strip of lights above the curtain lent the room an intimate atmosphere, in sharp contrast to the tension in the air.

  After greeting Mira and Papi, Karl sat in the couch corner, stroking the seat next to him for Leini to sit.

  Legs curled under her, Leini glanced at his face, tanned from a recent ski trip to the Swiss Alps. He pulled her closer and smiled into her upturned face.

  Tatta brought a tray with cups, a coffee pot and cookies she’d baked.

  Karl glanced from Mira to Papi. “Did I interrupt something? You look upset, both of you, and Leini hasn’t said a word to me.”

  Mira passed the cookies. “Not at all, Karl. We…”

  “In fact, we were discussing whether Leini should have an eye operation or not.” Papi’s firm voice cut her off. He puffed on his cigar, let a stream of smoke seep past his lips. He fastened his eyes on Karl as he gave him the details of Leini’s choices, the pros and cons.

  Mira sucked deeply on her cigarette and dangled one leg over the other. Papi was still red in the face, perspiration beading on his high forehead. Leini pressed her thin frame against Karl’s side, her fingers busy with a strand of hair.

  Karl glanced at her. “Sounds like good news, but from what Papi says you’re dead set against it. Am I right, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, you’re right; I don’t want to do it.” Her voice sounded hoarse in her ears.

  With a loud clatter Mira slammed her cup in the saucer. “Of course you do. The girl’s eyes are growing worse. The operation is a godsend.”

  Papi glared at her. His loud “Harrumph” signaled she’d said enough. “Apparently the post-operative phase is risky. It would demand a lot from Leini. Naturally she’s scared. The doctor said he would operate only if she consented to it without pressure. He needs her full cooperation for the operation to succeed.”

  Karl glanced at Leini. “You’re not sure you’re ready yet. Is that it?”

  “Yes, that’s it exactly. The doctor said there’s no hurry.” She blinked against the tears that tried to pool in her eyes. “I don’t want the operation.”

  Karl pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Removing Leini’s glasses, he dabbed at her eyes. “Leini, please don’t cry. You break my heart when you do.” With a hand under her chin, he raised her face level with his to plant a kiss on her forehead. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll make the right choice in time. If you’re afraid, you’re wise to put it off for now.”

  Mira followed the exchange, her black eyes fixed on Karl, the corners of her mouth pulled down in disapproval. “This is all a lot of nonsense. It’s for us, her parents, to decide about the operation. After all, we know what’s best for her.”

  Before she could get off to a running monologue, Karl interrupted. “Apparently the doctor thinks Leini should have the final say.” Gazing at Leini, he went on. “If you decide not to have the operation, you’re free to change your mind later, but if you decide to go through with it, make sure you do it for the right reason—the only valid reason is that you yourself want it.”

  Leini nodded, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. Relief flooded her; Karl understood her battle with anxiety, but also her want to please Mira. S
o did Papi. She didn’t think she ever wanted the operation, and Karl said it was all right.

  * * *

  In bed, Leini read herself sleepy. She wasn’t supposed to read in bed; it was bad for her eyes, Mira said. After she switched off the light, she was about to fall asleep when her parents’ angry voices reached her through the closed door. Awake now, she couldn’t help but hear them.

  Mira’s voice carried as it shook with anger. “You keep babying the girl.”

  Papi’s voice was lower, but he snapped off every word. “If you considered Leini even a little bit, showed her some warmth and affection, I wouldn’t need to baby her.”

  Papi seldom sounded so angry.

  “Somebody has to teach her discipline. She has to learn to obey her parents…”

  “I take it that ‘obey’ to you means you can manipulate her the way you try to manipulate everybody.” As Papi’s voice dwindled to a murmur, Leini didn’t hear the rest, only: “Don’t force her to have this operation. If she’ll have it, it’s going to be because she wants it, not because you’re on a mission to prove a point.”

  “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you want what’s best for the girl?”

  “The doctor made it clear he’ll operate if she consents. Her consent, that’s what’s best for her, not what you want.”

  Mira was shouting, voice shrill before a fat cough cut it off. “Your daughter! You’re too blinded by her to see what a spoiled brat she is.”

  “I insist you show some consideration for Leini. She’s very vulnerable about her eyes. Try to be a little understanding of her for once.”

  “She shouldn’t be so vulnerable, and I show her as much understanding as she deserves. You cosset her and it’s not healthy.”

  “I love Leini, and you can’t stand it. You’re jealous of your own daughter. You cannot stand to see anything good and beautiful without trying to destroy it.”

  “Hah! You’re sick, Robert. You forget she’s my daughter, too. If I didn’t hold the reins, you would spoil her rotten.”

  “And I tell you to stop tormenting her.”

  In her bedroom, Leini heard Papi’s voice shake. As she wondered what they were doing, she wished they would stop arguing about her. Her mouth was dry, and she couldn’t stop shaking.

  Then Mira’s voice, loud and tremulous. “Don’t you dare hit me, Robert. Don’t you dare.”

  “Just go to sleep. Shut your mouth for once and go to sleep.”

  Leini held her breath, fear blossoming inside till she was sweaty all over. The voices quieted. Leini pulled the covers over her head. Her stomach cramped with pain that Mira would force her to have the operation. She only wants me to have it so people will feel sorry for her because she’s the mother to this miserable girl with the ugly eyes. I think it would make her feel important.

  Grandpa said she should pray when she was worried and afraid. Any prayer would do, he said. She recited “The Lord’s Prayer,” finding comfort in the passage about forgiving and being forgiven. Several times she recited the prayer until she found calm. Her limbs went slack, her eyes closed.

  In her sleep, Leini heard a faint little voice tell her she could get a perfect pair of eyes. Soft as it was, the voice was so close, Leini heard every word.

  “You want to have good eyes? Be a brave girl. Follow the little white bunny rabbit. It will take you to where you’ll find good eyes.”

  The voice was so persuasive, Leini left her bed. By the front door she saw the white bunny on its way to leave the flat. Leini followed it down the stairs and into the street. Then she understood—the bunny was Whitey come all the way from Veteli to help find her eyes so she could see well.

  “Oh, Whitey! I’m so happy you’ve come. You’re very good to help me see.”

  She followed Whitey to the bright sunlit street, empty of people. On its short bunny feet Whitey galloped so fast Leini was breathless from trying to keep up with him. They came to a little park. There on a shiny flat stone a pair of black eyes sat blinking at her. It was so quiet, her breathing sounded loud. As she gazed at the pair of eyes on the stone, they beckoned and winked at her. Leini panted from excitement. In just a few minutes she would have good eyes. Very soon she would be like everybody else.

  “Thank you for giving me new eyes, Whitey. I’ll never forget you did this for me. I’ll see without glasses or double vision.”

  Then something went very wrong. Whitey disappeared. Leini turned her head this way and that, clawing with her hands to get free from the strong arms holding her. It was dark, so very dark. Soon she no longer could see her eyes on the stone.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks; she could hardly catch her breath from racking sobs. “Whitey, come back. Please come back. Show me where my eyes are. Let me have my eyes.”

  * * *

  Alerted by the slam of the front door in the middle of the night, Papi followed Leini into the street. He found her wearing only her nightie soaked from the swirling snowfall, teeth clattering from cold. Her bare feet were bleeding where she’d cut them on the gravel on the slushy streets. He wrapped her in his arms to keep her from further hurting herself.

  The next day, Papi bolted the front door at night with a lock so high Leini couldn’t reach it.

  Chapter 13

  Helsinki, Fall 1947

  Leini enjoyed school and was a good student, but the constant effort to focus tired her eyes. The double vision often brought on a numbing headache.

  Glad to be home, she hurried to her room, taking cautious steps not to make the pounding in her head worse. She tugged the curtains closed. Even the faint winter light burned her eyes, making them water. Intending to rest on the bed, she was about to pull off her dress when Mira opened the door.

  “Why is it so dark in here?”

  “My eyes hurt. I need to lie down.”

  “Get dressed and comb your hair. We’re going to pay a visit to Mrs. Miller. Hurry up, she’s expecting us.” At the door she turned to face Leini. “And open those curtains.”

  What’s this? Puzzled, Leini pulled on a skirt and warm pullover. Mira usually never took her anywhere. In the living room, she found Mira wearing in a severe black dress, a dramatic contrast to her pale face, her scarlet mouth like an open wound. Pointing at a dish covered in wax paper, she took a puff on her cigarette.

  “I made a cheesecake to take to Mrs. Miller. She’ll be pleased, not that she should have it.”

  Leini glanced at her. “Why shouldn’t she have it if she likes cheesecake?”

  Like a content cat, Mira smiled as she patted her flat belly. “Mrs. Miller’s way too fat.”

  Leini didn’t answer, only shook her head in disbelief. Mira thinks everybody’s too fat.

  Adjusting the collar of her dress, Mira patted her hair in place before she pressed the doorbell. Mrs. Miller opened the door, a warm smile adorning her lips, her dark hair shoulder length and shiny as if she spent a lot of time brushing it. She took the cake Mira handed her and lifted a corner of the paper to peek under it.

  “Ahh, I love your cheesecake. How kind of you.” She motioned with her free hand. “Have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable. Anne and her classmate, Debbie, should be through with their homework any minute. They’re cramming for exams.”

  Mira smiled and took a chair at a round table, set with a table cloth embroidered with shepherds and maidens holding a picnic basket between them. The china was fine Bohemian with gold rim, the cups almost too delicate to use. Leini remained standing by Mira’s side. The sight of the finger sandwiches and the colorful pastries made her stomach churn, and the pounding in her temple was growing worse. Something about this situation didn’t feel right. Mira usually never took her along on visits. Why did she drag me along?

  “There you are, girls. Come, say hello.” Mrs. Miller swept her hand in the direction of the two girls. “You already know Anne.” Mrs. Miller pushed a strand of dark hair from her teenage daughter’s smiling face, caressing her cheek. Anne curtsied for Mira
and nodded at Leini.

  Mrs. Miller took the other young girl by the hand. “Mira, Leini, meet Debbie.”

  Mira shook her hand; Debbie curtsied. “You’re kind to take the time to tell us about your experience,” Mira said. “I hope we won’t make the same mistake you did.”

  Leini listened with renewed attention. Something was going on. She glanced at Mira, who kept her eyes averted as she lit a yet another cigarette. What is she up to?

  A tap on Leini’s shoulder interrupted her suspicious questioning. As she turned, she came face to face with Debbie.

  “Hi. Pleased to meet you.”

  Leini was struck speechless when she saw Debbie’s face. Debbie was by far the most beautiful girl she’d seen. Her glossy auburn hair was parted on the left. It fell in a wave over the right side of her face. Leini had never seen alabaster, only read about it in books, but it must be like Debbie’s flawless skin. She had a dimple in a softly rounded chin.

  “Hi. I haven’t seen you before, although I know Anne. We often take the lift at the same time.”

  Debbie smiled, showing white teeth, like pearls, glimmering between naturally red lips. “I haven’t been around much. For the past year I’ve been in and out of hospitals or stayed at home.” Occasionally, she touched her right eye—the one the cascade of hair covered—with a handkerchief.

  “Oh? Have you been sick?” Leini asked.

  “No, but I have problems with my eyes.”

  Glancing at her, Leini’s breath caught in her throat. “You do? Are they better now? You don’t wear glasses.”

  “I wear them only for reading. I would have needed an operation to correct the strabismus, but when I was younger, about your age, there wasn’t the technology there is now. It’s too late now, I’m too old.” She made quotations marks with her forefingers to emphasize “too old.” With a sweeping movement of her hand, she brushed the hair off her face and exposed the right side.

  Leini stared. Shock mingled with fascination. Debbie’s exotic beauty, the perfection of her face was marred by her right eye. It escaped to the far outside corner. Tears ran from it in a constant rivulet, which Debbie kept dabbing at with a tissue. To focus, Debbie bent her head forward, turning it somewhat to the right. The effect was confusing, uncanny. It was also ugly. The left side of Debbie’s face was beautiful—the right was almost grotesque.