The Wooden Chair

by Rayne E. Golay

  Mira’s voice broke in over Leini’s thoughts, startling her. “This is the way you’ll look if you don’t have the operation. Debbie is living proof.” She spoke in a loud voice, a bit shrill, the way she did when she’d had a drink.

  Leini took in the table. Sure enough, by Mira’s coffee cup sat a tumbler with an amber-colored liquid at the bottom. Scotch, Leini guessed, served while she herself was busy talking to Debbie. The icy-cold fist of fear clutched at her insides—she hoped Mira wouldn’t become mean, like she often did when she had a drink or two.

  Anger at Mira’s manipulation ricocheted in Leini’s entire body. She bit back words of accusations that Mira took her along to show her what she might look like without surgery. She was embarrassed on Debbie’s behalf, that Mira put her on display to impress on Leini the horrors of her future if she didn’t agree to the operation. Everything about this situation made her cringe with rage and shame.

  “You’re lucky if you can have the operation,” Debbie said. “You should do it. I wish I’d had the chance when I was younger.” When Leini didn’t answer, she added, “I see well, but I know I look horrible. Think about it.”

  “That’s all I can think about,” Leini said.

  * * *

  Night after night after she met Debbie, terrifying dreams woke Leini. In one, she resembled an ogre, the right side of her face deformed, the eye dangling on her cheek. In another, her eyes were ghostly white balls, the irises having disappeared. The dreams were so real, as soon as she awoke, she hurried to look in the mirror to make sure her eyes were still there.

  Her grades plunged. Papi took a look at the report card and pulled her closer. He held the card aloft, shook it. “This isn’t like you. Your grades are usually excellent. What’s wrong, my girl?”

  Leini kept her eyes downcast, ashamed to show him such a poor result. She blinked against the tears.

  Papi hugged her to him. “I know something’s bothering you. Care to tell me?”

  “The operation. I’m afraid. And if I don’t have it I’ll be a monster.” Her voice broke. “What if I lose my eyes?”

  “Leini, honey, didn’t the doctor tell you that nothing…”

  She tore free of his embrace and rushed from the room, careened along the corridor and slammed the door to her bedroom, relieved Papi didn’t follow her. She also regretted her bad behavior toward him. I should be nice to Papi; he’s the only one here who gives one hoot about me.

  After the visit with Debbie, Mira often took stabs at her, darts she spewed, sure they would hit their mark and hurt. She didn’t miss an opportunity to remind Leini about her eyes.

  “Just think,” she said on one occasion. “After the operation you won’t need those unbecoming glasses. You’ll be pretty, even beautiful.” Hurtful, throwaway sentences that never failed to cause Leini pain.

  As well as she could, Leini tried to avoid her, but one day Mira stood by the front door waiting for Leini when she returned from school. She guessed Mira was going to put pressure on her when Papi wasn’t around.

  “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready,” Mira said. “I want to talk to you.”

  Can’t mean anything good. Leini’s heart beat with heavy, painful throbs. Her mouth was so dry the lips stuck to her teeth. She washed her hands, ran a comb through her hair, opened the history book on tomorrow’s lesson. When she didn’t dare dilly-dally any longer she joined Mira, taking a seat across the coffee table from her, avoiding eye contact.

  “You’re unbelievably stubborn,” Mira said. “Any other girl would be grateful to have this operation.”

  Leini didn’t hesitate for an instant. “Good—let any other girl have the operation in my place.”

  “You’re disrespectful and impertinent, young girl.” Mira’s eyes were dark and hard. “I’m thinking of what’s best for you. Imagine having to go through life looking like Debbie.”

  Leini didn’t answer. Anxiety trapped her chest in an iron cage. She struggled to pull enough air into her lungs. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling, blinked to halt the tears that threatened. She wouldn’t give Mira the satisfaction to see her cry.

  Mira lit one of her innumerable cigarettes. “I don’t want my daughter to look like a freak.”

  “Debbie doesn’t look like a freak,” Leini said. “She has a bad eye, is all.”

  “If you don’t take this opportunity, you may end up having those ugly eyes.” Mira’s voice grew hard and persuasive. “You’ll have no friends. Boys won’t want to be seen with you. You’ll look repulsive, and you’ll be alone.”

  What she says is silly. What difference would an eye operation make? I always feel alone.

  Mira puffed on her cigarette. “I’d be ashamed to have a daughter who’s so ugly.”

  With a snap of her head, Leini turned to gaze at her. If she gave in and had the operation, would Mira like her more? Maybe she’d be nicer. If she was pretty, had perfect eyes, maybe Mira would love her? Her need for Mira’s love was like a hunger, and the thought of having eyes like Debbie’s terrified her.

  Mira sat next to her, hand clutching Leini’s upper arm. “Listen, girl, do it for me. I want you to be pretty. Maybe you’ll even look a little like me.” She patted Leini’s hand. “You have everything to gain, nothing to lose. What do you say?” Mira didn’t come right out and say she’d love her if her eyes were pretty, but Leini hoped that was what she meant.

  “Will you like me if I have good eyes? If I’m beautiful like you?”

  “Of course I will.” Spoken without an instant’s hesitation.

  Leini crossed her hands, squeezing them hard between her knees, and spoke the words.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Mira sat still. “Say it again. Just to make sure.”

  Leini took a deep breath. “I’ll have the operation.”

  “Hey, that’s wonderful. Oh, I’m so happy. You’ll see, everything—”

  Leini cut her off. “I don’t want to talk about it. I said I’ll do it. It’s enough.” Jumping to her feet, she left on the run. In her room, she slammed the door so hard the window rattled. With a soft sob she sank to the floor with her back against it. Sitting cross-legged, arms limp in her lap, she cried from desolation and fear and a bottomless sadness.

  Hidden deep inside was the hope she always nurtured—with a good pair of eyes she would be beautiful. Then Mira would love her.

  While she did her homework, Leini heard Mira talk to Papi on the phone. Her voice vibrated from triumph. “Just like that, she came to me and said she’s had time to think. She wants the operation.”

  Blistering heat of anger cursed through Leini at the blatant lie. I didn’t ask her for the operation. I’m having it only because it will make me beautiful, so Mira will love me.

  Returning from work in the evening, Papi gave Leini the LP records of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto, one she loved and had hoped to have one day.

  “Those are for being my courageous girl, and this,” he said, handing her a potted hyacinth, “is because I love you and want you to know I’ll be with you all the way.”

  The perfume of the hyacinth filled her room. Papi always knows to do the right thing. She sighed, love for him like a song.

  * * *

  Grandpa and Grandma Britta didn’t express an opinion about the operation. They let Leini know Mira told them it was a possibility, but they also insisted nobody should force her if she wasn’t willing to undergo the procedure. The doctor wanted for her to decide on her own.

  “The choice is yours, Leini,” Grandma Britta said during one of Leini’s frequent visits, shortly after she met Debbie. “You’re the one to have the operation. Only you can decide whether or not to go through with it. You must do what feels right.” She caressed Leini’s hand. “If you have the operation now and something goes wrong, the damage may be permanent. Later will not be too late, my pet.”

  Grandpa smiled and ruffled her hair playfully. “Whatever you decide will be all right by me.”


  Smoothing Leini’s hair, Grandma Britta’s touch was feathery and tender. “This is so important, sweetie. Think about it; don’t let anybody—nobody, you hear?—talk you into it. Whether you have the operation or not, Grandpa and I love you.”

  Everybody—Papi, Karl and now Grandma Britta—imply the “somebody” forcing me is Mira. Why don’t they say so straight out? Why don’t they tell her to leave me alone?

  The day after Mira broke Leini’s will and made her give in to having the operation, Mira called Doctor Kallio for an appointment. Then she called Grandma Britta to announce the news that Leini decided to have the surgery. Leini overheard only Mira’s side of the conversation. She deduced Grandma Britta wanted to come over right away.

  “It’s late,” Mira said. “Tomorrow would be better. Or the next day.” After listening for a moment, she replaced the receiver in the cradle. She huffed, voice shaking with indignation. “Your grandparents insist on coming to visit right now.”

  Leini hovered by the front door, impatient for them to arrive. She hoped they approved of her decision, afraid they wouldn’t. When she heard the elevator hum she opened the door to let them in. Leini clung to them close to tears from anxiety. “Grandma Britta, Grandpa. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  They joined Papi in the living room. Mira brought cups of coffee and gingerbread biscuits on a tray. For Leini there was a mug of “silver tea”—hot water with milk and honey.

  Feeling Grandpa’s stare, Leini glanced at him. His eyes were searching, intense. “Are you sure this is what you want, my princess?”

  She tried to shrink into the upholstery. “I guess so, Grandpa.”

  “This is important, Leini girl. Let’s talk about it.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about anymore.” The corners of Mira’s mouth pulled down in irritation that her authority was perhaps being questioned. “Leini’s made up her mind, thank God. Now we can get on with the arrangements.” She bounced her foot up and down. “We have an appointment with Doctor Kallio next week.”

  Leini slipped her hand in Papi’s and held on tight.

  Grandpa continued to gaze at Leini. “Does the operation frighten you?” As if he hadn’t heard Mira.

  “Not really,” Leini said.

  Grandma Britta hadn’t uttered a word. She sat quiet, sipping her coffee, studying Leini’s face with her kind gray eyes. “Are you afraid something will go wrong afterwards?”

  Leini nodded, the effort to smile making the small muscles in her cheeks burn. She was relieved Grandma understood. Again her tight throat threatened to choke her as she fought the tears.

  “Nonsense.” Mira’s sharp voice rang loud. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. She’ll be in excellent hands.”

  Papi leaned forearms on knees, staring at Mira. “Have you no empathy at all? Leini is facing a lot of unknowns. The hospital, spending time away from her family with foreign people are enough to frighten any child. She’s facing an operation with a difficult recovery. Of course she’s afraid—she has the right to be. If you don’t understand it, there’s something wrong with you. Now quit minimizing this like it’s the case of a mild cold.”

  Mira opened her mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it. Instead, she took deep puffs of her cigarette, roses blooming on her otherwise pale cheeks.

  Next to her on the couch, Papi draped an arm around Leini’s shoulder. “She’s entitled to her feelings. It’s normal, even healthy to be afraid, considering that this operation concerns her and her eyes.” He hugged her close. “You’re very brave, Papi’s proud of you.”

  With some effort, puffing from exertion, Grandpa stood from the soft cushions of the armchair, muttering about the pain in his knees. He pulled Leini to her feet to wrap his hands around hers and held them pressed to his heart, eyes never leaving her face.

  “I promise you, Leini, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. You’ll have a private night nurse for as long as there’s the smallest risk of anything going wrong. I’ll make sure you get the best treatment and care.” He took her in his arms. “Grandma Britta and I will be with you all the time. And Papi, too. I’m proud of you, my princess.” He glanced at Mira, sitting on the edge of the chair, her back straight, shoulders back, busy stirring her coffee. He planted a kiss on top of Leini’s head.

  “God willing, you’ve made the right choice.”

  * * *

  Papi opened the door to Leini’s room and gazed at her as she reclined on the couch. The poetic notes of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto on the record player was barely perceptible, the room in half light seeping in through the window.

  “May I come in, my Leini?”

  She loved this about Papi; he always asked, didn’t take things for granted where she was concerned, just because she was a child. Seated next to him, her hand in his, legs curled under her, she felt special because she knew Papi loved her.

  “It’s only midafternoon. Why aren’t you at work?”

  “You didn’t go to school because of all the tests at the clinic, so I decided to come home early, spend some time with you as this is your last day at home. Tomorrow morning you’ll be entering the clinic.”

  She nodded, wishing she hadn’t agreed to the operation or could put it off to some distant future date.

  “How are you doing, my angel?”

  With a shrug she pulled a lock from behind her ear to twirl it around her fingers. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Would you like to go to a movie tonight? Take your mind off tomorrow, you know.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t you phone Paula, see if she would like to come visit later in the day.”

  Leini’s heart made a little leap of joy. “Yes, Papi. That’s a great idea.” She glanced at the clock on her desk. “I’ll wait to call her until she’s home from school.” She leaned her cheek against his shoulder while she played with his fingers. “Thanks for thinking of it.”

  * * *

  Hovering by the front door, Leini threw it open as soon as she heard the bell.

  “Hi, Paula. You made it.”

  Paula took off her outer garments in the hall. “Wow. I feel a ton lighter without those clothes.”

  Playing a game of checkers in Leini’s room, they nibbled on the mix of raisins and nuts, sipping the hot chocolate Tatta had prepared.

  Paula glanced at Leini. “Hey, are you asleep? It’s your move.”

  Leini’s attention wandered, fear squeezing her insides. Tomorrow night at this time I’ll be in the clinic. A frisson shook her. She made her move. “Sorry, Paula. I’m awake, just thinking of something else.”

  “Thinking about the operation?”

  Shrugging, Leini sat with knees pulled to her chin, hands wrapped around her legs. “The whole thing, the clinic, the operation ….” She closed her eyes against the tears she didn’t want Paula to see.

  “My ma says you’re terribly courageous to go through with it. By the way, Ma and Pop sent you their best regards. I’ll come visit you with Ma, if it’s okay with you.”

  Another new element—Leini hadn’t thought of visitors. In her mind the operation was a very private thing. It concerned only her. She hadn’t considered friends would want to visit her. Looking at Paula from under her brow, Leini sighed.

  “That would be real nice, but let’s see how things are after the operation. That’s going to be the really tough part.”

  Paula smiled. “Tomorrow’s our birthday.” She rummaged in the rucksack she always carried. “This isn’t a real birthday present. We’ll celebrate when all this is over.” She handed Leini a box of chocolates. “Pop brought this from Sweden. Think of me every time you have a piece. They’re yummy.”

  Heat rose to cover Leini’s face. She didn’t have a gift for Paula. In fact, she’d forgotten all about their birthday. “Thanks heaps. Say thank you to your pop. I’m sorry I didn’t think of giving you a gift, but I’ll get you something nice once I�
�m home again.”

  In the hall, as she prepared to leave, Paula gazed at Leini. “It’s great how brave you are. I’ll be thinking of you.”

  In bed that night she remembered Grandpa’s words a few days ago, God willing she’d made the right choice. Eyes closed, hands pressed to her chest, she whispered, “Please, let me be beautiful.”

  Chapter 14

  Helsinki, November 1947

  In the cab, Leini sat straight as a rod, hands limp in her lap. Beside her, Mira kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. She lit a cigarette, took one puff then crushed it in the ashtray only to light another moments later.

  Leini gazed out the window at the dusky midday sky. It hit her like a sledgehammer that she could as well have been on another continent, very disconnected from everything ordinary. She’d give anything to be normal like the busy pedestrians rushing here and there as they went about their everyday business,

  The cab pulled in front of the brightly illuminated clinic entrance, its warm light a false welcome. While Mira paid the cabbie, Leini sat motionless, staring at the glum day. She thrust hands deep in the pockets of her warm winter coat.

  With an elbow Mira poked her in the ribs. “We’re here. Get out. Hurry now.”

  At the registration desk, Mira signed some papers, exchanged a few words with the intake administrator, smiled with tight lips and led the way to the elevator.

  “What’s wrong with you, girl? Usually your tongue never stops flapping, but you haven’t said a word since we left home.”

  With a deep sigh, Leini shook her head. She had nothing to say.

  The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, and Mira hurried Leini to the nurses’ station. She gave their name, and a nurse led the way to the last room at the end of a long corridor.

  Leini stopped in front of the wide gray-green door, staring transfixed at the name tag inserted in a small white metal frame: BAUMAN, LEINI RUTH.