The Wooden Chair

by Rayne E. Golay

  Paralyzed with anxiety, she could neither turn to walk away from this terrifying situation, nor did she have the strength to open the door and enter to face the unknown.

  Mira pushed past her and opened the door wide, beckoning for Leini to follow. “This is your room. Come look at it. It’s small but quite nice.”

  With a few reluctant steps, Leini found herself in a cramped room with a narrow metal bed, a nightstand and two straight-backed wooden chairs. The window, framed by limp gray curtains, filled the back wall. At one side of the room Leini, glimpsed a shower stall and a wash basin. She’d never been a patient in a hospital before, but the sterile barrenness of her surroundings fed her sense of impending doom and imprisonment.

  At least this is a private room, as Grandpa promised. I’ll be alone, I don’t have to share, don’t have to talk or listen to anybody else. And there’ll be nobody to hear if I cry or talk in my sleep.

  Taking a deep breath, she walked to the bed and ran her fingers over the pillowcase, slippery smooth to the touch.

  The nurse who’d accompanied them held a white nightgown, starched to stiffness. “Please get undressed and put this on,” she said to Leini. “Doctor Kallio will be with you presently. Then we’ll take a chest X-ray and do some blood tests.”

  Leini wondered about the tests, but was too scared to ask. She did as she was told; she undressed and put on the nightgown. The opening in the back gave her goose bumps when the chill of the room touched her bare skin.

  Mira hoisted Leini’s suitcase onto the bed, popped the locks and removed a package wrapped in white paper, tied with ordinary string. She placed the parcel on the bed. “Here’s something for you.”

  Leini stared at it.

  “Open your present, girl. It’s from Papi and me for your birthday.”

  Too listless to mobilize any enthusiasm, Leini pulled off the string without attempting to undo the knots. Inside the wrapping paper was an inky blue corduroy dressing gown with narrow yellow and red swirls, like streamers.

  “Try it on. I want to see if it fits. If not, I’ll exchange it.”

  Leini hoped it would be too small or too long—anything—because she didn’t like the wide lapels, and the color was so sad. Wearing the gown that tied with a belt around the waist, she went to examine herself in the bathroom mirror. Against the dark no-nonsense garment, her skin had a greenish tinge, the fabric scratchy against her neck.

  “Looks good to me. Happy birthday,” Mira said, a dismissive tone in her voice.

  Leini wasn’t surprised Mira didn’t touch her. No kiss, no caress.

  Some birthday. Nine years old. A tremor shook her. Like a little sparrow, and just as insignificant, she was sad, lost and lonely.

  Mira grabbed her handbag and pulled on the gloves she always wore. Seeing her prepare to leave, terror sank its claws into Leini.

  “Are you leaving, Mira?”

  “Yes. It’s late. I have a job to go to, you know.”

  “But I’ll be here all alone. Doctor Kallio will come soon. Don’t you want to wait for him?” She knew Mira liked the doctor. Maybe the prospect of seeing him would convince Mira to stay. She dreaded being alone in this threatening, foreign world with the strange muted noises coming through the closed door. The smell of medicines and other unknown substances increased her anxiety. Then a new fear sized her. If Mira left now, would she forgot her for good this time? Immediately, Leini calmed, remembering that Papi would never leave her.

  “I’ll see Doctor Kallio another time. Right now I’m in a hurry.” In front of the bathroom mirror she applied bright red lipstick and adjusted her hat.

  “Be a good girl. Papi will come by this evening. I guess your grandpa will pay a visit to make sure all his elaborate arrangements work out for his special girl. As if you need all this special treatment.”

  Is she jealous? Is that why she’s so mean to me?

  Before she could open the door, Leini rushed to her side and grabbed her by the arm.

  “Please, Mira, don’t go. Please, don’t leave me alone. Please. Can’t you wait ’til Papi or Grandpa comes? Please…” Tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped off the end of her nose.

  With a tug Mira freed her arm. She gripped Leini by the shoulder, shaking her so hard Leini’s head flopped back and forth. Mira let go with such force that Leini stumbled against the wall.

  “Stop your bawling right this minute. You’ve got nothing to complain about. On the contrary, you should be grateful for everything I’ve done to make this operation possible. You can’t imagine the sacrifices I had to make. Now be a good girl and behave yourself.” Mira turned and left the room.

  Unblinking, Leini stared at the closed door. Sacrifices! What sacrifices? She hasn’t done a thing. Grandpa’s made all the arrangements.

  Leini threw herself on the bed. With her face buried in the pillow, she wailed, unable to control the devouring anxiety that threatened to suffocate her. She turned on her side and hugged both knees to her chest. She felt utterly abandoned.

  The emotional upheaval was as short-lived as it was violent. Exhaustion claimed her; she fell asleep with tears still seeping through closed eyelids.

  A noise in the corridor woke Leini. She opened her eyes, sore from crying, and looked about the room, but all was dark. The door opened and the overhead light clicked on. Leini covered her eyes with her hands to shield them from the painful glare. She heard the squish of approaching footsteps on the linoleum.

  “Hello, Leini. I’m Virpi.” The voice was soft and melodious.

  Leini saw the blurred image of a woman dressed in nurse’s whites, blonde curls peeking from a cap with two narrow blue stripes, the symbol of a second-year student.

  “I’ve come to take you for X-rays and blood tests.”

  Squinting, Leini patted the bed until she found her glasses and put them on. “Okay.”

  Virpi leaned closer, gazing at her. “Can you see anything through those glasses? They look awfully smudgy to me.” With a gentle hand, she removed them.

  Leini heard water running in the bathroom, and a few minutes later Virpi returned.

  “Better now?” She put the glasses in place on Leini’s nose, pulling a lock of hair from under one earpiece.

  Leini smiled. “Much better. Thank you.”

  “You’re so pretty when you smile. You should do it all the time.”

  Virpi held the dressing gown for Leini. At the door she motioned toward a wheelchair.

  “I can walk, don’t need that.”

  Virpi patted the back of the chair. “Hospital rules. I have to wheel you in the chair for safety reasons.”

  Without a word, Leini sat. Virpi pushed her along a maze of corridors into a huge lift, which took them to the basement. She left Leini with a male X-ray technician.

  Leini’s cheeks burned from embarrassment as he positioned her bare upper body against the cold screen.

  The X-rays done, she dressed in a hurry. Virpi returned and wheeled her to the lab, where another man in a white coat pricked Leini’s finger and squeezed out a drop of blood. He then stuck a needle in her arm for more blood.

  Leini didn’t flinch. She didn’t cry out. With teeth clenched she bore it all, rage roiling inside. I should have stood up to Mira. It’s her fault I’m here. Mira wants this operation, not me. And what business did that man have to make me undress? Papi’s told me not to let strange men touch me.

  Virpi returned Leini to her room and tucked her into bed. She switched on a muted light above the bed. By the door she turned off the bright ceiling lamp. “Your operation is scheduled for eight tomorrow morning. I’m on duty, so I’ll help you get ready. I think you’re a very brave young girl. Sleep well.” Virpi waved and was gone.

  The door had barely closed when it opened again.

  “Ah, there you are, my little princess.”

  Leini slid off the bed and ran to meet Grandpa. She clung to him, relief buckling her knees. In his safe arms she pressed her face against the da
mpness of his overcoat, the raindrops glistening like gemstones on its wide mink collar.

  Grandpa tucked her back into bed and sat by her while they visited. He had only been there a few minutes when Dr. Kallio came to check on her.

  Grandpa reached for Leini’s hand. “Make sure you take good care of my little girl, you hear?”

  Dr. Kallio nodded, a warm smile on his lips. “We’ll do the best we can, my team and I. So much depends on Leini. She knows she has to be very still during the first week or so after surgery. It’s crucial to a positive outcome that she’s very still during those first days.”

  Fear tightened Leini’s throat, making it difficult to breathe. She wasn’t at all sure she could be still for any length of time. What if I have bad dreams? What if I get up and walk in my sleep? Worry like a huge boulder pressed on her shoulders.

  “What happens if I can’t be still?” she whispered.

  Before the doctor could answer, Grandpa interjected. “As I told you, Leini has nightmares.”

  Perplexed, she glanced from one man to the other. Oh, so Grandpa and the doctor have talked. This is all about me, but nobody tells me anything.

  With a hand under her chin, the doctor raised her head until their eyes met. “I’m glad you asked. It shows you’re concerned. Please don’t worry. Your grandfather has made arrangements. You’ll have a night nurse for as long as necessary to make sure you don’t disturb the stitches in your sleep. You’ll also get a mild sedative to make you sleep peacefully. Okay?”

  No, it’s not okay. She took a deep breath. “Okay, Doctor.” More than anything, she wished she were in her own room, waiting for Papi to come home.

  Chapter 15

  Helsinki, November 1947

  “Good morning, Leini. Wake up. Time to get ready.”

  Leini opened her eyes. Through a haze she saw Virpi standing by her bed. Awareness flooded her. This is it, the operation. It isn’t next week or in three days, it’s today!

  She moaned low in her throat, fear acidy in her mouth as she turned her back to the nurse. Burrowing under the covers, she pulled knees to chest, arms wrapped around them.

  “Come on, be a brave girl.” She talked in reassuring tones, painting a bright picture of Leini’s life after the operation.

  With a sigh Leini climbed out of bed and waited while Virpi changed the sheets. After she showered and put on another gown, she returned to bed.

  “I’m thirsty,” she said. “I’d like a glass of water, please.”

  “No, I can’t give you a full glass.” Splashing a little water in a tumbler, Virpi handed it to her with a tiny pink pill. “Here, swallow this with the water.”

  Leini examined the tablet. “What is it?”

  “Doctor Kallio prescribed this to make you calm.”

  Leini swallowed the pill, swirling the small quantity of water around in her mouth. She pulled the covers to her chin and closed her eyes in an attempt to obliterate every impression of the hospital around her. A soft knock sounded at the door.

  Leini turned to see Papi, a smile on his lips, but deep furrows on his brow. She sat in bed, arms outstretched, tears in her eyes. “Papi, you came. Virpi was going to take me away.”

  Sitting on the side of the bed, he held her in his arms. He glanced at Virpi. “Give us just a moment. I want to spend a few minutes alone with my daughter.”

  Virpi nodded and left the room.

  “I came by last night, but you were already asleep.”

  Leini’s chest swelled from joy that Papi thought of her. He came to see her, and it didn’t matter that she slept through his visit.

  He kissed her on the forehead and the tip of her nose. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

  “Thank you, my Papi.” Taking his hand, she pressed the palm against her cheek. “Did Mira come with you yesterday?” She glanced at the door. “Is she here now?”

  “No, sweetheart, Mira wasn’t able to come, but she told me to give you her best wishes. And Karl told me he’ll come to see you as soon as the doctor allows it.”

  Leini only heard the part about Mira. Numbing disappointment washed over her. She agreed to have the operation, did what Mira wanted so she would love her, Leini, but she didn’t even bother to spend time with her on the first night away from home. A sob escaped from deep in her chest. Papi reached for her. She burrowed her face in his neck. He held her close, letting her vent all her sorrow and sense of abandonment and fear of what awaited her.

  “Mira just doesn’t care,” she whispered. “Everything she does shows I’m nothing to her.”

  “That’s not true, my child. Mira does care, she just isn’t very demonstrative.”

  “No, Papi. She always tells me she can’t stand me and that I don’t look at all like her. I hate her, too.”

  “That’s no way to talk about your own mother. You should show some respect, Leini.”

  Then why doesn’t she behave like a mother. Like Berit? And what does Papi mean, I should respect her? That I should be afraid of her, is that it? Well, I am afraid of her.

  “Maybe Mira will love me when my eye is straight and I’m beautiful.” She hadn’t intended to say it, but once the words were out she was relieved.

  “What do you mean? Who’s said you’re not beautiful?”

  She shrugged. “She…I’m not…not with this eye.”

  Papi took her face between his hands and gazed at her intently. “You are beautiful, my Leini. Never doubt it.” As he talked, his finger followed the outline of her face, her nose, caressing her hair. He spread her hand in his palm. “High cheekbones, a symmetric face, lovely hair and beautiful hands make you beautiful. You’re going to grow up to have the most fabulous legs in all of Scandinavia.”

  Leini giggled.

  Papi hugged her close. “Don’t let anybody feed you nonsense.”

  By the door Virpi cleared her throat to get their attention. “It’s time to go.” She raised the railings on both sides of the bed and rolled it to the door.

  “Is it all right if I accompany you to the operating room?” Papi asked.

  Virpi nodded, a smile brightening her pretty face. “Sure, that way you two can visit a little longer.”

  With her hand in his, Leini’s eyes never left Papi’s face. They didn’t have a lot of time together. When they reached the doors to the operating theater Leini was very sleepy. Papi kissed her cheek, a feather-like touch. She tucked the kiss inside to shield her from the frightening things that awaited her on the other side of the doors.

  “May God bless you and keep you, my little girl.” He passed a caressing hand over her forehead.

  In a faraway place, Leini shivered from the draft as the swinging doors closed. She was on her own to face the unknown, Papi’s words still echoing in her mind, “You are beautiful.”

  The clink of metal against metal startled Leini. She lay in a narrow corridor without windows. The walls were so close she could almost touch them. She heard muted voices, barely perceptible music and the sound of running water. The smells were strange; they made her wrinkle her nose. The drab light green double doors swung open, and Doctor Kallio strode to her side. His pants and short-sleeved blouse were the same green as the door. He appeared so funny wearing a cap on his head and paper-like slippers on his feet. The doctor patted her hand.

  “Are you a bit drowsy?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Here, let me take your glasses. Let’s hope you’ll not need them again.” He placed them on a shelf on the wall. “The anesthetist will be with you soon. I’ll see you in your room later today. Don’t worry; everything will be all right.”

  When she didn’t reply, he asked, “Okay, Leini?”

  She nodded. “Yes, okay.” A faint whisper.

  Doctor Kallio disappeared through the green doors, and almost immediately a tubby man, also dressed in green, maneuvered a narrow black cot next to her bed.

  “Hello, Leini. I’m the anesthetist. In a few minutes I’ll put you to sleep.” H
e patted the cot. “Come, I’ll help you get on this table.”

  Her mouth suddenly became so dry her tongue cleaved to the palate. She needed to pee. And she wished they would all go away, to leave her be. If only I had a mother like Paula’s.

  With the man’s help Leini scooted across to the table, cold and hard through her gown. There was no pillow and no cover. Shivering, she stared at the ceiling, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. Without her glasses, the overhead lights were hazy halos.

  He wheeled her through the double doors into a room with a big round low-hanging lamp. The shadowy face of a woman wearing a cap over her hair appeared above Leini.

  “Close your eyes,” the woman said.

  Leini obeyed, and some wet and cold liquid was swabbed over her forehead, the right eye and cheek. Something was slipped over her hair. Then her hands were strapped to the sides of the table. She tried to pull her arms free, but couldn’t. She felt utterly powerless. Trapped. The assault of strange and foreign impressions filled her with a numbing terror. What are they doing to me?

  “I’m going to put this mask over your nose and mouth,” the anesthetist said. “Be a good girl, take a deep breath and count slowly from ten to zero. I bet you won’t get further than seven before you’re asleep.”

  Alarmed, she forced her eyes open just in time to see a black oval mask with tubes attached. It moved closer until the touch of a cold rubbery material covered her nose and mouth. A nauseating and suffocating stench filled her nostrils as the mask was pressed to her face. She fought for air, struggled to free her hands, turning her head from side to side in panic. Help! Somebody please help me!

  Then she sunk into fathomless blackness.

  Chapter 16

  Helsinki, November 1947

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

  Papi and Grandpa, seated next to Leini’s bed, turned their heads. Dr. Kallio approached, white coat unbuttoned over gray slacks, a light blue shirt and a gray tie with red stripes.

  “Ah, all three Bauman generations together.” His smile came and went. “Sorry I kept you waiting. Things are a bit hectic beginning of the week.” He glanced at Leini. “Surgery went well. Soon all this will be a mere memory.”