The Wooden Chair

by Rayne E. Golay

Eyebrows raised, Mira studied her. “Huh? Don’t you smoke?”

  “I do, on occasion, but I don’t like the smoke in my rooms. It bothers my eyes.”

  Not finding an ashtray, Mira quashed the cigarette stub on a plate that held one of the Easter cactus plants on the windowsill.

  “You’re going to Vienna, I heard.”

  Definitely no secrets in this family where I’m concerned. It’s like living in a fishbowl. She gave Mira a quick glance to gauge her mood.

  “I’m going with Grandpa. To consult with an ophthalmologist.”

  “Good. What do you say we go shopping together before you leave, make sure you have something nice to wear?”

  Leini thought quickly. If she refused, she’d be sure to antagonize Mira. She wanted to avoid it. After the emotional upheaval because of Mark, tired from her conversation with Papi in the middle of the night and Grandpa’s early morning news, she needed some quiet time to herself. But wanting peace at any price, she replied, “It’s kind of you, Mira. Let’s do that.”

  I hope this isn’t a trap. What is she up to? We’ve never gone shopping before. Mira always buys my clothes.

  Mira gripped Leini’s hand in her own, dry and cold. “Let’s plan to go on Tuesday morning. I’d like to buy you something pretty for the evening. A cocktail dress would be nice.” She let go of Leini’s hand.

  Leini nodded. “If we’re through with shopping early, maybe we’ll have lunch downtown. My treat.”

  Mira shrugged. “Let’s see about that. Shopping’s our first priority.” She stood. By the door she turned. “This is going to be fun. A real mother-daughter outing. Aren’t you excited?”

  I’m terrified. “Sure, I’m excited.”

  On Tuesday, they left home early. On their way downtown, Mira sat in the tram, legs crossed, not uttering a word.

  “We’re lucky the weather is so fantastic,” Leini said, hoping to draw her out while she worried that this was the beginning of yet another disastrous moment in their relationship. She wished she’d not agreed to the shopping. I should have asked Mira for the money instead.

  Mira took Leini to one of the more exclusive boutiques in ladies’ wear, encouraged her to try dress after dress, discarding them all as either two childlike or too sophisticated. Then Leini saw a dress in a heavy jacquard weave, in cream and aquamarine. As she pulled it over her head in the fitting room, the dress whispered into place. After the saleslady zipped it in the back, Leini stared at her image in the mirror. The strapless dress accentuated her neck and straight shoulders. It enhanced her high bust and narrow waist as it fit smoothly over hips and ended just below the knees to reveal her long legs. In the showroom, she turned around to model for Mira.

  “The dress is lovely. You look very nice. If you like it, we’ll take it.”

  “I love it. Thank you, Mira.” Spontaneously, out of joy and gratitude she buzzed Mira on the cheek and was rewarded with a rare smile.

  “It’s a little bare. You need a shawl of some kind. Would you like to borrow my mink stole?”

  Way too rich for my taste. “Thank you for offering. The concert Grandpa is taking me to in Vienna is on a weeknight. I’d be overdressed in a mink stole.” She settled on a cream-colored wrap of some gossamer fabric.

  In a shoe shop further down the street, Leini bought a pair of high-heeled Italian pumps the same color as the wrap. Content with her purchases, she finally dared to relaxed, glad for their pleasant time together.

  “Now, Mira, let me take you to lunch. I know this perfect place where a violinist circulates among the tables, the lighting isn’t too bright, the food delicious. What do you say?”

  “I don’t think so.” Mira eyed her watch. “It’s pretty late. I need to rush to the bank.”

  Leini shrugged. She more or less expected Mira would turn her down. Afraid to eat, always watching her weight.

  * * *

  Leini’s first impression of Vienna was of a vast city drenched in a monotonous drizzle and fog. Mid-afternoon the cab from the airport deposited her and Grandpa at Hotel im Palais Schwarzenberg, an eighteenth-century baroque palace close to shopping and entertainment. Sheltered from the rain by the doorman’s umbrella, Leini stepped from the cab, only to land in ankle-deep water.

  “Careful, Grandpa, these streets are mined.” She chuckled. “I thought the weather was this bad only in Helsinki.”

  The suite Leini shared with Grandpa was spacious, the furniture a blend of contemporary and old. On the plane, she’d struggled with sleepiness, intensified now by the gloomy sky. Her day had started in Helsinki at six in the morning to catch the flight to Vienna with a stop in Copenhagen. She longed to put her head on the plump feather pillow, to snuggle under the eiderdown.

  By the window, she stared at the vast gardens spread before her, hazy in the rain. Her mood fit the weather; she was filled with sadness combined with discontentment. I don’t want to be here in Vienna with an eye operation looming. Fact is, I don’t want to be in my life.

  She dug nails into the palms of her hands to keep from crying. Mira would say any girl in my place would be delighted to be in Vienna in this beautiful hotel. She shuddered. I’m not any girl, I’m me.

  She was relieved when the phone rang to distract the melancholic wanderings of her mind.

  “This is Grandpa.”

  Leini smiled that he should phone from his room next to hers. Maybe he’s resting, doesn’t want to get up. With a little pinch in her heart she was reminded he wasn’t getting any younger.

  “Shall we meet in the café downstairs in half an hour for tea? If you’re ready, that is.”

  “I’ll be ready, Grandpa. The weather is awful, so the hotel café sounds good.”

  His low grunt over the line reached her. “Half an hour.” And he hung up.

  Grandpa was comfortably seated in a high-backed armchair, studying the menu. Leini leaned to peck him on the cheek, inhaling the peppery scent in his cologne. He glanced at her as she sank into the soft cushions of the wingback chair.

  When the waiter came to take their order, Leini asked for a coffee. “Black, no sugar.”

  Grandpa pointed at the menu. “I’m going to have one of those cream puffs. Very fattening, but the Viennese pastry is delicious. You sure I can’t tempt you to have a piece of chocolate torte?”

  She shook her head, unable to alleviate the sadness that sat in her stomach like yesterday’s undigested food.

  After the waiter brought their order, Leini watched as Grandpa stirred a lump of sugar and a dash of cream in his coffee. Raising the cream puff on its plate to eye level, he studied it, a twinkle in his eye. Seeing her observe him, he held the plate to her.

  “Care for a taste?”

  She smiled. To please him, she dipped her fork in the cream. “Just a little bite.”

  Finishing the pasty, he set the plate on the table. “Are you looking forward to tonight’s concert?”

  “Oh yes, very much. I’ve heard Mozart’s Concerto for Clarinet once on the radio. I can’t wait to experience it live.”

  * * *

  In his bedroom, Grandpa straightened his bow tie and smoothed the lapels of his dark suit. A knock, and he turned to open the door to the connecting living room.

  “Right on time, my princess.” He smiled, admiring his granddaughter, this young woman, who stood against the backdrop of a space filled with light. My little Leini! She’s grown up so fast. Seems only yesterday she was a skinny little girl, all arms and legs, always close to laughter or tears.

  He’d seen some beautiful women in his day, but something about Leini was delightful. She wasn’t a beauty in the true sense of the word, but he recognized something regal in the way she carried herself. The aquamarine and white in her dress accentuated the natural warm color of her complexion. She reminded him of Britta as a young woman when he first met her all those years ago.

  He handed her a flute of champagne. “You look lovely.”

  Blushing, she bowed her head. “Thank you
, Grandpa. You look very handsome.” She raised her glass. “What a nice idea—champagne before the concert.”

  He touched his flute to hers. “To my princess!”

  “To my Grandpa.” She took a sip, then another, softly smacking tongue against palate.

  He preceded her to the brocade-covered sofa. “What a pretty dress you’re wearing,”

  “I’m glad you like it. Courtesy of Mira.”

  He raised his eyebrows, head tilted to the side. “I didn’t know she bought you things. I figured she gives you money and leaves you to shop on your own.”

  “She often buys clothes for me, to surprise me, I guess. I’d prefer she gave me the money, our tastes are so different.” With a dismissive wave of her hand, she added, “Some of the things she brings home are…quite awful.”

  “What do you do with the clothes? Exchange them?”

  “No, I keep whatever it is. I even wear it occasionally, to keep the peace. I suppose she means well.” She sighed. “I sometimes feel like screaming at her to stop buying me all these things. That I’d much rather she spent some time with me. Do things with me, like going to the movies, out for a walk or just listen to music with me like Papi does.”

  The catch in her voice didn’t escape him. She quickly turned her head, but not before he noticed her eyes glitter with moisture.

  In the past, he tried to persuade Robert to leave Mira. More than once, but to no avail. He knew his son wasn’t blind to her faults—more than likely Robert was too scared to leave her. Mira’s behavior toward Leini was abominable. Over the years, he tried his best to alleviate Leini’s situation, with little success. Guilt ate at him that he couldn’t do more for this child he loved so much. On the few occasions he’d argued with Mira about her behavior toward Leini, he regretted it. In her manipulative ways, Mira made it impossible for him to see his granddaughter, sometimes for lengthy periods of time. In the end, he refrained from expressing his outrage so he could be in close contact with Leini. This way, he figured, he was in a better position to protect her.

  “Is Mira generous with material things?” he asked.

  “Very generous.” She glanced at him. “Maybe I’m too pragmatic about her, but I think she knows she has nothing to give from inside, so she drowns me in material things. Then I feel guilty for being ungrateful.” She shrugged. “I guess she believes she’s good to me.”

  Grandpa patted her hand. “Once the operation’s out of the way and you’ve graduated, you should think about going abroad to study. If money is a problem, you know you can count on me to help. Have you thought of what you’d like to do?”

  “Oh yes, Grandpa!” Enthusiasm audible in her voice. “I want to be a writer. I’d like to study journalism in the States, but Papi is dead set against it. He thinks writing is for lazy people who won’t take a respectable job. Maybe I’ll write in my free time.” She sipped her champagne. “I’ll be of age at twenty-one. Then nobody can interfere with what I do. Who knows, maybe I’ll go to the States to study.” She sighed. “In the meantime, I’ve written for documentation from the Geneva University.”

  “Apparently you’ve thought about this.” He poured more champagne. “Why don’t you get your driver’s license once we return to Helsinki? Nowadays, a driver’s license is part of general education.”

  With a broad smile she leaned close to Grandpa. “You’re a mind reader, I’ve already signed up. The course starts at the end of June. I’ll have enough time here in Vienna to learn the exercises to strengthen the eye after surgery. If I go through with it, that is.”

  Grandpa laugh was like a soft purr. “You will. Go through with it, I mean. I’m counting on your common sense and self-respect so nobody can point a finger at you again. I’m glad you have it all planned. You’re quite the independent young lady.” He twirled the stem of his champagne flute between thumb and forefinger. “Now, what will you study in Geneva?”

  “Psychology; the program is reputed to be good. I’ll also take sociology and French.”

  “Good for you, Leini. Apart from securing a good education, you’ll see some of the world beyond Helsinki. It’s to your credit that you take the initiative. As I said, if you need any help, you come to me. Promise me?”

  She squeezed his arm. “Yes, Grandpa, I promise.”

  He couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t just as materially oriented as Mira by offering Leini money. I’m doing the best I can; she knows I love her dearly. What else can I give her but love and money?

  Chapter 21

  Vienna, June 1956

  The appointment with Doctor von Burg was scheduled for mid-morning. Leini rose early and went for a long walk despite the chilly fog. The weather had been miserable during their stay. Returning to her room, she showered and changed into an ivory-colored Chanel-style suit, with a gold-yellow silk top.

  In the cab on their way to the doctor’s office, Grandpa grew silent, lost in thought—his gaze straight ahead, hands locked on the knob of his cane. Cramping in her neck, arrows of pain shooting up the back of her skull forewarned Leini of an oncoming headache. With a hand in front of her mouth, she tried to suppress a nervous yawn. She kept telling herself this was only a consultation. She was determined to keep her options open, not to let anyone talk her into an operation unless she was sure she wanted it, although the situation was different this time—Grandpa didn’t pressure her.

  In the doctor’s office, the receptionist led them to the waiting room. Having only a smattering of school German, Leini deduced they were to be seated.

  Shedding his Burberry, Grandpa draped it over his arm.

  “The doctor won’t be long,” the receptionist said.

  The room didn’t tell Leini anything about the doctor. Vinyl-covered tubular chairs stood against walls on three sides; on the fourth wall pale gray light seeped through tall windows, shaded on the outside by the dense foliage of sycamore trees. On a mock Persian carpet, a plywood and chrome square table held an assortment of glossy magazines. The ordinary doctor’s office, more or less what she expected.

  A woman in a white coat entered the reception area. “Sie sind Leini Bauman, nicht war?” The handshake was firm, her hand warm and dry. Dark brown eyes smiled into Leini’s.

  Leini only nodded.

  “Ich bin Doktor von Burg.”

  The woman studied Leini. “You don’t speak German?” Her accent of the more guttural German was barely perceptible.

  Her dry mouth and throat wouldn’t let a word through. She coughed behind her hand. “Very little. English would be fine.”

  The doctor’s smile brought a dimple in her cheek, eyes dancing, “Then we shall speak English.”

  Leini placed her age in the early forties. She wore her short-cut, red-blond hair high off the forehead. A dash of strawberry red lipstick was her only makeup. She led the way into her office, dark save for a spotlight by the examination chair.

  The doctor motioned to chairs by a low round table. “Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Bauman. My examination will take a while, so you might be more comfortable in an easy chair.”

  Grandpa removed his blazer and hung it over the back of the chair. “This is fine. I prefer these straight chairs.” He patted both knees. “They’re stiff and give me some pain.”

  The doctor moved some instruments and pointed at the patient’s chair. “If you please, Miss Bauman, sit over here.” She glanced at her. “May I call you Leini?”

  Nodding, Leini found it hard to swallow. She sat, pressing legs together in a futile effort to still their trembling while she concentrated on breathing in and out not to let anxiety overwhelm her. The doctor sat in front of her on a low swivel chair on casters.

  Doctor von Burg paused for a moment. “Would you care for some water?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Then she took the risk of trusting this woman, at least for now. “I’m so nervous, I think I’ve let myself become dehydrated.”

  After she drank most of the cold water in the tall tumbler, Leini r
olled the cool glass against her forehead to sooth the pounding in her head.

  Taking the near empty tumbler from Leini’s limp fingers, Dr. von Burg studied a thick folder, then leaned close to Leini. “Your case history is interesting. The optic nerve in your right eye was damaged when the stitches tore after initial surgery. As I wrote in my letter to your grandfather, nothing can repair that injury. Do you understand this, Leini?”

  “Yes. My grandfather made it clear you won’t be able to repair the damage already done. I understand you have another solution. I’m not sure what I want to do, but I’d like to hear what you propose.” Gee, that was a long speech. I’m usually totally tongue-tied in front of an ophthalmologist. Less tense now, she grinned.

  “I will need to examine both your eyes, but I can tell you this much: through a fairly simple surgical procedure I can straighten your right eye.” She tapped lightly with a forefinger under Leini’s bad eye. “Because it’s blind it won’t synchronize with the left one—it will always remain a bit lazy. Are you with me so far?”

  Leini cleared her throat to steady her voice. “Yes, Doctor. I expected this much.”

  “Good. Now, I’d like to examine you.”

  Leini gripped the armrests so hard her hands cramped. Dr. von Burg patted one of them. “I know this must be difficult for you. Try to relax. Nothing I do is painful, and I’ll explain every step I take. Okay, Leini?”

  “Yes, okay, Doctor.”

  And so it began. Leini had been through many examinations, but nothing to compare with this scrutiny.

  The doctor held a small vial in her hand. “These drops will make your eyes insensitive so I can touch them for a reading of internal pressure.”

  Next, she showed Leini a set of glass prisms, explaining their use. “These are to measure the percentage of correction to bring the right eye to the center in the socket.”

  When the doctor was through, she switched on the overhead lights and handed Leini some tissue to dry her eyes. “That wasn’t too bad, was it, Leini?”

  “It’s never bad, other than in my mind. I hate these examinations.” She tried to laugh to take the sting off the words. “I can’t stand having my head or face touched.”