The Wooden Chair

by Rayne E. Golay

  Dr. von Burg nodded. “That’s understandable after what you’ve been through. This is what I suggest.” She smiled, maneuvering her chair alongside Leini’s so she faced Grandpa.

  “The operation is fairly simple.” She shone a light on Leini’s cheek. “I’ll center your eye by loosening the muscles here.” She touched the outer corner of Leini’s eye. “And tighten the muscles on the inner side. I’ve done this procedure several times with good results. Think of this as cosmetic surgery, because that’s what it is in your case.”

  Glancing at Grandpa, Leini read intensity in his eyes. “It’s your call. I won’t influence you one way or the other, but I’ll support you, no matter what you decide.”

  Leini took a few moments to consider what the doctor said. For so many years my eyes have confused people—nobody can tell at whom I’m looking. All the embarrassment and discomfort because of this wandering eye.

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to smile at Grandpa. “I’ll have the operation.” She turned to Doctor von Burg. “When can you schedule me?”

  An audible breath escaped Grandpa. Dr. von Burg smiled, showing white teeth. “I have you scheduled for tomorrow morning at eight. How’s that?”

  Leini threw back her head and laughed, a joyous peal of bells. “You’ve been plotting with Grandpa, haven’t you? Never mind, the sooner, the better. I’ll have less time to worry.”

  “Your determination will see you through. You’ll enter the clinic tonight—I’ll operate tomorrow. You can leave the clinic three days later.”

  “So soon?” Surprised, Leini remembered the seemingly endless postoperative time she spent in the hospital in Helsinki.

  Doctor von Burg nodded. “Yes. You’ll heal just as well in the hotel and be much more comfortable. A week after the operation we’ll start the exercises. It’s a kind of gymnastics of the eye to strengthen the muscles. We’ll work together every day for a while. Afterwards, you’ll have to keep it up on a daily basis.” She leaned forward on her stool, gazing at Leini. “I can’t stress enough how important it’s going be to do these eye exercises to keep the benefits of the operation.”

  Leini nodded.

  I’ll do it. I’m prepared to stand on my head if it means getting rid of this damned deformity.

  Chapter 22

  Vienna, June 1956

  At the door, Dr. von Burg shook hands with them both.

  “Your hotel is quite a distance from my clinic. I’d like to suggest you move closer. I recommend a family-run boarding house across the street.” By the reception desk, she scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Grandpa. “You’ll be comfortable there.” She gave Leini a little nod. “You won’t have far to go for your treatment.”

  Grandpa took the note. “Thank you, Doctor. It’s a good idea. We’ll move this afternoon, get settled before Leini enters the clinic.”

  * * *

  Dr. von Burg’s clinic resembled a stylish country inn more than a medical facility. Leini’s spacious room was furnished with a love seat and chairs around a low table by the French doors. The bed stood in an alcove, which could be partitioned off by a wraparound curtain for privacy.

  After arranging her few belongings in the adjoining bathroom, Leini stood by the French doors in a pool of late afternoon sunshine. She wore her own dressing gown, a colorful cotton print. At the knock on the door, she turned. “Come in.”

  Doctor von Burg entered and settled in one of the chairs. Leini sat on the love seat, long legs curled under her.

  “Are you comfortable, Leini?”

  She shrugged. “Under the circumstances, I guess. Your clinic is very nice, but it’s still a clinic—the smells of medication, the clang of metal on metal, the low voices—it all reminds me of the first operation.” A frisson shook her. “I remember the anesthesia. I couldn’t breathe with the ether mask over my face. I get panicky at the mere thought of it.”

  “It must have been awful, and you just a little girl.” Dr. von Burg smiled. “Let me reassure you, no ether masks, no suffocation. You’ll feel a sting in the arm and you’ll be asleep.”

  “What about nausea? Last time, I was sick for days.”

  The doctor shook her head. “No nausea either. On waking, you’ll feel fine. I’ll keep you under observation in the post-op room till mid-afternoon. In your room again, you’ll be up and about. You can have dinner with your grandfather if you want. Remember to tick off your selection on the menu.”

  Apart from the shot in the arm, it sounds like a day at the spa.

  “One word of caution, though.”

  There we go. I knew this was too good to be true.

  “No bending or lifting or straining for a week or so. I’m sure you understand the stitches might tear if you’re not careful.”

  Relieved, Leini grinned. “Sure. If that’s all, I’ll be careful.” She hesitated before she added, “Doctor, I often have nightmares, so I move a lot in my sleep. Could it disturb the stitches?”

  “Restless sleep isn’t a problem, I’ll prescribe a mild tranquilizer so you’ll be calmer at night.”

  After Doctor von Burg left, Leini phoned Grandpa.

  “I’m happy for you,” he said after she repeated the doctor’s briefing. “I called Robert…Papi a while ago. He said to tell you he wishes you all the best. He sends his love.”

  “Thank you, Grandpa. Maybe we’ll call him after the operation?”

  “Of course we will. Anything you want?”

  “Don’t tempt me.” She heard him chuckle. “Grandpa,” she hesitated, wanting to ask, afraid of the answer. “Did you talk to Mira?”

  “Not this time, I didn’t. You can talk to her when we call.”

  Did she hear a shortness of breath when Grandpa talked? Worry nipped at her. When she asked him if he was well, he took a moment to answer.

  “A bit tired, that’s all. I’ll go early to bed. Sweet dreams, my princess. I’ll be praying for you tomorrow. See you in the afternoon.”

  In bed, Leini kept tossing and turning, unable to let go of the fear. What will I do if anything happens to Grandpa! He isn’t a young man, but he’s in good health. Or is he?

  * * *

  When Leini awoke after the operation, she was lighthearted, almost euphoric the ordeal was behind her. Doctor von Burg found her on the couch dressed in a varicolored jumpsuit, the dappled sunlight shining through the foliage of the sycamores. Munching on a flaky wienerbrot, she smiled as the doctor gave her shoulder an affectionate little pat.

  “I’m glad to see you’re on your feet. Everything went as planned.” The doctor sank into the chair next to Leini. Pointing at the teapot and crumbs of pasty, she glanced at Leini. “You seem to feel good.”

  “I was ravenous.” She dabbed a napkin to her mouth. “Care for a cup of tea? There’s plenty left.”

  Holding up a hand, Doctor von Burg shook her head. “Any discomfort in your eye or head?”

  With the tips of her fingers Leini touched the bandage. “The eye throbs, but no headache.”

  Doctor von Burg stood. “Good. Don’t overdo it. I don’t want you to read during the next couple of days.” She crossed the floor. “You may get bored, but that’s the price you pay. See you tomorrow.” The door closed behind her.

  Alone again, Leini stretched on the bed. Not used to inactivity, she thought she’d be bored. But before she knew it, she dosed off. It only seemed a short while when cautious steps approach the bed. After she opened her eye she needed a moment to adjust to the half light in the room. Carefully, she turned to lean on one arm.

  “Grandpa! Oh Grandpa, I’m so glad to see you.” She stopped to take a take a deep breath to quell the tears of joy at seeing him. Switching on a light above the bed, she studied him. He looked good, better than he’d sounded the night before. He stood straight, his face ruddy as usual, a twinkle in those pale blue eyes as they gazed at her.

  “You sounded so tired when we talked, I thought you were ill.”

  Grandpa moved a chair c
lose to the bed. Leaning both hands on his cane, he lowered himself to the seat.

  “Not to worry, princess. I was concerned about you, is all.”

  “I’m sorry I’m such a bother.” She covered his hand with hers. “It’s almost over now. Dr. von Burg was very optimistic. It’s only a matter of time, then I’ll be better than ever.”

  Chapter 23

  Vienna, June 1956

  The ringing of a bicycle bell, the screechy voice of a newspaper vendor and a burst of laughter reached Leini from the street below. A light breeze twirled the leaves in sycamore trees; it carried with it the smell of summer flowers and exhaust fumes.

  Leaning elbows on the balcony railing, Leini let the golden rays of the sun bathe her face, the warmth a joy after all the rain since she arrived in Vienna. Today was D-Day—Doctor von Burg was to remove the bandage from her eye. For the first time Leini would see for herself the result of the surgery, see her eyes look normal. She trusted Doctor von Burg was right…the eye would be straighter. At a knock on the door she left the balcony.

  “Good morning, Grandpa. You’re punctual. I think the doctor’s a few minutes late.”

  Gingerly, he lowered his bulk to the straight-backed chair. “How do you feel, princess?”

  She grinned. “All kinds of things—a little apprehensive and scared. I’m also excited and hopeful. Most of all, I feel confident the result is good.”

  As Dr. von Burg and her assistant arrived only minutes later, they set their paraphernalia on the table beside the bed.

  Facing Leini, the doctor studied her face. “I’m ready if you are?”

  On the chair, Leini sat straight, squeezing hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking. “I guess I’m ready.” She cleared her throat to still a slight quaver in her voice.

  Wearing surgical gloves, Doctor von Burg began to remove the tape that held the bandage in place. Layer by layer, she lifted off the bandage, until only thin gauze remained. With a pair of pincers from the tray, she wrapped the last cover around the instrument, taking care not to hurt the eye where the cloth adhered to dried blood. Having bared the eyelid, she snipped off the two tiny stitches that kept it closed.

  “A bit of blood and dried tears keep the lid from opening. I’ll take care of it with some cleansing solution.”

  The doctor bathed Leini’s eyelid with a cold liquid, then she dabbed a dry cloth at the wetness on Leini’s face.

  “Before you open your eye, let me warn you the lids are swollen, and the eye is bloodshot.”

  Leini winced. She fumbled for Grandpa’s hand to hold, grasping it so hard he later showed her the half-moon marks in his palm where she dug her nails.

  This is it. Nothing in my life has been so important. Please God let it at least look better than before, even if it’s not perfect.

  “You can open your eyes now.”

  She’d done it innumerable times in the past—a simple gesture like that—opening her eyes, but this time it was the most overwhelming, the most dramatic action.

  Grandpa caressed her hand. “Leini?”

  Doctor von Burg stood so close Leini inhaled the chamomile scent in her shampoo; she recognized it as one she used herself.

  Doctor von Burg’s face held no smile, eyes somber. “Let me look at you.” With a hand under Leini’s chin, the doctor shined a light into Leini’s eye, studying her handiwork. She stepped back, a smile of satisfaction brightening her face.

  “Apart from some swelling around the eye, it looks great.” To Grandpa, “Here, Mr. Bauman, what do you think? Isn’t it an improvement?”

  Grandpa leaned closer the better to see. After he studied her for a moment, he nodded, his eyes glistening from wetness he did nothing to hide. “It’s a huge improvement. Thank you, Doctor.”

  On the edge of the chair, the sunlight from the window illuminating her face, Leini took the mirror Grandpa handed her. After the merest hesitation, she brought it close to her face, staring at the bloodshot eye. She turned her face this way and that, looking at the operated eye from every angle.

  Lowering the mirror, she looked from Grandpa to the doctor. “You’ve both lied to me! It’s no different!” She shouted, the agony and disappointment vibrated in her voice, in her stooping shoulders. “The eye is just as crazy as it ever was.”

  The doctor sat on the bed by her side. With an arm around Leini’s shoulders she spoke in a calm, reassuring voice. “Stop and think for just a moment, won’t you? You can only see with your left eye. When you try to look at the right one, it very naturally moves along with the other, so of course you see the eye off-center.”

  Leini wrinkled her brow.

  Chuckling, Dr. von Burg stood. “You don’t believe me, huh?” She rummaged in her roomy bag and returned to Leini’s side, a camera in her hand. “I’m going to snap a photo of you, have it developed so you’ll be able to see the difference for yourself. I’m sure you’ll agree with your grandfather and me. The improvement is quite remarkable.”

  When Leini saw her own photo some days later, she believed the eye was indeed parallel with the other.

  Amazing!

  * * *

  Other than a touch of lipstick, Leini hadn’t bothered with cosmetics before. Doctor von Burg cajoled her into learning to apply makeup and recommended a cosmetologist.

  “Let Ingeborg do your eyes,” she said. “You’ll be surprised what skillfully applied makeup can accomplish.”

  Leini agreed to see her. She was hard put do tell the difference from one eye to the other when Ingeborg was through painting them.

  Leini bought eye liner, mascara, eye shadow, brushes and all the necessary supplies. In her hotel room, she experimented with colors and shadow and eyeliner, even artificial lashes, which she threw on the floor in disgust when one was more in the eye than on the lid. She spent close to an hour applying makeup to both eyes, doing her best to imitate Ingeborg. Inspecting the result in the mirror, she stared, appalled. Then she burst out laughing. The makeup on the right eye was like she remembered it from Ingeborg’s demonstration. Applying makeup to her left eye was more touch than go, because she didn’t see what she was doing. As a result, she looked like a raccoon. Determined to persevere, she washed her face and started all over, time and again, until she was pleased with the result.

  When she met Grandpa for dinner, he gazed at her across the table. “Great job on your eyes. They look wonderful. If I didn’t know you had a handicap, I’d never guess.”

  Pleased, Leini smiled. The operation was a success. Having learned to apply makeup, she knew she looked her best.

  Before leaving Vienna, Leini called on Dr. von Burg. They sat in her office, sipping lemonade.

  “Grandpa says my eyes look good. Thanks to your skills I no longer feel a freak.” She placed a hand on the doctor’s arm. “It takes another woman to understand surgery alone wasn’t enough. Learning to apply makeup is just as important. I’m very grateful.”

  “The best reward is to see you so happy.” The doctor leaned closer to Leini, staring at her face. “I’d like to impart a piece of advice, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. Go ahead.”

  “I hope this will serve you in the future—make sure always to keep eye contact with those you’re talking to. Evasiveness will make people scrutinize you, whereas a direct look is more likely to divert their attention.”

  Leini lowered her eyes, thinking about what the doctor said. “Hmm. Do I avoid looking at people?”

  “Yes, often. It’s disconcerting. People try to figure out where you’re looking so they keep staring at you. Part of your program as the new Leini, along with exercises and cosmetics, is a frank face-on look.”

  Dwelling on it later, Leini had to admit with something of a shock she did avoid eye contact. Wanting to hide her impaired eyes was only part of the explanation. Mira never looks at me. I’ve copied her behavior. I’ll make sure never to do it again. I no longer have anything to be shy about. Most of all I don�
�t want to be like Mira!

  * * *

  During the return flight to Helsinki, Leini grew worried about Grandpa. He kept wiping perspiration from his face, although it wasn’t too warm on board. He refused food, but accepted a whiskey on the rocks, only to let it sit on the table, untouched. She saw him take a small white pill from his vest pocket, letting it dissolve in his mouth. About to cover his hand with hers, she wanted to ask if there was anything she could do, but he was dozing. She decided to let him rest, leaning closer to listen to his breathing.

  During Leini’s stay at the clinic and the ten-day post-operative period, she was aware Grandpa was often short of breath. At mealtimes, he sometimes enjoy his food, sometimes he only ate a forkful or two. She wasn’t able to tempt him into having any of the delicious pastries or cakes he so liked. On one of her forays into city center, she bought him a box of Mozart Kugeln, bite-size moist marzipan enrobed in chocolate, knowing he had a weakness for them. Helping him pack, she found the box with only one piece missing…the one she’d eaten. She mentioned her concern to Grandma Britta during their only phone conversation.

  “Grandpa is puffing and wheezing. He seems tired, and…Grandma Britta, I’m so scared for him. Is he seriously ill?”

  “My dear, Grandpa has heart problems. For now, he’s on medication, but he needs a thorough checkup when you return.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help him?”

  “He must rest. Short walks, weather permitting. Most importantly, don’t worry, my pet. In a few days you’ll both be home.”

  Leini became aware of her surroundings at the loud announcement that they were about to land at Vantaa airport on the outskirts of Helsinki. Next to her, Grandpa stirred.

  “Did you have a good nap?”

  Behind the back of his hand he yawned. “Indeed. I must have dozed off.”

  Turning to face him, she snuck her hand in his. “I don’t have words to express how very grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me, Grandpa.”

  “Pah, nonsense, my Leini. I made a commitment to find help for you. I’m delighted it turned out well.”