The Wooden Chair

by Rayne E. Golay

  “I’ll have a mixed salad, no carrots. A glass of red wine, please,” Leini said to the waiter.

  Vickie raised her eyes from the menu to stare at her. “Is that all? Won’t you have some pasta? Or a small steak?”

  “You know I don’t eat meat. A salad’s fine. I’m not hungry.”

  “I hope you realize you’re only punishing yourself by not eating. You’ve lost weight, your clothes are literally hanging on your body, and you haven’t washed your hair in days. And you smoke too much.”

  “You’re right, and I know it.”

  Vickie glared at her. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go easy on that wine.” She covered her hand with her own. “I don’t mean to lecture. I love you; it breaks my heart to see you like this, like a displaced person.”

  “That’s me, a displaced person.”

  Vickie moved her right arm over imaginary chords in her raised left arm, playing an imaginary violin. “Get off that pity pot. Now let’s relax and enjoy our meal.”

  When their plates were cleared away and coffee served, Vickie glanced at her watch. “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.”

  Leini stirred her coffee. No denying it, the meal did her good. She really let herself go. Vickie was right, she was only harming herself. Time to pull herself together, to get a grip…all those hearty things people in a crisis were told to do. Was this a crisis? she wondered. Absolutely, I’m sick to my soul. She would make an effort; tonight she would wash her hair, do her nails that were in a pitiful state of neglect. The wine would have to go. Absolutely! And she would start eating regular meals again.

  A shadow fell across the table. Thinking Vickie returned, Leini took a cigarette from the packet on the table and reached for the lighter. A flaming match appeared in her field of vision.

  “Here, let me.”

  Recognizing the voice, she dropped the unlit cigarette and snatched her handbag off the chair. With a firm grip on her shoulders, Bill forced her to remain in the seat.

  “I won’t let you run away from me this time,” he said, holding her by the wrist. “You need to hear what I have to say. Afterwards I’ll let you go if you want. Shall we talk here or would you come to my place where it’s more quiet and private?”

  The noise was loud from the dinner crowd, the tables so close each conversation could be easily overheard.

  Leini stared at him. The heat in the restaurant combined with the surprise of Bill’s sudden appearance at her table made her feel light-headed. I’m sure this is Vickie’s doing. Where is she anyway? Her eyes searched the room.

  He shook his head. “Vickie won’t be back right now. She agrees with me. You should hear what I have to say.”

  Leini had sworn she wouldn’t see Bill again. Now he was so close she could reach to touch his cheek, but she struggled with a whole range of conflicting emotion—joy, anger, excitement, but also fear of him, of being hurt, of rejection and her own low level of endurance with adversity.

  “You haven’t answered my question, do you prefer to talk here or will you go with me? What’s it going to be?”

  It was then she noticed the stubble on his chin, as if he hadn’t shaved. His eyes appeared as pools of ink, the lids heavy and smudgy. He hasn’t slept for a while.

  She rose. “Let’s go.”

  He helped her into the coat and draped the long scarf around her neck. Holding her by the arm, he led her through the door into the street and his car. He opened the door for her, closing it softly once she was seated. During the fifteen-minute drive to his apartment, he never let go of her hand, other than to shift gears.

  In the elevator, she pressed her back against the wall to get as far from him as she could. In his flat, she sat stiff in an easy chair at a safe distance from him. She was on guard, ready to scamper if she felt threatened.

  “Would you like something to drink? Some water? A glass of white wine?”

  “White wine, please.” Her voice sounded hoarse in her ears, as if she hadn’t used it for several days.

  She sipped the cool wine, soothing in her mouth that burned from too many cigarettes. He said he had things to tell her, so she waited as she wondered what he could possibly say to make any difference to her feelings about him.

  Chapter 28

  Geneva and Helsinki December 1957

  After he pulled a round hassock next to Leini’s chair, Bill lowered his tall frame to sit as close as he dared so as not to frighten her. He hoped she wouldn’t withdraw even more into her shell. He gazed at her face, closed and devoid of the enticing smile that had attracted him to her in the first place. Her eyes were like dark coals, shiny as from a fever. She stared at a point above his head.

  He took a sip of wine and placed the glass on the floor. More than anything, he wanted to go to her, to hold her in his arms. He was prepared to do anything to make the agony on her face disappear. Since they met, he’d seen the occasional expression of pain, like a cloud across the sun, and wondered what someone as young as Leini had to endure to know such hurt.

  Leaning elbows on knees, eyes fixed on her face, he spoke in a low, distinct voice. “Please hear me out, Leini. After I’ve said it all, I won’t keep you if you want to leave.” A moment’s silence before he asked, “Will you listen to me?”

  “Yes, Bill.”

  “What happened the other night is my fault, I let things go too far. You’re so young and inexperienced it’s irresponsible of me to lead you on.”

  “Fine, good, I’m young, you’re older. We already talked about the age difference when we started seeing each other again. I didn’t think lacking experience was a character defect.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply it’s a defect, but your life is only starting. You’ve hardly lived yet.”

  “Did you bring me here to tell me you’re too old and I’m too inexperienced for you?” Her voice shook. “If so, you’re wasting your time. I knew this. You already said so.” She shifted in the chair. “This discussion is pointless. I can’t turn twenty-five overnight any more than I can become an experienced woman just to accommodate your sense of decency.”

  Bill smiled. This was encouraging—she hadn’t bolted yet. Holding her cold fingers wrapped in his hand, he caressed her wrist with his thumb. “Of course not, and that’s not the point. What I feel for you is not a fling that’s going to fizzle out after a while.” His voice was low. “I love you. I want to marry you.”

  He had to fight the impulse to reach for her, to hold her to him. Instead he waited, feeling each heartbeat in his throat, mouth so dry tongue cleaved to palate while she sat so still, those mellow dark eyes never leaving his face.

  * * *

  As if emerging from a trance, Leini shook from a tremor.

  “Why don’t you say something, darling?” His voice was low with a slight quiver.

  “I heard what you said, but I’m not sure I understand.”

  He moved closer, fondling her cheek. “I love you, Leini. I want to marry you if you’ll have me after the pain I’ve caused you.”

  For an instant she closed her eyes. When she opened them, she gazed at him, an unwavering stare.

  “I don’t know what to say. I thought I was too young for you.” Taking a deep, tremulous breath, she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Are you sure? About wanting to marry me?”

  “I’m absolutely sure. That’s all I want—to marry you, to love you, to be there for you and have you with me always.” With his fingertips he brushed at the tears on her face.

  She nodded. “I may be young, but I know I love you and I want to marry you.”

  “Ahh, my Leini.” He stood, pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. His lips touched her eyelids, her cheeks, her mouth—gentle kisses expressing all his anguish and longing and love. Taking her with him, they sat on the couch.

  Later, sometime later, he asked, “Are you still planning to go to Helsinki for Christmas break?”

  Surprised, she glanced at him. “Yes. Why do y
ou ask?”

  “I’d like to come with you. If you agree, I’d like to meet your parents, to see you in your own setting—and to ask your father for permission to marry you.” His hand shook as it held hers.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Bill, darling. I’d love to have you come with me to Helsinki.” Her voice shook. “You’ll meet my wonderful Papi. He’ll agree for us to marry, I’m sure. He always wants what’s best for me.” She gazed at him from under her brow. “After you’ve spoken to Papi, will you make love to me?”

  Bill chuckled as he ran his finger along the bridge of her nose, following the outline of her lips. “You’re adorable. I love you.”

  * * *

  “What? To ask for your hand!” The question marks were in Vickie’s voice as Leini gave her the news. “Isn’t it terribly old-fashioned?”

  “Not in my family, it isn’t. I’m under age and can’t marry without my parents’ consent. I think it’s sweet that Bill wants to come to Finland to meet them.”

  He’ll also meet Mira. Her breath caught at the thought that she had to tell him something about her.

  Vickie grabbed Leini in a bear hug. “Congratulations. He may be a bit older than you, but I think he’s the neatest guy I’ve met. I hope those stars in your eyes will never fade.” She grinned. “Most of all, I hope he knows how lucky he is.” She smiled. “About last night…Do you mind my bringing you two together?”

  “Of course not. I love you for it.”

  * * *

  The plane took off from Kastrup, Copenhagen airport, the last leg of their journey to Helsinki. When the “No Smoking” sign was turned off, Leini lit a cigarette and took a deep puff. She slipped her hand in Bill’s, clutching it to still her growing anxiety.

  “I’d like a drink, darling.”

  He glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “Are you all right?”

  At her nod he signaled for the hostess. As the young woman in a midnight-blue uniform, a boat-shaped cap on her blond curls leaned closer to hear them over the drone of the engines, Bill suggested they share one of the small bottles of champagne served on flights. Smiling, Leini agreed. Anything, as long as it relieved the tenseness squeezing her chest like a steel cage.

  After they were served, Bill touched his glass to hers.

  “Welcome to Helsinki.” Leini took a sip and then another.

  Holding her hand, he gave her a sidelong look. “You’ve talked a so much about everybody in your family, it’s almost as if I knew them. I’ve been wondering, though. I know nothing about your mother, only her name. You haven’t said anything about her.”

  She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. How I wish I didn’t have to talk about this. “We’re not close. I guess you’ll notice we’re polite, but aloof with each other.” Her hand slipped inside his and grasped hard while she told him what it had been like for her to grow up with Mira. She told him Mira didn’t want her, preferring an abortion, which Papi forbade. She told him how Mira tried to get rid of her by leaving her behind at the market. She spoke of Mira’s coldness, her manipulation to get Leini to undergo eye surgery, the loss of sight in her eye. Once she started talking, words poured forth in a stream she couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. If they were going to have a chance at a good marriage he had to know; she wanted no secrets between them. With an impatient gesture, she brushed at tears.

  Bill caressed the backside of her hand. “Darling, I don’t know what to say. I suspected you’ve been through some tough times, but I never imagined so much hardship.” He brushed strands of hair off her face. “How can a mother—any mother—behave like that with her own daughter?”

  “I know from my uncle Karl, Mira had a rough childhood. I suppose it explains her behavior, at least to some degree.”

  The voice over the loudspeakers told them they were about to land. It put a stop to further discussion. Relieved, somewhat tired, Leini adjusted the safety belt. The plane made its final approach to Vantaa airport, some twenty miles outside Helsinki. Bill peered through the small window, checked the time on his watch and glanced at Leini.

  “Unbelievable! It’s not quite four in the afternoon, but it’s pitch dark!” He sounded surprised.

  Taking the last sip of her champagne, Leini nodded. “See. I told you so. Today is winter solstice.” She smiled. “Any snow on the ground?”

  “It looks white, yes.”

  While still in Geneva, after they made their flight arrangements, Bill never stopped talking about Helsinki and her home. He read guide books, studied a phrase book, tried to memorize a few sentences in Finnish. She loved him for his enthusiasm and interest in her country and bought him another phrase book, this one in Swedish.

  “Finnish is so difficult. There are no similarities to any other language, except Hungarian. You’ll find Swedish easier.”

  As they now came through with their luggage, Mira and Papi stood by the door to the arrivals hall.

  “Mira, Papi, meet my friend Bill,” she said in English, the one language they had in common. “Bill, this is Mira and my Papi.” The awkwardness of the expression wasn’t lost on her. I couldn’t very well say “my Mira” and I never say “mother,” never think of her as my mother.

  Leini stood a little to the side, watching as Papi and Bill shook hands. She was struck by the resemblance; both had beautiful hands with long fingers and slim wrists. I’ve been safe in Papi’s hands—I’ll be secure in Bill’s.

  They were both tall, both had the kindest eyes—Papi’s hazel, Bill’s a dark shade of gray with a tinge of green when the light was right.

  Papi turned to Leini. “Ah, my girl. Come here.” His arms enfolded her.

  The lump in her throat swelled. “I’ve missed you so.”

  When Papi let go of her, she glanced at Mira. To her surprise, Mira wrapped her arms around Bill’s neck. He looked somewhat dumbfounded as he stood stiff while she hugged him. Catching Leini’s eyes, he winked.

  Turning to her, Mira reached to plant a kiss her cheek. “Welcome home, Leini, Bill.”

  Mira is full of surprises. She isn’t big on physical contact and here she is hugging Bill like a long-lost friend. And kissing me, calling me by name.

  On the drive from the airport, Papi and Leini mentioned landmarks on the way.

  From the back seat, Leini pointed over Bill’s shoulder. “Look there, to your right. You can see the Ferris wheel in the amusement park.”

  Papi gestured at a majestic building, sparkling white in the spotlights trained on the façade. “Over there is the new opera house.”

  By the apartment building, Papi parked in his slot. As she saw Harry hold the door open for them, Leini raised her hand high and waved.

  “Ah, Harry! So good to see you.” Hooking her arm in Bill’s she introduced them. “Bill, please meet Harry Nordman. Harry, this is…” She faltered, uncertain how to introduce him. “…Bill Gardet, my friend from Geneva.”

  Harry grasped Bill’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Gardet.” He gave Bill an intense scrutiny.

  “I’ve known Harry all my life. He’s been here watching over all of us since the day I was born.” With a grin, she handed Harry a paper bag with the Geneva airport logo. “I’m too young to buy alcohol in the tax-free shops, but Bill did. And there’s something for Anja too.”

  Harry took the bag and peeked inside. “Swiss chocolate. Ah, my wife’s weak spot. Thank you, Leini.” He nodded at Bill. “Sir.”

  “You’re welcome. Enjoy.”

  During the week they had in Helsinki, Leini wanted Bill to see everything, all her favorite places. She showed him the waterfront marketplace where she sang as a little girl for tram money when Mira left her behind. Images from times gone by scrolled in her mind, until a shudder shook her and she let herself be carried away by Bill’s enthusiasm. He loved the bustle of shoppers, the smells, the display of potatoes, other cold-hardy vegetables and fish, and bought a bouquet of cherry-red carnations for Mira. From the steps of the Great Cat
hedral, he gazed over housetops at the icebreakers in the south harbor. They sauntered along Alexen, a busy downtown shopping street, and window-shopped on North Esplanaden. Seeing the fabulous Finnish art glass, Bill stood in stunned admiration in front of the simple forms and dazzling colors.

  They visited Grandpa’s grave, both standing in silence, heads bowed. Already two years, and I still miss him so. How I wish he were here now to meet Bill. I know he’d be happy for me. Brushing away the wetness on her cheeks, she left one blood-red rose on his grave.

  As they left the cemetery, Leini slipped her arm under Bill’s. “Do you feel like walking into town? The sun is trying to break through the clouds, and it’s not too cold or windy.”

  “Let’s walk. That way I get to see more of Helsinki and spend some time alone with you.” He squeezed her arm against his side.

  At a brisk pace, Leini took them along main arteries through the flurry of trams, trolleybuses, some cars, and crowds of pedestrians. Turning off one of the main boulevards, she led him along a street, more somber and narrower than she remembered from only a couple of years ago.

  Somewhat winded from the slope, she caught her breath before she pointed. “There. See this square building in yellowish brick? This is my alma mater.” Something like longing moved within. “I can see it all so clearly; Paula and me as young girls, as teenagers, newly baked graduates, arms full of roses, our white hats askew on our heads, eyes filled with nostalgia at the end of a life chapter, my heart beating with hopes for the future, some reasonable, some extravagant. These were wonderful years.” As they retraced their steps towards city center, she linked her arm in Bill’s and sighed. “Come to think of it, some of those years were not all that wonderful.”

  By the equestrian statue of Marshal Mannerheim on the square opposite the Parliament building and the main post office, Bill stood in awe as he beheld the proud figure of the man he so admired. Leini led the way along Mannerheim Avenue as the northeastern pinched her cheeks and made her eyes run with tears.