Never Turn Back

by Lorna Lee

  “Bonjour, Monsieur Nurmi. I hope you’re well.” Meri spoke directly to the back of his head since his wheelchair was still turned toward the window, away from the door. Does the man ever look anyone in the eyes? He is an odd one…

  “The condition of my health is none of your business, Mademoiselle. Did you bring the two references I requested?”

  “I did, Monsieur.” Meri held them in her hand but was at a loss for what to do with them. I’ve never spoken to a person who refused to look at me. Well…Mamma…

  “Don’t stand there like an idiot! Meri jumped when he barked. “Bring them to me!” Thrump-thrump…thrump-thrump…thrump-thrump. His fingers drummed on the arms of his wheelchair.

  “Of course, Monsieur!” Is he impatient or just annoyed? Meri wondered as she rushed the papers to him. She stood beside, rather than in front of the wheelchair not knowing what else to do.

  “Go over to one of those chairs and sit while I examine your documents.”

  Meri followed his instructions. Sitting on the edge of a lavish wooden chair, she waited for what seemed to her to be a long time to read two short statements about her assets as an employee.

  Turning his wheelchair toward her, but not facing her, he finally spoke. “While I hesitate to hire someone not recommended directly by the Finnish Embassy, your references seem adequate, and I do need someone immediately. My last assistant left quite abruptly and unprofessionally.”

  “I would never do such a thing, Monsieur, especially to a fellow countryman.”

  Meri thought reminding him of their common Finnish heritage might help her cause.

  “Non, of course not. We Finns must help each other, right, Mademoiselle Vaarsara?” That tone. Meri shuddered. It’s Mamma teasing me. The hair on the back of her neck prickled with fear. Her instinct to strike back—to defend herself—created a wave too large to contain.

  “Monsieur Nurmi, I’m humbly offering my professional services to you, services you say you need and need now. Have I offended you? If you aren’t going to hire me as your assistant, then tell me. I’ll leave. Just don’t play with me like you’re the cat and I’m the mouse. I’m not a mouse…Monsieur.”

  “Well, well, well. The meek Finn girl shows her fire.” Monsieur Nurmi’s managed a contorted smile resembling a sneer.

  Meri trembled. Fear of him wasn’t causing her to shake; fear of having lost this opportunity for a better job, fear of working in a hotel kitchen and being a supervisor’s whore was what frightened her.

  “I think you will make an adequate personal assistant. What you lack in experience, you make up for in, what is the word these days, ‘spirit?’ You will start tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? But I can’t possibly start so quickly. I have a duty to my supervisor at the hotel. I wouldn’t leave you abruptly. How can I leave him without so much as a day’s notice?”

  Monsieur Nurmi rubbed his chin. “I like your sense of loyalty, Meri, even if you disobeyed my very first order. That, my girl, is a first!”

  Meri smiled. I’m not going to be his wash rag.

  “Come here after work for the next week—for an hour or two—and then start full time in a week. Can you manage that? I am not a man who likes to compromise, but this case seems to warrant it.”

  “I can manage that, Monsieur.”

  “Then it is settled.”

  Meri nodded and they shook hands. Looking at the desk, Meri spoke with the confidence of a seasoned professional. “Monsieur, would you be kind enough to explain the job to me?”

  Chapter 8: Crash

  “For after all, the best thing one can do when it is raining is let it rain.”

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Meri worked as Topias Nurmi’s personal assistant from the spring of 1929 to the summer of 1931. Meri sized up her new employer straightaway. A wretched man in a wheelchair, he used his wealth to manipulate and dominate the few people in his life, people who were paid to be in his life. Meri’s first lesson in being a personal assistant, therefore, had nothing to do with the job and everything to do with becoming a more astute judge of character.

  After few weeks into the job, Meri met for a brief lunch with Siri while out doing errands for her employer.

  “How’s the new job?” Siri nibbled at her salade nicoise, more interested in Meri’s answer than her lunch.

  “I believe Monsieur Nurmi falsely advertised the job. He should have written to the Finnish Embassy asking for a personal object, not an assistant. He wants someone to boss around, like my big brothers and sisters bossed me around. Only I don’t have someone like my Papa to protect me.” Meri tore a hunk of the baguette they were sharing and stuffed it in her mouth.

  “Is he really that bad? What does he make you do?”

  Meri’s mouth was full but she nodded vigorously and rolled her eyes, giving Siri a preview of what was about to come. “Run here. Go there. Get this. Take that away. Type this. File that. Sit quietly and still while I think of something for you to do. Everything is a crisis or an emergency with him, so when he orders me to do something, I have to be ready to do it fast. I feel like a dog obeying commands from a demanding owner.”

  Siri frowned. “Is there anything good about the job? Are you learning anything?”

  Meri shrugged. “I suppose I’m learning about how to be more organized. And the errands I run are to business places—banks and other offices—where I’m among professional people. I guess I’m moving up in the world from being a domestic. That’s good. And I get to wear fashionable clothes rather than dull uniforms. I like that very much. I’m making my own clothes again.” Meri stood and twirled, showing Siri her outfit—a fitted wool skirt and paisley cotton blouse that she had just finished.

  Siri clapped her hands in approval.

  She sat back down and continued. “The best part of the job is that Monsieur Nurmi isn’t Claude, the disgusting molester. He’s disabled and can’t have sex.” Meri felt only a tinge of guilt for being grateful she worked for a man who suffered in a wheelchair.

  §

  The seven kilometer walk from Apartment 3C to her new job meant Meri left for work even earlier and returned much later than when she had worked at the hotel. Monsieur Nurmi continually sent her on errands and had her fetch various items for him during the day—items, Meri thought, he could easily retrieve himself. He was paying her to be his legs and he was determined to get his money’s worth. All this walking exhausted Meri. Sometimes, the weather turned foul, or he required her to work particularly late. When that occurred, Monsieur Nurmi insisted she stay overnight in the separate suite his former assistants who needed housing had occupied.

  The first time he offered, Meri balked. “I’m not prepared, Monsieur. I don’t have a change of clothes or anything.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Girl. Antoinette will see to your personal needs for tonight.” The second time he said, “I prefer you live with me. That way you will be available when I need your services after business hours. Most of my prior assistants were live-ins. The accommodations, as you know, are quite nice and are part of the benefits of the job. Make arrangements to move into the suite as soon as is feasible,” he said, though he never stopped perusing his ledger and might as well have been speaking to the book.

  Meri could tell by the sound of his voice she was dismissed. Yet she remained. Perhaps he could hear her shallow, quick breaths, but eventually Monsieur Nurmi turned his head ever so slightly, his eyes gazing at Meri’s midsection.

  “Was I unclear? I am a busy man.”

  “Monsieur? Moving in? I didn’t think…” Meri looked directly at her employer. She could not help herself. What difference does it make? He never looks me in the face.

  “The suite is probably more comfortable than where you are living now, so I do not understand your hesitation. My concern is how far away you live from here. All the walking you do every day makes you tired. I will not tolerate a tired assistant. You need to be alert and ready to complete my errands q
uickly. Unless my business takes you far into the city or requires my presence, don’t expect me to pay for your transportation. Moving into this house makes perfect sense. Consider your residence here a requirement of employment.

  Meri’s voice rose in pitch. “I don’t think—”

  Nurmi held up his hand. “I will not explain myself or argue with you.” He put his hand down and added, “Stop looking at me.”

  “Oui, Monsieur. Pardon, Monsieur.” How did he know I was looking at him? Meri thought as she averted her eyes. Why didn’t he tell me I would have to move in with him as part of my job? Her eyes narrowed into slits and they became as dark as a stormy sea. Anger overtook Meri as she thought about yet another employer controlling every aspect of her life—this time, even where she lived. How will Tuula and Elina react to this sudden change in our living arrangement? Meri excused herself to find Antoinette and her new living quarters. Her words were sharp and brief. As she left the room, she closed the door with a definitive slam.

  Meri’s mood lightened when she entered the suite. She couldn’t help smiling. Her new accommodations were just as large as Apartment 3C, but only for her. It was opulent compared to Tuula’s place, and she had her very own bathroom. It’s so spacious! And look at the fancy brocade wall paper with swirls of gold in it and shiny wooden floors. The large oval Persian rug hugged her toes when she took off her shoes and walked on it. The already bright room glowed even more when Antoinette flicked a light switch bringing an elaborate crystal chandelier to life. Meri looked up and gasped. She felt like a wealthy person by simply occupying the space filled with lavish furnishings and fine linens. The lace curtains then caught her attention. Who made these beautiful curtains? An immigrant, most likely.

  “Antoinette, this is beautiful.” Meri’s voice became soft and breathy.

  “I wish my accommodations were as nice.” The maid caressed the polished wood trim of a plush lounge chair.

  “There’s no place for me to prepare my meals…” Meri thought aloud.

  “You eat with the rest of the staff in the kitchen, unless The Master wishes otherwise.”

  Meri turned to Antoinette and away from ogling the décor of her new “home.” “Does he ever ‘wish otherwise’?”

  “Not often. He took a fancy to his last assistant and dined with her on occasion.”

  Meri shuddered. “Mon Dieu! Not again.”

  Antoinette shrugged. “Meri, he is still a man.”

  “But surely he can’t do much to a woman. Everything below his waist is dead. Right?

  “Oui, but he still has hands.”

  “I never thought….” Meri shuddered and wrapped her arms around her midsection.

  §

  “What do you mean? You’re moving out? When? Why? I thought we were family.” Tears spilled from Elina’s confused, hurt, and angry eyes.

  “Elina, calm down,” Tuula said. “Meri? Family? Ha! She’s just a tenant deciding to move on to something better.”

  Tuula’s words stung worse than a swarm of angry wasps. Meri expected nothing less from this Finnish woman, a woman like herself in too many ways. Tuula’s heart needs armor to survive. Meri understood about forging armor around one’s tender places.

  “It’s not fair. Meri said this job would make her rich and we would all move to a nice house with our own bathroom. She promised.” Elina, now thirteen, had perfected pouting and she was giving one of her best performances yet.

  “We talked about my dream. I never meant to promise anything,” Meri said to the two people who saved her when she first arrived in Paris six years ago. The time had come for her to leave. They don’t seem to care that he’s making me move. Can’t they see it’s not my choice?

  “Dream. Promise. To a little girl, Meri, what’s the difference? You shouldn’t have said anything to get Elina’s hopes up. Do you see how cruel you’ve been—filling her head with grand homes? This apartment is a fine home for us.” Tuula stood with her arms crossed, her lips razor thin even while talking. She seemed ten years older.

  “I’m hurting both of you and I’m sorry. It’s not my fault this demanding man requires I live in his house, to be at his service whenever he calls. You do what you need to make a living, and I do what I must.” Meri matched Tuula’s stance and demeanor—two tenacious, proud Finnish women at an impasse. Elina backed away.

  “I understand. You’ve made your choice. Leave as soon as possible. I’ll find another tenant.” Tuula went into her bedroom and closed the door with a slam.

  Meri stood in the center of the sitting area, heart-sick but determined not to show it. I’m being treated as if I was a stranger renting a room for a few months! Meri’s thoughts ran wild. How many times did I take care of Elina? I’ve been part of their lives for six years. We’ve shared our secrets, secrets we’ve kept from our families in Finland. How dare she treat me this way, especially in front of Elina.?

  Meri turned to find Elina silently crying under the settee, just like she used to as a young child. “Elina, come out from under there.” Meri’s voice was soft. She got on her hands and knees to reach out and help the girl out from her favorite hiding place. She resisted.

  “Leave me alone. You can’t tell me what to do. You aren’t family anymore.” Elina shrunk from Meri’s touch and wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand.

  “Kulta, stop. Do you think I want to leave you? I must go. If I stay here, I’ll be fired and then where will we all be?”

  “We would all be together.” Elina said with a sniffle.

  Meri sighed. “What would I do all day when you’re in school, when you find a job or friends you want to spend your evenings with? You’re growing up and don’t need me as much.”

  “I do!” Elina bumped her head on the bottom of the settee. “Ouch!”

  Meri grinned. “I told you to come out of there, Elina.”

  Elina wiggled her way out. Meri sat down on the floor next to Elina and they talked about what would become of their lives, each starting to accept this necessary change. Elina would grow more independent and spend less time in the apartment; Meri would work and save money. Maybe Meri would visit on her days off.

  When Tuula came out of her bedroom, she found Elina and Meri in the kitchen preparing supper. “What’s this? You act as if nothing has changed, yet hasn’t everything changed?”

  “Mamma, we’ll be fine,” Elina said. “I’m almost a woman, and I don’t need anyone to look after me like I did before. Meri needs to keep her job. She’ll visit us when she can.” Elina hummed as she began setting the table.

  Tuula walked up very close to Meri and whispered, “Don’t fill my little girl’s head with any more of your fantasies. Life is a basket of disappointments. I don’t want that lesson coming first from those she loves and trusts.”

  Meri simply stared at Tuula.

  “Save your dramatic face for someone who will fall for it. You won’t be back to visit. You’re on your way to a new life. I don’t blame you. I would rather live among the rich and spend time with Siri than with the likes of us in this poor neighborhood. We had our good times, and we served each other’s purposes. Now it’s done. That’s life. Just don’t pretend we meant something to you.”

  Meri started to protest, but Tuula put her hand up and turned away.

  “If that’s the way you want it, Tuula…”

  Shaking her head, she said, “You chose this, Meri, not me.”

  She’s hurt and she’s lashing out at me. I would do the same thing. How odd the way affection can present itself.

  They ate in relative quiet. Only Elina started conversations, which all ended soon after they began.

  Meri packed her few belongings after Elina had gone to bed. It was true; she probably never would return to Apartment 3C. I shouldn’t have lied to Elina, like I lied to Jani—telling him maybe he could visit me in Paris. Why do I lie to children? To make them feel better or to make me feel better?

  Meri slept fitfully. Contrary to Tuula’
s characterization of their relationship, she had grown quite fond of both of her “roommates,” who were more like family than some of her own. Once again, she was leaving the people she cared about—never to return. Someday I’ll make a family of my own and never leave them behind, she promised herself.

  Meri left before dawn—before Elina woke up and before Tuula returned home—leaving the balance of her monthly rent in an envelope on the kitchen table. On the outside of the envelope she wrote: “I owe you so much more than this. Take care of yourselves. Good bye. Meri.”

  §

  Except for the disposition of her employer, Meri came to enjoy both her work and her new accommodations. She lived the life of a professional in a posh section of Paris. Essentially an errand girl for a cantankerous rich man who thought he was superior to those around him, at least she could afford to wear fashionable apparel and visit interesting places in Paris. While on errands in the finer parts of Paris, she took note of the fashions women wore and how they acted. One day, I’ll be just like these women. I don’t know how, but I’ll show Mamma that Papa was right—I’m special.

  Meri didn’t have as much time to herself as she thought she would have. She squeezed in visits with Siri over quick lunches between errands for Monsieur Nurmi. During those rare times when the two friends connected, Meri took advantage of Siri’s ever-patient ear.

  “He wants me to type correspondence for him at night and during the weekends, can you believe it?” Meri took a bite of Camembert cheese, the creamy aroma doing nothing to calm her.

  “Why? What business can be so important?” Siri sipped her coffee.

  “Nothing! Of course I can’t give you details, but I can tell you these letters are filled with nonsense. I think he wants to make sure he keeps me in the house as much as possible during times when I could be having fun.” Meri speared a piece of hard-boiled egg.

  “Terrible! How do you cope, Meri? I’d go crazy!”

  “I have my ways. Like now. He doesn’t know I have these lunches with you. Sometimes I go window shopping to see the newest fashions between errands. I take my time when he sends me out.”