The Wooden Chair (12 page)

Leini nodded. Her free hand was busy twining a lock of hair. She pulled it so tight she almost winced from the twinge on the scalp.

“What’s your recommendation?” Mira asked.

He turned to stare at her.

“Leini’s pathology is congenital.” The smile he gave Leini brought out small feathery wrinkles at the outer corners of his eyes. “Something you were born with. There is no chance of outgrowing it, not even in puberty. Your right eye turns more and more outward. I don’t know how to stop it.” The doctor glanced at her file. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be nine next month.”

He nodded. “You’re still very young. There’s no emergency. If you decide not to have the operation now, it won’t be too late a couple of years from now.”

Her fingers twined and untwined the lock.

Doctor Kallio reached to still her hand, holding it, his hand like a warm pocket. “So far we’ve tried every known treatment, without success. It’s been burdensome and difficult for you. The operation is your decision because the success depends on you. I keep repeating myself, but this is very important.”

He crossed one leg over the other. “Think about it. There’s no hurry. You’re still my brave little patient even if you decide against this operation. If you want to have it later it won’t be too late.” He stood. “With time, the procedure is bound to improve. If so, your chances of success will grow. It’s not a promise, but a possibility.” In a low voice he added, “And don’t let anybody talk you into it.” He smiled at her and glanced at Mira. “Okay, Leini?”

“Okay, Doctor.”

They shook hands.

In the elevator going down, while they waited for the cab, Leini was lost in thought.
Not now, I won’t go through with it. Doctor Kallio didn’t sound as if he was quite sure this is the right thing for me. He said I can wait, there’s no hurry.

She took a deep breath, cheeks ballooning as she blew out the air slowly through pursed lips.
Maybe I’ll have this kind of surgery one day. One day—not now.

As soon as they were seated in the car, Mira attacked. “I think you should have the operation.”

Leini kept staring straight ahead. “No!”

“Listen, young girl—”

“No! I don’t want to talk about it.” Prepared to do battle, she fisted hands in her coat pockets. She closed her eyes in relief when Mira didn’t insist.
For once she keeps quiet.

Chapter 12

Helsinki, Fall 1947

Leini held her plate while Mira heaped food on it.

“Enough, Mira. I can’t eat all that.”

She wanted to pull away her plate, but didn’t dare. Mira held her wrist. From experience she knew Mira’s fury would erupt if she allowed food to spill on the white linen tablecloth. Mira was crazy about heaping food on everybody’s plate. To Leini, mealtimes were a battle to keep her portions reasonable, a constant fight to curb Mira’s persistence to dish out more than she could possibly eat.

Leini hated meals at the family table. Battling with Mira about her portions was only part of her disgust. It also made her sick to see Mira play with the food on her own plate, only going through the motions of eating. As a rule, Mira took only a tiny bit of food, not really worth getting the plate dirty, Leini thought. Mira pared off the minutest trace of fat if they were having meat or chicken. She would shuffle the food around, bring a forkful to her mouth to nibble at it with stiff lips. Very little found its way into her mouth.

Mira released her clawlike grip on Leini’s wrist. For once, she didn’t ladle more. Leini was quick to pull away her plate. The crispy fried chicken, fluffy rice and beans were Leini’s favorite food, but she refused to eat the raw grated carrots with lemon juice and sugar. During the war she ate enough carrots to last her a lifetime.

Mira constantly watched her weight. She couldn’t eat this, and she couldn’t eat that. Rice gave her gas, and chicken was too fattening, salad too indigestible. Once Papi commented that she was so thin she rattled when she moved. Leini thought Mira was afraid to eat. She wondered why, but didn’t dare ask, lest Mira had one of her bursts of anger, which never failed to terrify Leini. She now watched Mira make a pile of the small helping of carrots on her plate. With her fork she spread the little heap and shuffled it around.

Turning in Leini’s direction, Mira fixed her eyes on a spot on the wall above her head. “Aren’t you going to tell Papi what the eye doctor said today?”

Papi looked at Leini. She put the fork and knife on her plate and took a sip of water as she gazed at Papi over the rim of the glass, eyes imploring him not to insist. He often seemed to guess her thoughts and feelings.

He nodded at Mira. “I know what the doctor said because you already told me.” He gave Leini’s hand a little pat. “Leini will talk about it when she’s ready.”

Since the doctor’s appointment this morning, she struggled against fear and weariness . Papi’s kindness lightened her mood.

Mira’s eyes spat venom as they fell on Leini, holding her transfixed in her chair. “You ungrateful girl. Here I take time off from work to go with you to the doctor, and you refuse to talk about the visit. You could at least tell Papi the doctor wants to operate.”

With a sharp clang, Papi slapped fork and knife on his plate. His usually gentle gray-green eyes turned dark, his face red from anger as he stared at her. “Leave Leini be. I know from before, these visits are wearing on her. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.” Papi sank his fork in a piece of chicken breast. “Now let’s eat. Karl is coming for coffee after dinner. I don’t want him to walk in on an argument again. He’s witnessed enough of those.” He squared his large shoulders and glanced at Samy. “Don’t eat with your hands, young man.” Papi pried a piece of chicken from Samy’s greasy fist and replaced it with a spoon.

Papi folded his napkin, placed it next to his plate and stood. “Nice meal, Mira.” The words were kind, but Leini missed the usual warmth in his voice.

Mira gazed at him, the corners of her mouth drooping. “There’s dessert, Robert.”

“Thank you, I don’t want any.” He shook his head. Leini had to tilt her head to see him tower over her as he put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be in the living room if you want to talk.”

After she helped Tatta clear the table and do the dishes, Leini was on her way to join Papi when Mira pushed past her. Leini caught the whiff of a sickening smell. This sour stench often wafted from Mira after a meal. She threw a furtive look at her; Mira’s face was a waxy yellow, forehead gleaming from small beads of perspiration.
Or is it water because she’s washed her face, but didn’t dry it?
Leini speculated and wondered.

Papi gazed at Mira. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, the food must have upset my stomach. I vomited every bit I ate.” Mira sat in the recliner, one of a pair with Papi’s, a low coffee table in the space between them.

So this explains the smell
. Leini wondered what food could have made Mira sick, as she only nibbled on a few straws of grated carrot.

“Again?” Papi asked. “It’s not the first time you’ve vomited this week. Shouldn’t you see a doctor?”

“Certainly not! You know I have a delicate stomach.” Mira lit a cigarette. “Give me a drop of Scotch to settle me.”

On the edge of her chair, Leini looked from Mira to Papi. She read disbelief and irritation as Papi creased eyebrows in vertical lines while he kept staring at Mira. He stood and filled a shot glass with the amber liquid. As she took the glass, Mira’s hand trembled. With a snap of the neck she threw her head back and downed the contents in one gulp. With a plop she set the glass on the table.

“
Ahh
. I feel better already.”

Shaking his head, Papi turned away from her. With a glance at Leini he settled in his favorite easy chair and patted the armrest. “Come sit with me. Do you want to talk about your visit to the doctor?”

Leini sat half on the armrest, half on his lap.

Catching her hand on its way to twine a strand of her hair, Papi put her palm against his own and folded his fingers over hers. She sneaked her hand into the warm nest of his. Leini leaned her cheek against his. She loved his reddish brown hair, combed off his high forehead, the way it curled on the sides and in the neck. As always, Papi smelled good, of cigar and Bay Rum.

When Mira was angry with her and nobody was around to hear, she said Leini was the spitting image of Papi. She was happy to resemble Papi. He was tall with broad shoulders, and his hands were beautiful, fingers long, wrists slim. And he was gentle and kind.

From the corner of her eye, Leini watched Mira pour herself another drink from the bottle on the sideboard. She stood with her back to the room, but from the quick jerk of her head, Leini knew she emptied the glass before she placed it next to the bottle. Mira had a drink “to settle her” almost every night, sometime during the day, too.
If it’s normal for grown ups to drink whiskey after dinner, why doesn’t Papi have one? He only drinks when we have company. When Mira asks for a drink Papi gets red in the face, so maybe he doesn’t like her to have Scotch.

She was puzzled, aware of undercurrents she didn’t understand.

“Leini?” Papi’s voice startled her.

“What, Papi?”

“Want to tell me what the doctor said?”

“The eye man—”

“Listen, girl!” Mira’s voice was like the snap of a whip. She rolled the r’s more than usual, the way she did when she’d had a drink or two. “You’re to say ‘the doctor.’”

“The eye man,” Leini repeated, glaring at Mira, “said he can operate. The operation doesn’t sound like much, but it gets tricky afterward.”

“And the tricky part frightens you?”

“I don’t know. I guess.”

“Did the doctor say it’s urgent?”

Mira tapped ash from her cigarette. “He said her weak eye will get worse if she doesn’t have the operation.”

“No, he didn’t. He said there’s no hurry, and he’ll do it only if I agree.”

“Do you agree?”

She shook her head, hair swirling around her face. “No, I really, really don’t.”

“Well, that settles it then,” Papi said.

Mira uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way. “The girl’s too young to make such a serious decision. We should force her to have this opportunity.”

“She’s almost nine years old and wise for her age,” Papi said. “She can have the operation later. Maybe the procedure will improve in a few years’ time.”

Leini pressed her cheek against his, grateful that he understood. “Exactly what the doctor said. He also said I should make up my own mind, not let anybody push me.” Leini stared at Mira, who looked everywhere but at her.

Mira opened her mouth to argue, but Papi pressed his lips to a thin line, and shook his head. “Enough, Mira. We’ll talk about this later.”

Hearing the doorbell, Leini slid off Papi’s lap and rushed to open the front door. Karl entered on a current of icy air, overcoat on his arm. He hugged Leini, rubbing his cold cheek against hers before he planted a smacking kiss on her forehead. “How’s my girl?”

Leini shrugged.

“What’s with the attitude, Leini? Don’t you talk to me anymore?”

She couldn’t swallow for the lump in her throat, lodged there from Mira’s stubborn insistence that she should have the operation. With her hand in Karl’s, she walked alongside him into the living room. The strip of lights above the curtain lent the room an intimate atmosphere, in sharp contrast to the tension in the air.

After greeting Mira and Papi, Karl sat in the couch corner, stroking the seat next to him for Leini to sit.

Legs curled under her, Leini glanced at his face, tanned from a recent ski trip to the Swiss Alps. He pulled her closer and smiled into her upturned face.

Tatta brought a tray with cups, a coffee pot and cookies she’d baked.

Karl glanced from Mira to Papi. “Did I interrupt something? You look upset, both of you, and Leini hasn’t said a word to me.”

Mira passed the cookies. “Not at all, Karl. We…”

“In fact, we were discussing whether Leini should have an eye operation or not.” Papi’s firm voice cut her off. He puffed on his cigar, let a stream of smoke seep past his lips. He fastened his eyes on Karl as he gave him the details of Leini’s choices, the pros and cons.

Mira sucked deeply on her cigarette and dangled one leg over the other. Papi was still red in the face, perspiration beading on his high forehead. Leini pressed her thin frame against Karl’s side, her fingers busy with a strand of hair.

Karl glanced at her. “Sounds like good news, but from what Papi says you’re dead set against it. Am I right, sweetheart?”

“Yes, you’re right; I don’t want to do it.” Her voice sounded hoarse in her ears.

With a loud clatter Mira slammed her cup in the saucer. “Of course you do. The girl’s eyes are growing worse. The operation is a godsend.”

Papi glared at her. His loud “
Harrumph
” signaled she’d said enough. “Apparently the post-operative phase is risky. It would demand a lot from Leini. Naturally she’s scared. The doctor said he would operate only if she consented to it without pressure. He needs her full cooperation for the operation to succeed.”

Karl glanced at Leini. “You’re not sure you’re ready yet. Is that it?”

“Yes, that’s it exactly. The doctor said there’s no hurry.” She blinked against the tears that tried to pool in her eyes. “I don’t want the operation.”

Karl pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Removing Leini’s glasses, he dabbed at her eyes. “Leini, please don’t cry. You break my heart when you do.” With a hand under her chin, he raised her face level with his to plant a kiss on her forehead. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll make the right choice in time. If you’re afraid, you’re wise to put it off for now.”

Mira followed the exchange, her black eyes fixed on Karl, the corners of her mouth pulled down in disapproval. “This is all a lot of nonsense. It’s for us, her parents, to decide about the operation. After all, we know what’s best for her.”

Before she could get off to a running monologue, Karl interrupted. “Apparently the doctor thinks Leini should have the final say.” Gazing at Leini, he went on. “If you decide not to have the operation, you’re free to change your mind later, but if you decide to go through with it, make sure you do it for the right reason—the only valid reason is that you yourself want it.”