The Wooden Chair (14 page)

Leini didn’t hesitate for an instant. “Good—let any other girl have the operation in my place.”

“You’re disrespectful and impertinent, young girl.” Mira’s eyes were dark and hard. “I’m thinking of what’s best for you. Imagine having to go through life looking like Debbie.”

Leini didn’t answer. Anxiety trapped her chest in an iron cage. She struggled to pull enough air into her lungs. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling, blinked to halt the tears that threatened. She wouldn’t give Mira the satisfaction to see her cry.

Mira lit one of her innumerable cigarettes. “I don’t want my daughter to look like a freak.”

“Debbie doesn’t look like a freak,” Leini said. “She has a bad eye, is all.”

“If you don’t take this opportunity, you may end up having those ugly eyes.” Mira’s voice grew hard and persuasive. “You’ll have no friends. Boys won’t want to be seen with you. You’ll look repulsive, and you’ll be alone.”

What she says is silly. What difference would an eye operation make? I always feel alone.

Mira puffed on her cigarette. “I’d be ashamed to have a daughter who’s so ugly.”

With a snap of her head, Leini turned to gaze at her. If she gave in and had the operation, would Mira like her more? Maybe she’d be nicer. If she was pretty, had perfect eyes, maybe Mira would love her? Her need for Mira’s love was like a hunger, and the thought of having eyes like Debbie’s terrified her.

Mira sat next to her, hand clutching Leini’s upper arm. “Listen, girl, do it for me. I want you to be pretty. Maybe you’ll even look a little like me.” She patted Leini’s hand. “You have everything to gain, nothing to lose. What do you say?” Mira didn’t come right out and say she’d love her if her eyes were pretty, but Leini hoped that was what she meant.

“Will you like me if I have good eyes? If I’m beautiful like you?”

“Of course I will.” Spoken without an instant’s hesitation.

Leini crossed her hands, squeezing them hard between her knees, and spoke the words.

“I’ll do it.”

Mira sat still. “Say it again. Just to make sure.”

Leini took a deep breath. “I’ll have the operation.”

“Hey, that’s wonderful. Oh, I’m so happy. You’ll see, everything—”

Leini cut her off. “I don’t want to talk about it. I said I’ll do it. It’s enough.” Jumping to her feet, she left on the run. In her room, she slammed the door so hard the window rattled. With a soft sob she sank to the floor with her back against it. Sitting cross-legged, arms limp in her lap, she cried from desolation and fear and a bottomless sadness.

Hidden deep inside was the hope she always nurtured—with a good pair of eyes she would be beautiful. Then Mira would love her.

While she did her homework, Leini heard Mira talk to Papi on the phone. Her voice vibrated from triumph. “Just like that, she came to me and said she’s had time to think. She wants the operation.”

Blistering heat of anger cursed through Leini at the blatant lie.
I didn’t ask her for the operation. I’m having it only because it will make me beautiful, so Mira will love me.

Returning from work in the evening, Papi gave Leini the LP records of Tchaikovsky’s
Piano Concerto
, one she loved and had hoped to have one day.

“Those are for being my courageous girl, and this,” he said, handing her a potted hyacinth, “is because I love you and want you to know I’ll be with you all the way.”

The perfume of the hyacinth filled her room.
Papi always knows to do the right thing.
She sighed, love for him like a song.

* * *

Grandpa and Grandma Britta didn’t express an opinion about the operation. They let Leini know Mira told them it was a possibility, but they also insisted nobody should force her if she wasn’t willing to undergo the procedure. The doctor wanted for her to decide on her own.

“The choice is yours, Leini,” Grandma Britta said during one of Leini’s frequent visits, shortly after she met Debbie. “You’re the one to have the operation. Only you can decide whether or not to go through with it. You must do what feels right.” She caressed Leini’s hand. “If you have the operation now and something goes wrong, the damage may be permanent. Later will not be too late, my pet.”

Grandpa smiled and ruffled her hair playfully. “Whatever you decide will be all right by me.”

Smoothing Leini’s hair, Grandma Britta’s touch was feathery and tender. “This is so important, sweetie. Think about it; don’t let anybody—nobody, you hear?—talk you into it. Whether you have the operation or not, Grandpa and I love you.”

Everybody—Papi, Karl and now Grandma Britta—imply the “somebody” forcing me is Mira. Why don’t they say so straight out?
Why don’t they tell her to leave me alone?

The day after Mira broke Leini’s will and made her give in to having the operation, Mira called Doctor Kallio for an appointment. Then she called Grandma Britta to announce the news that Leini decided to have the surgery. Leini overheard only Mira’s side of the conversation. She deduced Grandma Britta wanted to come over right away.

“It’s late,” Mira said. “Tomorrow would be better. Or the next day.” After listening for a moment, she replaced the receiver in the cradle. She huffed, voice shaking with indignation. “Your grandparents insist on coming to visit right now.”

Leini hovered by the front door, impatient for them to arrive. She hoped they approved of her decision, afraid they wouldn’t. When she heard the elevator hum she opened the door to let them in. Leini clung to them close to tears from anxiety. “Grandma Britta, Grandpa. I’m so glad you’re here.”

They joined Papi in the living room. Mira brought cups of coffee and gingerbread biscuits on a tray. For Leini there was a mug of “silver tea”—hot water with milk and honey.

Feeling Grandpa’s stare, Leini glanced at him. His eyes were searching, intense. “Are you sure this is what you want, my princess?”

She tried to shrink into the upholstery. “I guess so, Grandpa.”

“This is important, Leini girl. Let’s talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about anymore.” The corners of Mira’s mouth pulled down in irritation that her authority was perhaps being questioned. “Leini’s made up her mind, thank God. Now we can get on with the arrangements.” She bounced her foot up and down. “We have an appointment with Doctor Kallio next week.”

Leini slipped her hand in Papi’s and held on tight.

Grandpa continued to gaze at Leini. “Does the operation frighten you?” As if he hadn’t heard Mira.

“Not really,” Leini said.

Grandma Britta hadn’t uttered a word. She sat quiet, sipping her coffee, studying Leini’s face with her kind gray eyes. “Are you afraid something will go wrong afterwards?”

Leini nodded, the effort to smile making the small muscles in her cheeks burn. She was relieved Grandma understood. Again her tight throat threatened to choke her as she fought the tears.

“Nonsense.” Mira’s sharp voice rang loud. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. She’ll be in excellent hands.”

Papi leaned forearms on knees, staring at Mira. “Have you no empathy at all? Leini is facing a lot of unknowns. The hospital, spending time away from her family with foreign people are enough to frighten any child. She’s facing an operation with a difficult recovery. Of course she’s afraid—she has the right to be. If you don’t understand it, there’s something wrong with you. Now quit minimizing this like it’s the case of a mild cold.”

Mira opened her mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it. Instead, she took deep puffs of her cigarette, roses blooming on her otherwise pale cheeks.

Next to her on the couch, Papi draped an arm around Leini’s shoulder. “She’s entitled to her feelings. It’s normal, even healthy to be afraid, considering that this operation concerns her and her eyes.” He hugged her close. “You’re very brave, Papi’s proud of you.”

With some effort, puffing from exertion, Grandpa stood from the soft cushions of the armchair, muttering about the pain in his knees. He pulled Leini to her feet to wrap his hands around hers and held them pressed to his heart, eyes never leaving her face.

“I promise you, Leini, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. You’ll have a private night nurse for as long as there’s the smallest risk of anything going wrong. I’ll make sure you get the best treatment and care.” He took her in his arms. “Grandma Britta and I will be with you all the time. And Papi, too. I’m proud of you, my princess.” He glanced at Mira, sitting on the edge of the chair, her back straight, shoulders back, busy stirring her coffee. He planted a kiss on top of Leini’s head.

“God willing, you’ve made the right choice.”

* * *

Papi opened the door to Leini’s room and gazed at her as she reclined on the couch. The poetic notes of Tchaikovsky’s
Piano Concerto
on the record player was barely perceptible, the room in half light seeping in through the window.

“May I come in, my Leini?”

She loved this about Papi; he always asked, didn’t take things for granted where she was concerned, just because she was a child. Seated next to him, her hand in his, legs curled under her, she felt special because she knew Papi loved her.

“It’s only midafternoon. Why aren’t you at work?”

“You didn’t go to school because of all the tests at the clinic, so I decided to come home early, spend some time with you as this is your last day at home. Tomorrow morning you’ll be entering the clinic.”

She nodded, wishing she hadn’t agreed to the operation or could put it off to some distant future date.

“How are you doing, my angel?”

With a shrug she pulled a lock from behind her ear to twirl it around her fingers. “Okay, I guess.”

“Would you like to go to a movie tonight? Take your mind off tomorrow, you know.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t you phone Paula, see if she would like to come visit later in the day.”

Leini’s heart made a little leap of joy. “Yes, Papi. That’s a great idea.” She glanced at the clock on her desk. “I’ll wait to call her until she’s home from school.” She leaned her cheek against his shoulder while she played with his fingers. “Thanks for thinking of it.”

* * *

Hovering by the front door, Leini threw it open as soon as she heard the bell.

“Hi, Paula. You made it.”

Paula took off her outer garments in the hall. “Wow. I feel a ton lighter without those clothes.”

Playing a game of checkers in Leini’s room, they nibbled on the mix of raisins and nuts, sipping the hot chocolate Tatta had prepared.

Paula glanced at Leini. “Hey, are you asleep? It’s your move.”

Leini’s attention wandered, fear squeezing her insides.
Tomorrow night at this time I’ll be in the clinic.
A frisson shook her. She made her move. “Sorry, Paula. I’m awake, just thinking of something else.”

“Thinking about the operation?”

Shrugging, Leini sat with knees pulled to her chin, hands wrapped around her legs. “The whole thing, the clinic, the operation ….” She closed her eyes against the tears she didn’t want Paula to see.

“My ma says you’re terribly courageous to go through with it. By the way, Ma and Pop sent you their best regards. I’ll come visit you with Ma, if it’s okay with you.”

Another new element—Leini hadn’t thought of visitors. In her mind the operation was a very private thing. It concerned only her. She hadn’t considered friends would want to visit her. Looking at Paula from under her brow, Leini sighed.

“That would be real nice, but let’s see how things are after the operation. That’s going to be the really tough part.”

Paula smiled. “Tomorrow’s our birthday.” She rummaged in the rucksack she always carried. “This isn’t a real birthday present. We’ll celebrate when all this is over.” She handed Leini a box of chocolates. “Pop brought this from Sweden. Think of me every time you have a piece. They’re yummy.”

Heat rose to cover Leini’s face. She didn’t have a gift for Paula. In fact, she’d forgotten all about their birthday. “Thanks heaps. Say thank you to your pop. I’m sorry I didn’t think of giving you a gift, but I’ll get you something nice once I’m home again.”

In the hall, as she prepared to leave, Paula gazed at Leini. “It’s great how brave you are. I’ll be thinking of you.”

In bed that night she remembered Grandpa’s words a few days ago, God willing she’d made the right choice. Eyes closed, hands pressed to her chest, she whispered, “Please, let me be beautiful.”

Chapter 14

Helsinki, November 1947

In the cab, Leini sat straight as a rod, hands limp in her lap. Beside her, Mira kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. She lit a cigarette, took one puff then crushed it in the ashtray only to light another moments later.

Leini gazed out the window at the dusky midday sky. It hit her like a sledgehammer that she could as well have been on another continent, very disconnected from everything ordinary. She’d give anything to be normal like the busy pedestrians rushing here and there as they went about their everyday business,

The cab pulled in front of the brightly illuminated clinic entrance, its warm light a false welcome. While Mira paid the cabbie, Leini sat motionless, staring at the glum day. She thrust hands deep in the pockets of her warm winter coat.

With an elbow Mira poked her in the ribs. “We’re here. Get out. Hurry now.”

At the registration desk, Mira signed some papers, exchanged a few words with the intake administrator, smiled with tight lips and led the way to the elevator.

“What’s wrong with you, girl? Usually your tongue never stops flapping, but you haven’t said a word since we left home.”

With a deep sigh, Leini shook her head. She had nothing to say.

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, and Mira hurried Leini to the nurses’ station. She gave their name, and a nurse led the way to the last room at the end of a long corridor.

Leini stopped in front of the wide gray-green door, staring transfixed at the name tag inserted in a small white metal frame: BAUMAN, LEINI RUTH.

Paralyzed with anxiety, she could neither turn to walk away from this terrifying situation, nor did she have the strength to open the door and enter to face the unknown.