The Wooden Chair (22 page)

“Is Mira generous with material things?” he asked.

“Very generous.” She glanced at him. “Maybe I’m too pragmatic about her, but I think she knows she has nothing to give from inside, so she drowns me in material things. Then I feel guilty for being ungrateful.” She shrugged. “I guess she believes she’s good to me.”

Grandpa patted her hand. “Once the operation’s out of the way and you’ve graduated, you should think about going abroad to study. If money is a problem, you know you can count on me to help. Have you thought of what you’d like to do?”

“Oh yes, Grandpa!” Enthusiasm audible in her voice. “I want to be a writer. I’d like to study journalism in the States, but Papi is dead set against it. He thinks writing is for lazy people who won’t take a respectable job. Maybe I’ll write in my free time.” She sipped her champagne. “I’ll be of age at twenty-one. Then nobody can interfere with what I do. Who knows, maybe I’ll go to the States to study.” She sighed. “In the meantime, I’ve written for documentation from the Geneva University.”

“Apparently you’ve thought about this.” He poured more champagne. “Why don’t you get your driver’s license once we return to Helsinki? Nowadays, a driver’s license is part of general education.”

With a broad smile she leaned close to Grandpa. “You’re a mind reader, I’ve already signed up. The course starts at the end of June. I’ll have enough time here in Vienna to learn the exercises to strengthen the eye after surgery. If I go through with it, that is.”

Grandpa laugh was like a soft purr. “You will. Go through with it, I mean. I’m counting on your common sense and self-respect so nobody can point a finger at you again. I’m glad you have it all planned. You’re quite the independent young lady.” He twirled the stem of his champagne flute between thumb and forefinger. “Now, what will you study in Geneva?”

“Psychology; the program is reputed to be good. I’ll also take sociology and French.”

“Good for you, Leini. Apart from securing a good education, you’ll see some of the world beyond Helsinki. It’s to your credit that you take the initiative. As I said, if you need any help, you come to me. Promise me?”

She squeezed his arm. “Yes, Grandpa, I promise.”

He couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t just as materially oriented as Mira by offering Leini money.
I’m doing the best I can; she knows I love her dearly. What else can I give her but love and money?

Chapter 21

Vienna, June 1956

The appointment with Doctor von Burg was scheduled for mid-morning. Leini rose early and went for a long walk despite the chilly fog. The weather had been miserable during their stay. Returning to her room, she showered and changed into an ivory-colored
Chanel-
style suit, with a gold-yellow silk top.

In the cab on their way to the doctor’s office, Grandpa grew silent, lost in thought—his gaze straight ahead, hands locked on the knob of his cane. Cramping in her neck, arrows of pain shooting up the back of her skull forewarned Leini of an oncoming headache. With a hand in front of her mouth, she tried to suppress a nervous yawn. She kept telling herself this was only a consultation. She was determined to keep her options open, not to let anyone talk her into an operation unless she was sure she wanted it, although the situation was different this time—Grandpa didn’t pressure her.

In the doctor’s office, the receptionist led them to the waiting room. Having only a smattering of school German, Leini deduced they were to be seated.

Shedding his Burberry, Grandpa draped it over his arm.

“The doctor won’t be long,” the receptionist said.

The room didn’t tell Leini anything about the doctor. Vinyl-covered tubular chairs stood against walls on three sides; on the fourth wall pale gray light seeped through tall windows, shaded on the outside by the dense foliage of sycamore trees. On a mock Persian carpet, a plywood and chrome square table held an assortment of glossy magazines. The ordinary doctor’s office, more or less what she expected.

A woman in a white coat entered the reception area.
“Sie sind
Leini Bauman,
nicht war?”
The handshake was firm, her hand warm and dry. Dark brown eyes smiled into Leini’s.

Leini only nodded.

“
Ich bin Doktor von Burg
.”

The woman studied Leini. “You don’t speak German?” Her accent of the more guttural German was barely perceptible.

Her dry mouth and throat wouldn’t let a word through. She coughed behind her hand. “Very little. English would be fine.”

The doctor’s smile brought a dimple in her cheek, eyes dancing, “Then we shall speak English.”

Leini placed her age in the early forties. She wore her short-cut, red-blond hair high off the forehead. A dash of strawberry red lipstick was her only makeup. She led the way into her office, dark save for a spotlight by the examination chair.

The doctor motioned to chairs by a low round table. “Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Bauman. My examination will take a while, so you might be more comfortable in an easy chair.”

Grandpa removed his blazer and hung it over the back of the chair. “This is fine. I prefer these straight chairs.” He patted both knees. “They’re stiff and give me some pain.”

The doctor moved some instruments and pointed at the patient’s chair. “If you please, Miss Bauman, sit over here.” She glanced at her. “May I call you Leini?”

Nodding, Leini found it hard to swallow. She sat, pressing legs together in a futile effort to still their trembling while she concentrated on breathing in and out not to let anxiety overwhelm her. The doctor sat in front of her on a low swivel chair on casters.

Doctor von Burg paused for a moment. “Would you care for some water?”

“Yes, thank you.” Then she took the risk of trusting this woman, at least for now. “I’m so nervous, I think I’ve let myself become dehydrated.”

After she drank most of the cold water in the tall tumbler, Leini rolled the cool glass against her forehead to sooth the pounding in her head.

Taking the near empty tumbler from Leini’s limp fingers, Dr. von Burg studied a thick folder, then leaned close to Leini. “Your case history is interesting. The optic nerve in your right eye was damaged when the stitches tore after initial surgery. As I wrote in my letter to your grandfather, nothing can repair that injury. Do you understand this, Leini?”

“Yes. My grandfather made it clear you won’t be able to repair the damage already done. I understand you have another solution. I’m not sure what I want to do, but I’d like to hear what you propose.”
Gee, that was a long speech. I’m usually totally tongue-tied in front of an ophthalmologist.
Less tense now, she grinned.

“I will need to examine both your eyes, but I can tell you this much: through a fairly simple surgical procedure I can straighten your right eye.” She tapped lightly with a forefinger under Leini’s bad eye. “Because it’s blind it won’t synchronize with the left one—it will always remain a bit lazy. Are you with me so far?”

Leini cleared her throat to steady her voice. “Yes, Doctor. I expected this much.”

“Good. Now, I’d like to examine you.”

Leini gripped the armrests so hard her hands cramped. Dr. von Burg patted one of them. “I know this must be difficult for you. Try to relax. Nothing I do is painful, and I’ll explain every step I take. Okay, Leini?”

“Yes, okay, Doctor.”

And so it began. Leini had been through many examinations, but nothing to compare with this scrutiny.

The doctor held a small vial in her hand. “These drops will make your eyes insensitive so I can touch them for a reading of internal pressure.”

Next, she showed Leini a set of glass prisms, explaining their use. “These are to measure the percentage of correction to bring the right eye to the center in the socket.”

When the doctor was through, she switched on the overhead lights and handed Leini some tissue to dry her eyes. “That wasn’t too bad, was it, Leini?”

“It’s never bad, other than in my mind. I hate these examinations.” She tried to laugh to take the sting off the words. “I can’t stand having my head or face touched.”

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?