The Wooden Chair (23 page)

* * *

When Leini awoke after the operation, she was lighthearted, almost euphoric the ordeal was behind her. Doctor von Burg found her on the couch dressed in a varicolored jumpsuit, the dappled sunlight shining through the foliage of the sycamores. Munching on a flaky
wienerbrot
, she smiled as the doctor gave her shoulder an affectionate little pat.

“I’m glad to see you’re on your feet. Everything went as planned.” The doctor sank into the chair next to Leini. Pointing at the teapot and crumbs of pasty, she glanced at Leini. “You seem to feel good.”

“I was ravenous.” She dabbed a napkin to her mouth. “Care for a cup of tea? There’s plenty left.”

Holding up a hand, Doctor von Burg shook her head. “Any discomfort in your eye or head?”

With the tips of her fingers Leini touched the bandage. “The eye throbs, but no headache.”

Doctor von Burg stood. “Good. Don’t overdo it. I don’t want you to read during the next couple of days.” She crossed the floor. “You may get bored, but that’s the price you pay. See you tomorrow.” The door closed behind her.

Alone again, Leini stretched on the bed. Not used to inactivity, she thought she’d be bored. But before she knew it, she dosed off. It only seemed a short while when cautious steps approach the bed. After she opened her eye she needed a moment to adjust to the half light in the room. Carefully, she turned to lean on one arm.

“Grandpa! Oh Grandpa, I’m so glad to see you.” She stopped to take a take a deep breath to quell the tears of joy at seeing him. Switching on a light above the bed, she studied him. He looked good, better than he’d sounded the night before. He stood straight, his face ruddy as usual, a twinkle in those pale blue eyes as they gazed at her.

“You sounded so tired when we talked, I thought you were ill.”

Grandpa moved a chair close to the bed. Leaning both hands on his cane, he lowered himself to the seat.

“Not to worry, princess. I was concerned about you, is all.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a bother.” She covered his hand with hers. “It’s almost over now. Dr. von Burg was very optimistic. It’s only a matter of time, then I’ll be better than ever.”

Chapter 23

Vienna, June 1956

The ringing of a bicycle bell, the screechy voice of a newspaper vendor and a burst of laughter reached Leini from the street below. A light breeze twirled the leaves in sycamore trees; it carried with it the smell of summer flowers and exhaust fumes.

Leaning elbows on the balcony railing, Leini let the golden rays of the sun bathe her face, the warmth a joy after all the rain since she arrived in Vienna. Today was D-Day—Doctor von Burg was to remove the bandage from her eye. For the first time Leini would see for herself the result of the surgery, see her eyes look normal. She trusted Doctor von Burg was right…the eye would be straighter. At a knock on the door she left the balcony.

“Good morning, Grandpa. You’re punctual. I think the doctor’s a few minutes late.”

Gingerly, he lowered his bulk to the straight-backed chair. “How do you feel, princess?”

She grinned. “All kinds of things—a little apprehensive and scared. I’m also excited and hopeful. Most of all, I feel confident the result is good.”

As Dr. von Burg and her assistant arrived only minutes later, they set their paraphernalia on the table beside the bed.

Facing Leini, the doctor studied her face. “I’m ready if you are?”

On the chair, Leini sat straight, squeezing hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking. “I guess I’m ready.” She cleared her throat to still a slight quaver in her voice.

Wearing surgical gloves, Doctor von Burg began to remove the tape that held the bandage in place. Layer by layer, she lifted off the bandage, until only thin gauze remained. With a pair of pincers from the tray, she wrapped the last cover around the instrument, taking care not to hurt the eye where the cloth adhered to dried blood. Having bared the eyelid, she snipped off the two tiny stitches that kept it closed.

“A bit of blood and dried tears keep the lid from opening. I’ll take care of it with some cleansing solution.”

The doctor bathed Leini’s eyelid with a cold liquid, then she dabbed a dry cloth at the wetness on Leini’s face.

“Before you open your eye, let me warn you the lids are swollen, and the eye is bloodshot.”

Leini winced. She fumbled for Grandpa’s hand to hold, grasping it so hard he later showed her the half-moon marks in his palm where she dug her nails.

This is it. Nothing in my life has been so important. Please God let it at least look better than before, even if it’s not perfect.

“You can open your eyes now.”

She’d done it innumerable times in the past—a simple gesture like that—opening her eyes, but this time it was the most overwhelming, the most dramatic action.

Grandpa caressed her hand. “Leini?”

Doctor von Burg stood so close Leini inhaled the chamomile scent in her shampoo; she recognized it as one she used herself.

Doctor von Burg’s face held no smile, eyes somber. “Let me look at you.” With a hand under Leini’s chin, the doctor shined a light into Leini’s eye, studying her handiwork. She stepped back, a smile of satisfaction brightening her face.

“Apart from some swelling around the eye, it looks great.” To Grandpa, “Here, Mr. Bauman, what do you think? Isn’t it an improvement?”

Grandpa leaned closer the better to see. After he studied her for a moment, he nodded, his eyes glistening from wetness he did nothing to hide. “It’s a huge improvement. Thank you, Doctor.”

On the edge of the chair, the sunlight from the window illuminating her face, Leini took the mirror Grandpa handed her. After the merest hesitation, she brought it close to her face, staring at the bloodshot eye. She turned her face this way and that, looking at the operated eye from every angle.

Lowering the mirror, she looked from Grandpa to the doctor. “You’ve both lied to me! It’s no different!” She shouted, the agony and disappointment vibrated in her voice, in her stooping shoulders. “The eye is just as crazy as it ever was.”

The doctor sat on the bed by her side. With an arm around Leini’s shoulders she spoke in a calm, reassuring voice. “Stop and think for just a moment, won’t you? You can only see with your left eye. When you try to look at the right one, it very naturally moves along with the other, so of course you see the eye off-center.”

Leini wrinkled her brow.

Chuckling, Dr. von Burg stood. “You don’t believe me, huh?” She rummaged in her roomy bag and returned to Leini’s side, a camera in her hand. “I’m going to snap a photo of you, have it developed so you’ll be able to see the difference for yourself. I’m sure you’ll agree with your grandfather and me. The improvement is quite remarkable.”

When Leini saw her own photo some days later, she believed the eye was indeed parallel with the other.

Amazing!

* * *

Other than a touch of lipstick, Leini hadn’t bothered with cosmetics before. Doctor von Burg cajoled her into learning to apply makeup and recommended a cosmetologist.

“Let Ingeborg do your eyes,” she said. “You’ll be surprised what skillfully applied makeup can accomplish.”

Leini agreed to see her. She was hard put do tell the difference from one eye to the other when Ingeborg was through painting them.

Leini bought eye liner, mascara, eye shadow, brushes and all the necessary supplies. In her hotel room, she experimented with colors and shadow and eyeliner, even artificial lashes, which she threw on the floor in disgust when one was more in the eye than on the lid. She spent close to an hour applying makeup to both eyes, doing her best to imitate Ingeborg. Inspecting the result in the mirror, she stared, appalled. Then she burst out laughing. The makeup on the right eye was like she remembered it from Ingeborg’s demonstration. Applying makeup to her left eye was more touch than go, because she didn’t see what she was doing. As a result, she looked like a raccoon. Determined to persevere, she washed her face and started all over, time and again, until she was pleased with the result.

When she met Grandpa for dinner, he gazed at her across the table. “Great job on your eyes. They look wonderful. If I didn’t know you had a handicap, I’d never guess.”

Pleased, Leini smiled. The operation was a success. Having learned to apply makeup, she knew she looked her best.

Before leaving Vienna, Leini called on Dr. von Burg. They sat in her office, sipping lemonade.

“Grandpa says my eyes look good. Thanks to your skills I no longer feel a freak.” She placed a hand on the doctor’s arm. “It takes another woman to understand surgery alone wasn’t enough. Learning to apply makeup is just as important. I’m very grateful.”

“The best reward is to see you so happy.” The doctor leaned closer to Leini, staring at her face. “I’d like to impart a piece of advice, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. Go ahead.”

“I hope this will serve you in the future—make sure always to keep eye contact with those you’re talking to. Evasiveness will make people scrutinize you, whereas a direct look is more likely to divert their attention.”

Leini lowered her eyes, thinking about what the doctor said. “
Hmm
. Do I avoid looking at people?”

“Yes, often. It’s disconcerting. People try to figure out where you’re looking so they keep staring at you. Part of your program as the new Leini, along with exercises and cosmetics, is a frank face-on look.”

Dwelling on it later, Leini had to admit with something of a shock she did avoid eye contact. Wanting to hide her impaired eyes was only part of the explanation.
Mira never looks at me. I’ve copied her behavior. I’ll make sure never to do it again. I no longer have anything to be shy about. Most of all I don’t want to be like Mira!

* * *

During the return flight to Helsinki, Leini grew worried about Grandpa. He kept wiping perspiration from his face, although it wasn’t too warm on board. He refused food, but accepted a whiskey on the rocks, only to let it sit on the table, untouched. She saw him take a small white pill from his vest pocket, letting it dissolve in his mouth. About to cover his hand with hers, she wanted to ask if there was anything she could do, but he was dozing. She decided to let him rest, leaning closer to listen to his breathing.

During Leini’s stay at the clinic and the ten-day post-operative period, she was aware Grandpa was often short of breath. At mealtimes, he sometimes enjoy his food, sometimes he only ate a forkful or two. She wasn’t able to tempt him into having any of the delicious pastries or cakes he so liked. On one of her forays into city center, she bought him a box of
Mozart Kugeln,
bite-size moist marzipan enrobed in chocolate, knowing he had a weakness for them. Helping him pack, she found the box with only one piece missing…the one she’d eaten. She mentioned her concern to Grandma Britta during their only phone conversation.

“Grandpa is puffing and wheezing. He seems tired, and…Grandma Britta, I’m so scared for him. Is he seriously ill?”

“My dear, Grandpa has heart problems. For now, he’s on medication, but he needs a thorough checkup when you return.”

“Is there anything I can do to help him?”

“He must rest. Short walks, weather permitting. Most importantly, don’t worry, my pet. In a few days you’ll both be home.”

Leini became aware of her surroundings at the loud announcement that they were about to land at Vantaa airport on the outskirts of Helsinki. Next to her, Grandpa stirred.

“Did you have a good nap?”

Behind the back of his hand he yawned. “Indeed. I must have dozed off.”

Turning to face him, she snuck her hand in his. “I don’t have words to express how very grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me, Grandpa.”

“Pah, nonsense, my Leini. I made a commitment to find help for you. I’m delighted it turned out well.”

“I know, and so am I.” Searching her mind for words to express her gratitude and love for him, her eyes blurred and she swallowed against the lump in her throat.
I love him so much. He’s done everything for me—thanks to Grandpa I look normal. What’s more, I feel normal for the first time since the accident with my eye.

Grandpa gave her hand a little squeeze. “I love you, my princess. I would do more for you if I could.”

Chapter 24

Helsinki, June 1956, November 1956

As the plane touched down at Vantaa airport, Leini rummaged in her spacious bag until she located a pair of sunglasses. Donning them, she turned to Grandpa. “Don’t I look very incognito?”

He grinned. “What do you want with those? I’ve never seen you wear sunglasses before. Now you have nothing to hide.”

“To surprise Papi. I want to see his expression when I take them off.”

Grandpa patted her hand. “And a very good surprise it will be.”

As they disembarked, the cool summer breeze ruffled Leini’s hair. The sun was wonderful after the air-conditioning on board. Crossing the tarmac the short distance to the terminal building, Leini eyed Grandpa with concern. He smiled and winked at her. She heaved a sigh of relief.
He’s all right for now
.

As she spotted Grandma Britta, Papi and Mira, she escorted Grandpa through the formality of passport control to the family.

Papi hugged her and planted a smacking kiss on her cheek.

“My Papi, great to see you. Take care of Grandpa, he’s tired. I’ll get our luggage.”

Grandma Britta hugged her, holding her close for a moment. “Welcome home, my dove.” She nodded in Grandpa’s direction in conversation with Papi. “From talking to you and Grandpa over the phone I know the operation was a success, but I want to see for myself. Those sunglasses are a smart move. Keeps the suspense alive.”

Leini grinned. “That’s why I wear them.” She buzzed her cheek, the waft of
L’Air du Temps
so like Grandma Britta.

Mira stood, arms wide, white teeth flashing in a broad smile. She held Leini by the shoulders, her cheek pressed against Leini’s for a brief instant.