The Wooden Chair (26 page)

“That tall, handsome man? Yes, I remember him. What did he want after all this time?”

“He wants to take me to dinner tomorrow night.”

“From the little you said on the phone, I gather you agreed. Did you?”

“Sure. It’s just dinner.”

“Right. As long as you remember not to let your heart or your hormones monkey up your head.”

Leini grinned. “I won’t.”

* * *

Throughout dinner with Bill, Leini wanted to ask if he found she’d aged enough in two weeks so it was all right for him to see her, but the words were like so many cotton balls crowding in her mouth.

After the waiter placed cups of coffee before them, Bill moved to the edge of his chair and leaned across the table so close his breath caressed her face. “I’m glad you agreed to see me. I wanted to call before, but hesitated because I was afraid you’d be angry.”

She shook her head. “Why would I be angry? You were honest when you told me you think I’m too young.” She grinned. “Or you too old. What made you change your mind?”

After trickling a packet of sugar in his coffee, he kept stirring while his eyes never left her face. “It’s simple; I wanted to see you.”

A nod was her only response.

They left the restaurant and took the long way through the park, a canopy of denuded limbs of sycamore trees dripping, bands of fog swirling. The paths were slippery from fallen leaves, the smell of decay reminiscent of Helsinki in fall.

By her front door, Bill placed both hands on her shoulders. “May I call you again?”

“I wish you would.”

He brushed his lips against her cheek. “I will.” And he was gone.

For a moment she stood by the door, feeling a wistful little smile stretch her lips. In the apartment, Leini undressed, folded each piece of garment with unusual precision. For as long as the water was warm, she stood under the shower. When it turned cold in this old building with its limited cistern, she toweled off. The ringing of the phone made her lunge for the receiver, the cotton nightgown bunched in her armpits.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Bill asked.

“No, I was just getting ready for bed.” Waiting, as breathless as she thought he sounded.

“Are you free tomorrow? May I see you?”

She closed her eyes, heart going a little too fast. “Yes, I’m free. I’d like to see you, too.” And remembered Vickie’s counsel to think with her head.

* * *

On their way to the university next morning, Vickie spoke close to Leini’s ear as they swayed from the overhead straps to the stops and starts and windings of the bus. “Did you have a nice evening with Bill?”

“Very nice.” As much as she tried, she couldn’t keep from smiling.

“Will you see him again? No, stupid me! The question is: when will you see him again?”

Leini shrugged, reluctant to let on how keen she was to see him.

Vickie creased her brow. “What’s that shrug supposed to mean?”

Leini raised her eyes and met Vickie’s stare. “Tonight. I’ll see him tonight and tomorrow night and the night after and any time he wants to see me.” Breathless, she stopped.

Gently, Vickie held the palm of her free hand against the curve of Leini’s cheek. “Leini, be careful, you’re so vulnerable because you’re young and inexperienced. I love you like a sister; I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Vickie eyes scrutinized her face. “That starry-eyed look you have worries me. Are you falling in love with him?”

Leini kept smiling, heart hammering. “Yes, I think so.”

“And I bet it’s the first time?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh dear…”

“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘Oh dear’?”

“Nothing really.” Vickie changed hands on the strap. “Be careful; don’t get too emotionally entangled too fast.”

“Sure. I won’t.”

“I’d like to meet him. If he doesn’t treat you well, I’ll drown him. If he so much as touches a hair on your head, I’ll clobber him, I swear I will.”

“You’ll meet him. Give us some time. And don’t worry, he’ll treat me fine.”

* * *

At first, Leini heeded Vickie’s counsel; she did her best to keep her feelings for Bill in check, in part because she trusted her friend’s opinion, but also because she knew she was emotionally fragile. With the memory of the many heated scenes between Mira and Papi, the angry words and accusations they hurtled at each other still fresh in her mind, she wasn’t sure any relationship between a woman and a man could be a happy union. When she was with Bill she tried to be detached. But the wall she fought to build as protection against emotional entanglements wasn’t sturdy enough in the face of Bill’s honesty, his consistency and gentle ways with her. Little by little, her defenses frayed, and she came to trust she mattered to him, that he cared.

“Mira abandoned me in so many ways,” Leini confided to Vickie on one of the rare nights they were both at home. “Her denigration made me feel unwanted. Deep inside I’m afraid of being abandoned. With Bill I’m special, something I’ve known only with my father, Grandpa and Karl.”

Vickie cocked her head. “These men showed how much they love you. I don’t quite understand why you fear being unwanted and abandoned where Bill is concerned.”

“Isn’t it obvious? Those men are family, I know they love me. I think Bill cares about me, but how can I be sure he won’t somehow betray me? “

“You can’t. There are no guarantees.”

* * *

Sitting by the table close to the phone, Leini now glared at the instrument. The icy fist of fear clutched at her insides as she realized it was too late for Bill to phone.

Last night he brought her to the front door after a concert. Facing him, she stood still, not daring to breathe as his warm soft hands cupped her face. He brushed his lips to hers, a very light touch. He held her tight for several minutes. She trembled, legs unsteady as he took away his arms.

“I have a busy day tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll call you in the evening. Unless you have other plans, I’ll make dinner if you dare test my experimental cooking.”

“Experimental cooking sounds interesting.” She loved that he didn’t take it for granted she was free for him.

“Talk to you tomorrow, around seven. Sweet dreams.” A kiss and the merest touch of tongue on her lips, and he was gone.

Now he’d broken his promise. He’d failed to call. Logic told her there were innumerable reasons to keep him from phoning; a delay in court, a late meeting with colleagues, anything. Unbidden, memories crowded her head; all the slights and nasty comments about her eyes, the wonderful evening she spent with Bo until his brother’s remark about her eyes ruined it all. And Mira leaving her in the marketplace.

Now fear and insecurity made Leini draw into her shell. The voice of dread taunted her she’d been wrong in trusting Bill; he didn’t care about her, she wasn’t important to him. Miserable and lonely, she missed Papi. She was so cold, the way she used to be when Mira rejected her or said something nasty. The hurt, the disappointment were a crushing load she didn’t know how to carry. She dragged herself into the kitchen. In one of the cupboards under the sink she found a bottle of red wine. Before opening it, she glanced at the label;
“Vin de Table,”
cheap cooking wine, but it didn’t really matter. She filled a tumbler half-f, sipped and grimaced at the vinegary taste, so different from the vintage wines Papi taught her to appreciate, so she “would know to drink with dignity.” But after a couple of deep gulps the wine tasted quite all right. Bottle and glass in hand, she returned to the small living room and sat sipping until the pain was but a distant ache, Bill’s betrayal of her trust a low murmur. As the level in the bottle sank, so did her pain and despair dwindle, leaving her mellow inside. Her eyes were so heavy she closed them for just an instant. Her head lolled to the side. Startled, she blinked and wondered why the room swayed and lurched at such crazy angles. As a loud hiccup got away from her, she found it so funny, she giggled. After she kicked off sandals, she staggered to her bed on wobbly legs, stripping off blouse and bra as she went. She threw herself face-down on the bed and closed her eyes to stop the mad world from spinning.

* * *

Vickie slammed pots in the kitchenette as she prepared breakfast. The clamor woke Leini. Her eyes smarted, head throbbed and her fat tongue didn’t want to fit in her mouth, teeth furry. As she sat in bed, nausea rose to burn her throat. With a snivel and slow, very careful movements she lay down again. Her stomach heaved, and a horde of hammers pounded in her head. If only she could fall asleep again and sleep for a day, a year.

Vickie’s loud voice close to her bed made Leini jump. She threw an arm to cover her eyes against the bright light that pierced arrows into her brain.

“I found a near-empty bottle of wine on the living room floor. Made me wonder, but from the way you look, I guess you tied one on last night, huh?” Vickie sat on the side of the bed and stroked a few strands of hair off Leini’s damp forehead.

Leini whimpered. “You don’t have to sound so cheerful. I feel terrible.”

“Yeah, and you wish you were dead. But you won’t die, you just have a humdinger of a hangover.” She grabbed Leini’s hands and pulled. “Come, I’ll help you into the bathroom. A shower will do you good. Then you can tell me why you drank all that wine alone.”

“I don’t know. I only meant to have a glass or two.” Leini gulped air, slammed both hands against her mouth, fell to her knees by the toilet bowl and retched miserably. As she stood under the shower, leaning palms against the wall, head dangling like that of a guilt-ridden puppy, the lukewarm water cleansed her body, but inside she shook to the core. She was ashamed and incredulous that she drank. A lot. Alone.
My gawd, I got drunk—just like Mira.

As she remembered Bill’s betrayal, she wanted to go to bed, turn her back on the world, stay there and sleep until all the pain and loneliness and disappointment were gone. In the medicine cabinet she found a bottle of aspirin, swallowed a couple of pills with a mouthful of water directly from the faucet. Humiliation was like the aftertaste of sour fruit that she’d been so gullible as to believe she meant anything to him.

After some camouflage work to hide the ravages of last night, she left the bathroom. To her relief, Vickie had left. She was too ashamed to face her. “Don’t despair, this too shall pass, as they say. Talk to you in the evening. X, Vickie,” said the scribbled note she’d left on Leini’s pillow.

Leini attended the morning’s lectures in a daze. Contrary to habit, she arrived late, took no notes, sat close to the door in the vast auditorium and snuck out before the lecture was over, not remembering a single word she heard. Her head still throbbed; the pale sun outside aimed sharp darts into her eyes. Donning dark glasses, she decided to skip the afternoon lectures. Heavy and melancholic, she descended the last steps of the wide staircase to the street.
Maybe a walk by the lake will make me feel better.

Startled, about to slip down the remaining steps, a solid grip on her upper arm prevented the fall. “Are you playing incognito? I hardly recognized you behind those oversized dark glasses. I’ve never seen you wear them before.”

Half-turning, she gulped air. “Bill!” Yanking her arm free, she hurried along the street, mindless of where she was going as long as it was away from him, before she started hurtling accusations at him.

He doesn’t owe me anything. We’re not committed, only dated a few times.

“Leini, wait.” He sprinted to keep up with her. Again he grabbed her arm to pull her to him. “What’s the matter? Are you in a hurry?”

Yes, to get away from you before I start bawling and make a complete fool of myself.
“Yes, I’m in a hurry.”

Still holding on to her, Bill draped an arm around her shoulders. “I came to see if you’d care to have lunch with me and to apologize for not phoning last night.”

Confused, she blinked, struggling to swallow against the tightness in her throat. “I waited ’til late. Then I went to bed.”
Well, not quite, but he doesn’t need to know I got drunk because I was dying inside.
“I mean, I thought maybe you didn’t care to see me anymore.”
Didn’t care about me, is what I thought.

“I hope you’re not serious. Not see you anymore! It would be like cutting off my right arm. I usually keep my promises. When I said I’d call, I meant it.”

Was there a trace of displeasure in his voice that she dared doubt him?

“As I was about to leave the office last night, a client with a complicated case insisted on seeing me. When I was finally rid of him, it was past eleven, too late to call, or so I thought.”

“You should have called anyway. Eleven isn’t too late; I don’t go to bed very early.”
To find me drunk and incoherent, most likely slurring my words.
The way she was last night, she could only congratulate herself on her luck he didn’t call; there was no knowing what impossible drivel she would have thrown at him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His hands came up to remove her glasses.

She blinked against the light.

His velvety gray eyes gazed into hers. “Look at me.” And there in the middle of the street with pedestrians rushing by, he wrapped her in his arms, holding her to him. “Leini, my Leini; you’ve been crying. Did I make you cry? I’ll never forgive myself. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Bill. Don’t be sorry. I’m silly, a bit oversensitive.”

After lunch, Bill was in a hurry to be in court on time. Leini made her way home, her step light.
He does care, he isn’t like Mira.
Finding Vickie curled in the beanbag with the newspaper, Leini told her about the evening, about her disappointment, the returning ghosts from the past.

“I was hurting so much, I wanted something to take away the pain. I overdid it with the wine.” She sighed, a sound like a sob. “I’ll never do it again.”

Vickie giggled. “Sure you will. We all say that the morning after. Time goes by, and we forget.” The paper rustled as she turned a page. “Where Bill’s concerned, seems to me you have some growing up to do. You may get away with this kind of immature behavior a few times, but if you want to keep him, you’d better be careful not to chase him away by being too frightened and needy.”