Leini now punched the pillows to get a more comfortable position while she expected Mira’s weekly phone call, a habit she established after Papi passed a few years ago. When the phone rang she answered on the first ring. “Hello, Mira?”
“No, this is Samy.”
Puzzled, she creased her brow. Samy wasn’t in the habit of calling her. Then her heart started slamming in her breast.
Must be serious if he is phoning me.
“Hi. How are you?” Playing for time.
“I’m calling about Mamma. There’s no gentle way to say this.” For an instant, the line went silent. “Mamma passed away earlier this morning.”
Leini sat straight in the bed, her breath caught on an intake of air. “What are you saying? How…what happened?”
“I went to visit her, as I usually do on Sundays. When she didn’t open the door on my ring, I used my own key to let myself in. I found her in bed, unresponsive, so I called for an ambulance. When she got to the hospital, it was too late.” A pause, as over the line, she heard him sniffle. “Mamma’s gone.”
Distraught and unfocused, she twined a lock of hair, pulling at it hard. After releasing the tress, she rubbed at the burning spot.
“Oh, Samy, I’m sorry.” And wished she had better words, more words to express her sadness, to share in his pain. “As soon as I get off the phone I’ll make arrangements to come to Helsinki with Bill and Hannele. We’ll be on the first available flight.”
“Please do. We need to be together.”
Replacing the receiver, reluctant, Leini left the shelter of her bed. She craved Bill’s presence, needed to talk to him and Hannele.
* * *
Outside the old apartment building, as she was about to sit next to Bill in the car on their way to see her mother to her final resting place, Leini caught sight of the Finnish flag flying at half mast.
In keeping with the country’s custom, Harry flew the flag to announce a life had ended for one of the residents in the building. Tears pooled in her eyes at the sight. The flag’s true blue cross against its white background always moved her, this proud symbol of young Finland’s independence.
“So many people,” Leini whispered to Samy at the cemetery, her breath a white cloud in the cold air. A light snowfall accompanied them into the chapel that kept filling with relatives and friends come to pay their last respects to Mira, their condolences to the family. Leini pulled the coat tighter around her. Catching Harry smiling at her, she wiggled her fingers in response.
Dear Harry, retiring at the end of the year. He’s been in my life since after the War, like a father.
How well she remembered
how he used to caress circles on her back when she was a young girl, home from school, cold after the long trek, headachy after too many hours of eye strain.
With Hannele by her side, Bill on the other, Yigal next to him, Leini sat in the front pew. A hand fell on her shoulder. Turning, she recognized Karl, half turned to kiss him on the cheek. What a blessing that he was about to liquidate his antique business and apartment in Helsinki.
He’ll live near us in Geneva; we can visit, be a family.
Out of the corner of her eye, she recognized Paula. Leini raised a hand and blew her a kiss.
Sweet, sweet Paula, my only friend from childhood.
Gratitude moved inside that she’d come, reminding herself to invite her to the apartment after the funeral, for coffee.
Before leaving Geneva, Leini phoned Vickie to tell her about Mira.
“My deepest sympathy, Leini. I wish I could be with you now, but my job won’t allow it on such short notice.”
“Thank you, I know you would.”
“Maybe it’s comforting to think Mira’s at peace now.” Vickie’s tone had been sincere. “Despite drinking to excess and a severe food problem, she’s lived to be quite old, which is amazing.”
“Poor Mira, she never knew how to let go. Maybe hanging on helped her survive all these years.”
“Happy landing. My thoughts are with you.”
Dear Vickie. What a faithful friend. Most likely, Bill and I wouldn’t be together today if it hadn’t been for Vickie’s intervention all those years ago when I wanted to leave him, fearful of being hurt.
The day before the funeral, Leini took a quick look into freezer and fridge in Mira’s apartment. She was stunned to discover quantities of food enough to feed a large family for a month. The medicine cabinet in the bedroom as well as Mira’s bedside table were cram-f of tranquilizers and sleeping pills. When she found several vials of a potent diet pill, she stood for a long time, amazed but also saddened at what she understood was Mira’s distorted body image. At the time of her death she weighed no more than eighty-five pounds, but judging by the diet pills she still believed she was overweight. Leini had another shock as she discovered bottle after bottle of alcohol in the well-stocked bar, but also squirreled away in the linen closet and under Mira’s bed.
The funeral ceremony was short—a prayer; a man Leini didn’t recognize gave a speech meant to bring solace to the family; another prayer, and it was over.
Outside, the flurry of snow had stopped. As the pall bearers carried the coffin, the air was chilly and still. The distance to the open grave was but a few paces.
Such a short journey after a long life.
Bill draped his arms around Leini’s and Hannele’s shoulders. Yigal stood on Leini’s other side, an arm hooked in hers. The memory of Papi’s passing eight years ago was vivid in Leini’s mind. Then, too, she learned the news about it over the phone. Mira called, her tearful voice ringing in Leini’s ear.
“It’s too much. I can’t believe he’s gone. Just like that, snuffed out like a candle.”
“Was he all right before?” Leini needed to understand, to find meaning in the meaningless.
“Of course he was.” Mira hiccupped. “He had his annual checkup last week. He was fine, apart from high cholesterol, but he took pills. This morning he was about to have his breakfast. He said, cholesterol or no cholesterol, he wanted two eggs fried sunny side up. He started eating. I heard clatter. When I looked at him, he was slumped over his plate.” Mira’s voice was thick as if her mouth was stuffed with gauze. “I tried to move him. He was so heavy.”
A sob left Leini’s lips, the tears cold on her cheeks.
Papi, too, was buried during a snowfall, the world so silent Leini thought she could hear the flakes fall to the ground.
Eight years. Time heals, but I’ll always miss him terribly
.
Samy now recited the mourner’s prayer over their mother’s open grave.
He
took a shovelful of earth and let it drop on the coffin.
In turn, Leini took a step forward. Shaking her head at the proffered spade, she scooped a fistful of soil. Opening her hand, she let the earth drop onto the coffin together with a single white rose. As she heard the hollow thud of earth on wood, Leini shivered at the dull sound of finality.
“Good bye, Mamma.”
The End
About the Author
Rayne E. Golay was born in Helsinki. After receiving her master’s degree in psychology, she studied chemical dependence and related disorders in the United States and England. She moved to Geneva and worked in a multinational company as their employee assistance professional and addictions counselor. In this job, she was responsible for the company’s all-European subsidiaries. During her twenty-five years of employment, she wrote two nonfiction books, one on alcoholism and another on dysfunction in the workplace. She also wrote the script for
Something of the Danger That Exists
, a 50-minute film used within the company as part of an educational program she facilitated.
Rayne is a past two-term president of Southwest Florida Romance Writers Association, and a member of both Romance Writers of America and Gulf Coast Writers Association.
She makes her home in southwest Florida with her husband, David.
The award-winning novel
The Wooden Chair
is her second book.
www.raynegolay.com