The Wooden Chair

by Rayne E. Golay

  With her back against the rear wall of the lift, she worried a strand of hair. So many new people and things. I’m glad Papi’s home, but everything’s different. It makes me a bit scared.

  Chapter 10

  Helsinki, Fall 1946

  As soon as the bell rang to mark the end of yet another school day, the doors to the classrooms burst open, spilling out flocks of youngsters. The entire building echoed from their shouts, shrill laughter and the clattering of running feet. Leini waited until the last group of boisterous boys and girls left the classroom before she joined Paula by the door. Approaching her, Leini smiled into her round face. Paula’s eyes were blue, a bit bulging, which gave her a look of permanent surprise. Side by side, they took the stairs four flights down to ground level. Leini held on to the banister in case her eyes played a trick on her, which would send her tumbling down the stairs. Seeing double had caused her to fall on more than one occasion. When those tumbles happened, she found the ensuing commotion embarrassing—people clustering around her, making a fuss. Cheeks burning, she’d wished she could turn invisible.

  Leini and Paula Bergstrom met on the first day of school. They were both of Swedish mother tongue, fluent enough in Finnish to qualify for an all-Finnish language school. Their family names both started with the letter “B,” which paired them off to share the same desk. Leini excelled in languages; she was happy to help Paula with her English and French lessons. In turn, Paula tutored her in arithmetic, something of a mystery to Leini.

  The overcast afternoon sky swaddled the world in a uniform, monotonous gray, broken only by a narrow strip of faint yellow light on the horizon.

  The two girls plodded home along slippery streets, treacherous from patches of black ice.

  A heavy wool coat and knee-high fleece-lined boots with thick soles kept her warm. Leini wore a lamb’s skin hat with earflaps that tied beneath her chin. Her clothing, a boring, unimaginative brown, turned her olive-hued skin a sickly greenish yellow.

  Grinning, Paula glanced at Leini. “Except for the terrible color, you look like a penguin.”

  “Look who’s talking. Our clothes are almost identical, only yours are blue.”

  Paula giggled. “You’re right. We even walk like penguins. Look.” Locking hands around her back, toes pointed outward, she waddled on stiff legs, taking short mincing steps.

  Leini giggled, and Paula doubled over with laughter, her thick braid knocking her hat to the side.

  “We better stop fooling around,” Paula said. “It’s too cold for games.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Leini saw Paula look at her, a faint smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “What’s the matter? You keep staring at me.”

  Paula’s smile widened. “Would you like to come to celebrate my birthday next week? We’ll only be my mom and papa.” Seeing Leini’s wrinkled brow, she added. “Please say yes, Leini.”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “On the eleventh, next Monday.”

  Leini stopped and stared at Paula. “I can’t believe it! November eleventh is my birthday, too. And you’re as old as I am.” She grinned. “Splendid! We’re twins.”

  Despite the cumbersome clothing and the heavy schoolbag on her shoulder, Paula wrapped her arms around Leini and danced with her in the middle of the street. “We’re more than sisters. We’re twins. That’s really great!” She stopped waltzing with Leini, gazed at her, wonderment in her large blue eyes. “Hi, twin sister. Now you must come to my birthday”

  “I sure would love to. Have to check with my parents, though.”

  Excitement fluttered inside. The invitation was a first for Leini. She remembered the few times she had been to Paula’s house after school to do homework together. They dumped their schoolbags in Paula’s spacious room, furnished in white wicker furniture, the cushions, curtains and bedspread in soft floral pastel colors. In the kitchen Mrs. Bergstrom prepared snacks of homemade donuts or sandwiches spread with chocolate paste. On Leini’s very first visit, Mrs. Bergstrom and Paula’s easy banter and bursts of laughter bewildered her—it was so different from the stiff and cautious interaction she had with Mamma. As Mrs. Bergstrom hugged Paula or caressed her cheek in passing, Leini stared, surprised and a bit embarrassed at such unusual show of affection. Mrs. Bergstrom isn’t at all like Mamma. Then a thought struck her; maybe it was Mamma who was different?

  “Leini?” Paula tugged at her sleeve. “I asked you a question, and you’re not paying attention.”

  The heat of embarrassment creep up her neck. “Sorry, Paula, I was thinking about something. What was your question?”

  “I wanted to know about your father?” Paula asked. “What does he do?”

  “My papi’s in housing.”

  “What? Does he build houses?”

  Leini giggled. “No, silly. He buys houses and apartments, rents and sells them all over Finland. What about your father? What does he do?”

  “Papa’s a diplomat, Foreign Office. He’s often away on missions abroad. When I was younger we moved from one country to the other. This is the longest I’ve been in one place. Mom says I need to stay in Helsinki, go to the same school, so now Papa travels alone while Mom stays here with me.”

  Hope she’ll stay a long time. I’ve never had a best friend before.

  Paula steadied herself as she gingerly stepped across a slick spot. “I haven’t met your mamma. What’s she like?”

  Leini involuntarily sucked in a huge lungful of air and cast about for something to say about her mother. Finally, she blurted out, “My mother is a bank teller.”

  Paula stopped walking to stare at Leini. “What? Your mother works?”

  Leini nodded and tried to smile while a flush burned her face and she was so hot inside her clothes. Mamma’s so different from Paula’s mom. Does that make me different, too?

  * * *

  Leini rushed home to tell Mamma about Paula’s invitation to her birthday party, skipping in the street from happiness at being included. Her steps faltered the closer to home she came.

  By the time Mamma returned from work, Leini had rehearsed and rejected several ways of introducing the subject of the party. Leini noticed Mamma’s jerky movements as she shed her overcoat, the corners of her mouth pulled down as she marched into the living room to the sideboard with the bottle of Scotch and glasses. Unaware of Leini staring at her, Mamma took a couple of gulps straight from the bottle, a furtive glance from side to side as she tamped the plug into the mouth of the bottle before replacing it on the shelf. Holding her breath, Leini softly closed the connecting door to the corridor and returned to her room as quiet as a shadow. This isn’t the right time to talk to Mamma about Paula’s birthday party.

  After dinner, Leini snuggled next to Papi in his chair. She fidgeted and sighed until he lowered his newspaper, gazing at her, a weak smile on his lips.

  “You’re sighing as if the worries of the world weigh on you. What’s on your mind, my Leini?”

  Glancing at Mamma in the easy chair, puffing on a cigarette, Leini pulled at a lock of hair to twine it around her fingers. “Paula invited me to her birthday. It’s on the same day as mine. I want to go.” She kept blinking her eyes. “Please,” she said as an afterthought.

  Papi leaned closer to her. “That’s nice for you. Of course you’ll go. It’s in the afternoon, I guess?”

  “Yes, straight after school, for tea.”

  “Good. You’ll be home for dinner so we can celebrate your birthday in the evening.”

  Huh? I’ve never celebrated a birthday before. Don’t even know what one does to “celebrate.”

  Mamma cleared her throat as if something nasty lodged there. “I guess you have to bring a gift of some kind.”

  Leini didn’t know what to say. Did celebrate mean you brought a gift? What kind of gift?

  “Of course she has to bring a gift,” Papi answered in Leini’s place. He fixed Mamma with a stare. “I count on you to take care of this. Buy something nice for
Leini’s friend.”

  On the day of their birthdays, Mamma cornered Leini as she was getting ready to leave for school.

  “Don’t stay too long at Paula’s, that’s impolite. And don’t eat too much, people might think you don’t get enough food at home.”

  Leini struggled to pull on her boots.

  Mamma grabbed her by the arm so hard Leini moaned from the pinch. “Look at me when I talk to you.”

  Straightening her back, one boot on, the other off, she stared at Mamma.

  “Did you hear what I just said?”

  “Yes, Mamma. I won’t eat and I’ll leave early.”

  Handing Leini a flat packet tied with ribbons, she said, “Here’s a present for your friend.” Opening her school bag, Leini slipped the packet inside, wedged between two books to keep it from creasing.

  “Try to remember to give it to Paula, do you hear?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Mamma.”

  In the lift going down, Leini brushed at the tears pooling in her eyes. Today is my birthday, but nobody seems to remember. It’s as if I didn’t belong to this family. Papi had already left for work before Leini came to breakfast, so he was excused, but Mamma… She heaved a sigh and made up her mind that she was going to have a great day.

  “Ah, Leini, many happy returns on the occasion.” She swiveled around to see Harry, his face lit by a warm smile, eyes sparkling as he planted a kiss on top of her head.

  “Thank you, Harry. I thought nobody remembered my birthday.”

  “How could I forget? I even remember the day you were born. And a sunny day it was, too, for November.”

  “It was? Mamma always says it was a stormy day with the first snowfall.”

  Harry shook his head. “Not on the day you were born, little lamb.” He glanced at the clock above the lift. “You’d better hurry or you’ll be late for school. Have a great day.”

  Wiggling her fingers at him, Leini opened the front door and was met by a fierce wind.

  Later in the day, as they approached Paula’s home together, Leini’s excitement and curiosity jiggled in her chest the closer they drew. In the apartment, they removed their outer clothing in the foyer, dark on this colorless November afternoon. Paula opened the door to the living room, Leini following with slow steps. They were met with a blaze of light. Every lamp in the room was turned on. Flickering candles were scattered about the room, and streamers decorated the embroidered tablecloth; a three-layer chocolate cake sat in the center, eight slim candles aglow. As they entered the room loud voices sang: “Happy, happy birthday. Happy, happy birthday.” Mr. and Mrs. Bergstrom hugged and kissed and laughed, and Leini thought it all seemed like a movie she’d seen starring Elizabeth Taylor. Mrs. Bergstrom gave Leini a peck on the cheek.

  “Happy birthday, Leini. Many happy returns.”

  Leini gazed at Mrs. Bergstrom, breathing in the fragrance of roses, her kind eyes as blue as Paula’s. “Thank you, Mrs. Bergstrom. Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Paula and you are almost sisters, which makes you an almost-daughter, so please call me Berit.”

  Leini curtsied. “Yes. Thank you…Berit.” A faint whisper, the name awkward on her tongue.

  When they were seated around the coffee table and tea had been poured, Paula opened her presents. Shy and insecure, Leini handed her the flat package in baby blue paper with a darker blue ribbon that Mira had given her. It turned out to contain half a dozen handkerchiefs with the letter “P” embroidered in a corner between two pink rosebuds.

  “How neat,” Paula said, unfolding one of the hankies. She gave Leini’s hand a little squeeze as she offered her a square red carton. “This is for you. Happy birthday, twin sister.”

  With hesitation, Leini took the packet to place it on her knees. Glancing at Paula and Mr. and Mrs. Bergstrom, a wave of warm well-being with a dash of shyness washed over her. “Thank you very much.”

  “Hey, open it. See if you like it.”

  Nodding, Leini removed the top. Under a layer of pink silk paper lay a wooden box with asymmetric carvings. Holding it with one hand, she lifted the lid. The interior was lined in sea-green satin with grooves and pockets at the bottom, meant to hold things, Leini thought. Again she glanced from one to the other.

  “See, I got the same.” Paula held an identical box, the wood lighter, the interior dressed in blue. “They’re jewelry boxes, you know, to keep your rings and stuff.”

  “It’s very pretty. I’ll save it for when I have something to put in it. I love it.” Hoping nobody heard the catch in her voice, she cleared her throat.

  “Enjoy,” Mrs. Bergstrom said. “We thought it was fun to get you both the same thing.” She leaned toward Leini and gave her cheek a gentle touch. Draping an arm around Paula’s shoulders, she pulled her close. “I’m happy you two are friends.”

  Forgetting Mamma’s admonition, Leini had a second slice of cake and a gingerbread cookie. As she was getting ready to leave, she cast about in her mind for ways to express her joy and gratitude to Paula and her parents. She curtsied and shook hands, first with Mrs. Bergstrom—Berit—then with Mr. Bergstrom.

  “Thank you. I had a very good time.” That should be all right because Mamma sometimes says it, although afterwards she tells Papi what a boring time she’d had.

  On her way home her feet hardly touched the ground. This is the best time I’ve ever had. Paula’s mother is so kind, not at all severe and…not at all like Mamma. I wish—Not really knowing what she wished, loving the way Paula was with her mother, knowing it was different in her own home.

  “Did you have a good time at the birthday party today?” Papi asked as they were seated around the dinner table.

  “Oh, Papi, it was so swell. There were streamers and lots of candles. Paula gave me this great jewelry box, and I had a piece of chocolate cake. Paula was so pleased with the hankies and….” Breathless, she stopped.

  Papi smiled at her. “I’m happy for you. From the way you talk about her, Paula’s a nice girl. Why don’t you invite her home sometime? You’re often in her home. The polite thing is to reciprocate, you know, invite her back.” Nodding at Mamma, he added, “We’d like to meet her.”

  Leini glanced at Mamma. Busy mashing a potato for Samy, she didn’t look at either Leini or Papi.

  Helping Tatta, their live-in maid, clear the table after the meal, Leini was on her way to the kitchen when she heard two sharp bursts on the doorbell. Grandpa and Grandma Britta! Excited, she almost dropped the stack of dishes she was carrying and ran to see as quickly as she could put down the plates.

  “Happy birthday, my princess.” Lifting her off the floor, Grandpa hugged her to him.

  * * *

  Leini was content to have Paula’s company at least part of the way to and from school. When she slipped on a patch of ice, Leini would have dropped to her knees hadn’t Paula caught her by the arm.

  “Watch out, Leini. Can’t you see where you put your feet?”

  “You know I can’t. When the weather is bleak and foggy like today, everything seems to melt together. I can’t make out dents or see the end of the pavement. I can’t help stumbling and I seem to bump into things a lot.”

  “Gee, I don’t understand how you stand it. You can’t take part in any of the fun at school. You can’t play ball, ski or any of the other stuff we do because you don’t see well. That’s terrible.”

  Reluctant to get drawn into a discussion about her eyes, Leini thought before answering. “It’s not so bad,” she said at length. “Maybe I can’t do any of those things, but I read and listen to music, lots of other things, like the movies. You know I love the movies.” She made her voice firm as if it didn’t matter that she couldn’t take part in sports, or wasn’t one of the crowd

  Leini suffered during these twice-daily treks between home and school. Her eyes ran from the cold, tears freezing on her stiff cheeks. The cold was a fact of life. It was a nuisance, but she didn’t let it bother her. Eventually the weather would break, and th
e snow would thaw.

  Paula took her hand, held it tight. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

  Leini’s reluctance was huge as a boulder inside to be talking about this sensitive matter. “What’s it to you? Why do you want to know?”

  “You’re my almost sister. I want to understand what it’s like for you.”

  “Okay. The ophthal…the eye doctor calls it a visual impairment. It’s quite a handicap. When I was about two years old, it started as a squint. Over time, it grew worse, made me see double every now and then. Now I see double more and more often.” A sob, like a hiccup, got away. “It’s hell every day. Long distance, I hardly see at all. Middle distance, my world is blurry. Up close, I see double.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed I often stumble and walk into obstacles, I send objects crashing to the floor when I misjudge a horizontal surface. I’m afraid all the time—of hurting myself, or breaking things. So far, nothing dramatic has happened.” One day, something may go seriously wrong. She grinned at Paula to hide the sadness inside. “Thanks for listening, for being my only real friend.”

  When Leini finally reached her building, her whole body was stiff from the cold. Harry opened the heavy front door, a welcoming smile on his freckled face. His big paw closed around her arm to keep her from slipping on the icy step. With a deep sigh, like a sob, relief lightened her as she scuttled inside the comforting warmth of the foyer.

  “You made it, Leini,” Harry said. “Such a brave girl.” He held a steaming mug of chocolate to her. “Here. Before you go upstairs, have a hot drink to thaw you.”

  Leini couldn’t see through her glasses, fogged over by the change in temperature. Her lips and face were so stiff from the cold her attempt at a smile turned into a grimace. Before she could remove her mittens Harry held the mug to her lips. She took a few sips of the rich drink, warm and soothing.

  “Pity no trams or buses go to your school.”

  Shrugging, she continued sipping until the mug was empty, as she gazed over the rim at him.

  “Thanks, Harry. That helped. I feel warmer already.” She tried to hug him, but didn’t quite make it for her bulky schoolbag and layers of clothing. With his thumb Harry wiped away the mustache of chocolate on her upper lip. While they waited for the elevator he moved his palm in circles on her back. Appreciating his show of affection, she leaned against his hand. Looking up into his kind blue eyes, a wave of warmth invaded her. I love him like Papi, like Karl. She couldn’t remember ever having seen him in a bad mood. He always wore a kind smile, and a curl of sandy brown hair fell onto his forehead. She didn’t doubt he was a safe presence in her life and she could count on his friendship.