Smiling, she waved. “Thanks a lot.”
In the elevator, she punched the button to the fifth floor. With stiff fingers Leini fumbled in her schoolbag until she located the key to the apartment and let herself inside. In the hall, she switched on the light and peeled off the outer clothing until she was down to her pleated marine blue skirt and blue pullover, hating the color because she knew it turned her olive complexion an anemic pale yellow.
“Tatta, I’m home,” she called toward the kitchen to their maid living with them since Papi was released from the hospital after the war. As there was no answer. Leini crossed the hall and pushed open the swinging door. Tatta stood by the sink dicing vegetables. She turned in Leini’s direction, her profile sharp with its pointed nose and chin, the lips so thin they were lost in vertical feathery wrinkles around her mouth.
“I’m home,” Leini said again. She leaned her behind against the wall to put on her slippers.
Tatta gave Leini a cold stare from watery blue eyes. “I heard you.” She spoke Finnish with a slight accent, the consonants hard, a giveaway of her Russian origins. She nodded in the direction of the counter. “There’s an orange and some raisins and almonds.”
“Thanks, I don’t want any. I had a mug of chocolate with Harry.” She turned. “I’m going to do my homework,” she threw over her shoulder as she let the door swing shut.
Chapter 11
Helsinki, Fall 1947
Somebody had turned off the wall light, so the long corridor to Leini’s suite of rooms was dark. She stumbled, but managed not to land on her knees by leaning against the wall. Must be Samy who’s switched off the lamp. For her sake the light was supposed to be on day and night, but Samy—the little beast—never missed an opportunity to cause her trouble. As she opened the door too the suite, she found him kneeling on her desk chair, his head with its shock of blue-black curls bent over some papers. As she approached, she discovered him busy doing artwork with crayons on her piano score.
Red dots flickered before her eyes. Her whole body shook from anger that Samy was in her room, handling her things.
“What do you think you’re doing in my room?” She couldn’t help but shout. Her loud voice made Samy jump. As she drew closer his guilty look turned sly.
“I can be here if I want to. Mamma says I can do anything I want.”
“No, you can’t. Papi’s told you over and over you’re not supposed to be in my rooms. Now you’ve ruined my piano score! And my crayons.” She held out her palm with a few mashed colorful batons. “Look at them! You’ve crushed them against the paper, now they’re useless.”
He stared at her out of large eyes, a smirk on his rosebud of a mouth. With his broad, stubby fingers Samy broke a crayon in half. “So what? It’s only paper and a few silly sticks of wax.”
“You stupid boy, they’re expensive. Papi bought them for me.”
Leini grabbed him by the arm. Almost six years his senior, she was taller and stronger. With a yank she pulled him from the chair. His behind hit the floor, and he started howling at the top of his voice. Kneeling next to him, she shook him.
“Keep quiet. Samy! Shut your mouth.”
He screamed even louder.
“What’s going on here?”
Rising to her feet, Leini faced Mamma as she advanced on her. Mamma pulled Leini by the ear and twisted it, a burning punishment that hurt for several hours. Gathering Samy in her arms, Mamma crooned to him tender words of comfort. Setting Samy on the couch by the window, Mamma rounded on Leini.
“You hateful brat. How many times do I have to tell you to leave Samy alone! You’re older and should have more sense, but you behave like the ungrateful snot-nosed twerp you are.”
“He’s ruined my piano score and crayons. Anyway, he’s not supposed to be in my rooms when I’m not here.” Staring at Mamma, she tried to catch her eye, but Mamma kept her gaze fixed at a point above Leini’s head.
Mamma took a step closer, her hand raised to strike. “Don’t you dare talk back at me. How many times do I have to tell you a good girl doesn’t have fits of temper? Very obviously you’re not a nice girl.”
Leini faced her. She stretched to her full height, head held high, back straight as if she’d swallowed a rod. With lips pursed, she stared Mamma full in the face.
“I am a nice girl. I am not a brat or a twerp. Don’t say that again, Mira. Ever!”
Her voice was strong and firm, but her heart hammer hard in her chest and echoed at the base of her skull. She found it difficult to believe she’d dared defy Mamma.
This was the first time Leini called her Mira.
On that very day, at that precise moment, she ceased to look upon Mira as her mother. Mira was a woman who was a painful part of her life, nothing more.
Rooted to the spot, Mira leaned forward from the waist. Leini saw her arm raised to strike. She looked at Mira, an intent, unwavering stare. Their eyes met, measuring, guarded, engaged in a battle of wills. Mira averted her eyes first. She let her arm drop to her side.
“You’re to stay in your rooms tonight.” Mira’s voice was flat. “You’ll get your dinner on a tray.”
Good! Papi isn’t home, so I don’t have to watch Mira play with her food, and Samy eat like a pig.
“And don’t forget the appointment with the eye doctor tomorrow morning. I want you clean and dressed at ten sharp. Don’t be late, because I have to be at work in the afternoon.”
Leini had forgotten about the doctor’s appointment. At the reminder an iron fist squeezed her insides; her mouth was so dry her tongue was like a piece of leather. There had been so many visits to ophthalmologists in the past. The outcome was always the same—her eye problem was serious. No cure existed. She wore corrective glasses, but they did little to improve her vision.
When Leini didn’t answer, Mira took a step closer. “Did you hear what I said?”
“I heard you.” She didn’t add “Mamma,” as Mira always demanded.
Mira took Samy in her arms and with heels clattering on the parquet she slammed the door as she left the room.
For a moment Leini stood motionless. Hopelessness and fear roiled inside. She leaned her back against the wall and slid to the floor, arms encircling her knees. As long as anger burned within her, she didn’t hesitate to defy Mira, but now that she was calm again, she knew she was no match for Mira. I’m still afraid of her. She has all the power. Hot tears burned Leini’s eyes. Although she was shaking inside, not a sound escaped her.
* * *
The next morning Leini couldn’t eat breakfast. Her throat was so tight she very nearly choked on a piece of toast. Like a stone, fear lodged in her stomach. Every time she saw the ophthalmologist was an ordeal. The mere thought of somebody touching her face or head caused her to shudder from dread.
Mira emerged from her room, dressed and made up. Leini wrinkled her nose at the heavy stench of her perfume. They didn’t exchange a word as they put on their overcoats and took the elevator to the ground floor. Mira nodded at Harry and wished him good morning. As he gave her the thumbs up, Leini wiggled her fingers at him.
They arrived in the doctor’s office a few minutes ahead of time. Mira sat in the chair opposite the door to the examination room. She patted the seat by her side for Leini to sit. Defying her, Leini chose the couch across the room.
The secretary opened the door to Doctor Kallio’s office and motioned for them to enter. Leini’s heart leaped in her chest, and she rubbed moist hands against her skirt.
Leini liked the doctor. He was so gentle and patient, her anxiety shrank to manageable size, and she could breathe again. The doctor always talked directly to her, not like most adults, who spoke to Mira as if Leini didn’t exist or was too dumb to understand.
“There,” he said, as he finished his examination. He switched off the instrument light. “I’m done.”
With his help Leini put on her glasses. Doctor Kallio took a long time writing his notes. The silence grew. Leini kicked the he
el of her shoe against the chair leg. Mira, outside the pool of soft yellow light, raised a finger and shook her head at Leini to stop her fidgeting.
The doctor stroked his shaggy mustache, the color of sand. Gazing at Leini, he patted her hand. “It doesn’t look good, Leini. The strabismus—the squint—on your right eye is worse than during your last checkup six months ago.”
Leini read compassion in his kind eyes The skin around them was wrinkled, although she didn’t think he was very old. She nodded.
Mira stirred. “Isn’t there anything you can do? The poor girl is suffering.”
“Of course you’re suffering,” he said, squeezing Leini’s hand. “There’s surgery, but the procedure is in its experimental stages. I’ve studied the method in Chicago. I can operate, but the post-operative phase is the cause of most failures.”
“Would an operation help her?” Mira asked.
Everything in Leini rose to scream against an operation. She didn’t want surgery, and that was final.
“Yes, the operation itself would help. In Leini’s case, this is what I would do.”
In simple terms the doctor explained the protocol. Leini followed his outline. It sounded uncomplicated. It also sounded terrifying because he was talking about operating on her eye. She would be given full anesthesia so she wouldn’t feel any pain during surgery.
“The first week following the operation is crucial for the outcome. You would have to lay very still, not move your head at all until the healing is well on its way. I won’t minimize the importance of the period after surgery. The stitches that hold the eye muscles will be attached to a little piece of metal, like a bridge that’s taped to your forehead and cheek.”
He touched her forehead just above the eyebrow and her cheek under the eye. “It’s extremely important this holder doesn’t move.” He leaned forward on his stool and took Leini’s chin in his hand. “If it’s disturbed before the eye muscles are healed, the stitches could come undone. I cannot predict what this would do to your eye.”
Leini shuddered.
“When can you operate?” Mira asked.
Leini glared at her. Hadn’t she heard a word of what the doctor said?
“Not before Leini is willing and ready to undergo it. If I operate, I will need your full cooperation, or it won’t be a success. Alone, I can’t do it. You have to help me—by being very still.” He emphasized each word by tapping her wrist with his slim forefinger. “It’s terrible to put such a burden on somebody so young, but I can only do so much. If you’re not certain you can take the boredom and discomfort of lying still on your back for a week….” Doctor Kallio shrugged, spreading his arms in a gesture of surrender. “It’s difficult at your age to be still. A whole week of lying on your back can be tough. You won’t be allowed to read or even turn your head.”
Leini nodded. Her free hand was busy twining a lock of hair. She pulled it so tight she almost winced from the twinge on the scalp.
“What’s your recommendation?” Mira asked.
He turned to stare at her.
“Leini’s pathology is congenital.” The smile he gave Leini brought out small feathery wrinkles at the outer corners of his eyes. “Something you were born with. There is no chance of outgrowing it, not even in puberty. Your right eye turns more and more outward. I don’t know how to stop it.” The doctor glanced at her file. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be nine next month.”
He nodded. “You’re still very young. There’s no emergency. If you decide not to have the operation now, it won’t be too late a couple of years from now.”
Her fingers twined and untwined the lock.
Doctor Kallio reached to still her hand, holding it, his hand like a warm pocket. “So far we’ve tried every known treatment, without success. It’s been burdensome and difficult for you. The operation is your decision because the success depends on you. I keep repeating myself, but this is very important.”
He crossed one leg over the other. “Think about it. There’s no hurry. You’re still my brave little patient even if you decide against this operation. If you want to have it later it won’t be too late.” He stood. “With time, the procedure is bound to improve. If so, your chances of success will grow. It’s not a promise, but a possibility.” In a low voice he added, “And don’t let anybody talk you into it.” He smiled at her and glanced at Mira. “Okay, Leini?”
“Okay, Doctor.”
They shook hands.
In the elevator going down, while they waited for the cab, Leini was lost in thought. Not now, I won’t go through with it. Doctor Kallio didn’t sound as if he was quite sure this is the right thing for me. He said I can wait, there’s no hurry.
She took a deep breath, cheeks ballooning as she blew out the air slowly through pursed lips. Maybe I’ll have this kind of surgery one day. One day—not now.
As soon as they were seated in the car, Mira attacked. “I think you should have the operation.”
Leini kept staring straight ahead. “No!”
“Listen, young girl—”
“No! I don’t want to talk about it.” Prepared to do battle, she fisted hands in her coat pockets. She closed her eyes in relief when Mira didn’t insist. For once she keeps quiet.
Chapter 12
Helsinki, Fall 1947
Leini held her plate while Mira heaped food on it.
“Enough, Mira. I can’t eat all that.”
She wanted to pull away her plate, but didn’t dare. Mira held her wrist. From experience she knew Mira’s fury would erupt if she allowed food to spill on the white linen tablecloth. Mira was crazy about heaping food on everybody’s plate. To Leini, mealtimes were a battle to keep her portions reasonable, a constant fight to curb Mira’s persistence to dish out more than she could possibly eat.
Leini hated meals at the family table. Battling with Mira about her portions was only part of her disgust. It also made her sick to see Mira play with the food on her own plate, only going through the motions of eating. As a rule, Mira took only a tiny bit of food, not really worth getting the plate dirty, Leini thought. Mira pared off the minutest trace of fat if they were having meat or chicken. She would shuffle the food around, bring a forkful to her mouth to nibble at it with stiff lips. Very little found its way into her mouth.
Mira released her clawlike grip on Leini’s wrist. For once, she didn’t ladle more. Leini was quick to pull away her plate. The crispy fried chicken, fluffy rice and beans were Leini’s favorite food, but she refused to eat the raw grated carrots with lemon juice and sugar. During the war she ate enough carrots to last her a lifetime.
Mira constantly watched her weight. She couldn’t eat this, and she couldn’t eat that. Rice gave her gas, and chicken was too fattening, salad too indigestible. Once Papi commented that she was so thin she rattled when she moved. Leini thought Mira was afraid to eat. She wondered why, but didn’t dare ask, lest Mira had one of her bursts of anger, which never failed to terrify Leini. She now watched Mira make a pile of the small helping of carrots on her plate. With her fork she spread the little heap and shuffled it around.
Turning in Leini’s direction, Mira fixed her eyes on a spot on the wall above her head. “Aren’t you going to tell Papi what the eye doctor said today?”
Papi looked at Leini. She put the fork and knife on her plate and took a sip of water as she gazed at Papi over the rim of the glass, eyes imploring him not to insist. He often seemed to guess her thoughts and feelings.
He nodded at Mira. “I know what the doctor said because you already told me.” He gave Leini’s hand a little pat. “Leini will talk about it when she’s ready.”
Since the doctor’s appointment this morning, she struggled against fear and weariness . Papi’s kindness lightened her mood.
Mira’s eyes spat venom as they fell on Leini, holding her transfixed in her chair. “You ungrateful girl. Here I take time off from work to go with you to the doctor, and you refuse to talk about the visit. You co
uld at least tell Papi the doctor wants to operate.”
With a sharp clang, Papi slapped fork and knife on his plate. His usually gentle gray-green eyes turned dark, his face red from anger as he stared at her. “Leave Leini be. I know from before, these visits are wearing on her. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.” Papi sank his fork in a piece of chicken breast. “Now let’s eat. Karl is coming for coffee after dinner. I don’t want him to walk in on an argument again. He’s witnessed enough of those.” He squared his large shoulders and glanced at Samy. “Don’t eat with your hands, young man.” Papi pried a piece of chicken from Samy’s greasy fist and replaced it with a spoon.
Papi folded his napkin, placed it next to his plate and stood. “Nice meal, Mira.” The words were kind, but Leini missed the usual warmth in his voice.
Mira gazed at him, the corners of her mouth drooping. “There’s dessert, Robert.”
“Thank you, I don’t want any.” He shook his head. Leini had to tilt her head to see him tower over her as he put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be in the living room if you want to talk.”
After she helped Tatta clear the table and do the dishes, Leini was on her way to join Papi when Mira pushed past her. Leini caught the whiff of a sickening smell. This sour stench often wafted from Mira after a meal. She threw a furtive look at her; Mira’s face was a waxy yellow, forehead gleaming from small beads of perspiration. Or is it water because she’s washed her face, but didn’t dry it? Leini speculated and wondered.
The Wooden Chair Page 9