The Wooden Chair

by Rayne E. Golay

  “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-full, 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.”

  “Wise words, Vickie.” Words I’d better heed.

  Chapter 27

  Geneva, December 1957

  The music on the hi-fi had stopped some time ago. The single lamp shed a pool of light, leaving the couch in semi-darkness. Eyes closed, Leini reclined against its armrest, struggling for breath. Her hair was a likely mess. The buttons on her blouse were undone, skirt bunched around her waist. With arms around Bill, she held him to her, responding to his kisses. Her skin burned and she pressed closer, body straining for his caresses, for more of him. On top of her, Bill’s face gleamed with perspiration, eyes closed. Clutching him to her, she adjusted her body to his, heart drumming fast from excitement and a touch of fear. Everything about this situation was new to her. Bill was experienced; he knew how to bring her to heights of passion she never guessed existed. During the close to three months since they made up after he failed to phone as promised, they’d been together practically every day.

  Bill gathered her blouse to cover her naked breasts. He tugged the skirt over her knees and sat next to her.

  Coming out of a trance-like state of arousal, Leini opened her eyes to gaze at him. Confused, she squeezed his arm. “What’s wrong, Bill? Why do you stop?”

  He raked his disheveled hair and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “We have to put on the brakes before we go too far.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips.

  “But why? Don’t you want me?”

  “Oh gawd, yes! Of course I want you. But you’re so young; I feel we should wait.”

  She tried to laugh, a sad little sound that turned into a croak. “So I’m flawed because I’m young?” Not wanting him to see how embarrassed and disappointed she was, she averted her eyes, blinking against the tears ready to flow. Rearranging her clothes, she sat, staring at her feet.

  During one of their previous evenings together, under much similar circumstances, she asked Bill to be gentle with her. “I…I’ve never, I’m…”

  Brow creased, he stared at her. He eyes grew round as understanding dawned.

  “Of course,” he said. “How stupid of me. Of course you haven’t.”

  Then, like now, he insisted they wait.

  Bill cupped her face in his hands, his gray eyes almost black as they gazed into hers. “Leini, please listen to me. I know you’re disappointed, and you have a right to be. This is my fault. I shouldn’t let things go so far.”

  With an abrupt movement, Leini pushed away his hands. Standing, she fastened a few buttons on the blouse and tucked it inside the skirt.

  “Leini! Please let’s talk about this. Don’t be angry.”

  She found her pumps under the couch, stepped into them and grabbed her handbag.

  “Wait. At least give us a chance to sort this out. I wanted to ask you…”

  “I thought we already sorted this out when you started seeing me again, but I get the message. I’m too young for you, too inexperienced. Go find somebody your own age to play with.” To save what dignity she could, in a hurry to leave before she burst into tears, she ran out of the apartment, out of his life.

  Blinded by tears, afraid Bill would follow, she rushed down the stairs, all eleven floors, rather than wait for the elevator. Outside, she stumbled, snagging her stocking and scraping a knee. She dug in her handbag for the car keys. On the drive home, she couldn’t stop crying. Wave after wave of rejection and humiliation washed over her. The familiar well of loneliness was there, gaping to swallow her.

  Leini fumbled to fit the key in the lock to the flat. The door opened, and there was Vickie, a coy little smile playing on her lips. “What on earth? Can’t you find the keyhole?” She giggled. “Or are you drunk?”

  Without an answer, Leini pushed past her, dropping her bag and coat by the front door. She threw herself on the bed as heavy soul-searing sobs shook her.

  Rejected. Abandoned. Unwanted.

  Vickie sat by her side, stroking her hair, murmuring gentle words of comfort. She brought her a glass of water. She handed her a box of tissue. Leini sipped the water. She blew her nose. When the storm subsided, she turned on her side. Using a wad of tissue, she dried her face.

  “Tell me what happened,” Vickie said.

  “I’ll have a glass of wine first, then I’ll tell you.”

  Worming past Vickie to the foot of the bed, she rushed into the kitchen, afraid Vickie would try to stop her. In the cabinet, she found a bottle of the same cheap wine she drank before. As she brought the half-full glass to her lips, she shuddered at the smell. With eyes closed, she downed the wine in a few big gulps. Seated on the side of her bed, she filled the glass again before placing the bottle within easy reach on the floor. Sipping from the glass, she sat next to Vickie on the side of the bed. As she brought the glass to her lips again, Vickie’s hand shot out to arrest hers.

  “What do you think you’re solving by guzzling all that god-awful wine?”

  “I don’t mean to solve anything, just having a glass of wine.”

  Vickie held the bottle to the light. “You’ve already had more than ‘a glass.’” She plucked the glass from Leini’s ice-cold fingers and set it on the table. “Something happened between you and Bill. Tell me about it, then we’ll talk.”

  Leini shook her head. “There’s nothing to tell. I made a mistake. He doesn’t care about me. We’re through.”

  “I don’t believe it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, he’s in love with you. I’m sure of it.”

  “Then he has a strange way of showing it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  In the morning Leini refused to get up. Alone and dejected, she had some more wine to help her sleep. The ringing of the phone woke her a few times, but she wouldn’t answer. If the caller was Bill, he had nothing to say she wanted to hear. She stayed in bed all day, sleeping on and off, sipping wine, not eating anything, smoking one cigarette after the other. Vickie came home late in the afternoon to find Leini staring unblinking at the wall.

  * * *

  Vicki glanced at the bottles by Leini’s bed. Heaven help her. She’s emptied close to two whole bottles of that awful wine.

  She stared at Leini’s white-white face, eyes unfocused and bloodshot, deep furrows on each side of her mouth. With Leini’s hand in her own, Vickie sat on the side of the bed. Her first reaction was to berate Leini about the dangers of trying to drown her sorrows, but decided against it. Right now Leini needed a friend more than she needed a lecture.

  “Bill was at the university today. He asked about you. Leini, he looked terrible…like he hadn’t slept or shaved or washed.” Vickie stopped, waiting for a reaction from her.

  Leini stared at the wall.

  Squeezing her hand, Vickie continued. “He told me what happened last night. He said…”

  Leini whipped her head around to glare at Vickie. “I told you…I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. It’s over.” She turned away.

  “You’re being unreasonable. Let me tell you what he said.”

  “No! I don’t want to know.”

  Vickie sighed. “O
kay. Let’s leave it for now. When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here.” With a tissue, she dabbed at Leini’s tears, smoothed her hair, a cold fist squeezing her heart at Leini’s pale face, eyes pools of bottomless sadness. She’s full of self-pity, but she’s also hurting like hell.

  * * *

  During a sleepless night a week later, reasoning returned. It’s not worth killing myself over Bill.

  Leini forced herself to eat some cereal, although her head pounded and she wanted to gag. Her hands shook as she gathered her books and tottered on shaky legs to the university. A steady drizzle soaked her to the skin. She shivered in her damp clothes while she forced herself to sit through the day’s lectures.

  In the evening, Vickie coaxed and scolded. “You’re being unreasonable.”

  “Okay, so I’m unreasonable. The way I see it, Bill hurt me. I won’t let that happen again.”

  “Won’t you at least agree to listen to what he has to say?”

  Leini shook her head.

  When she kept quiet, Vickie reached for the newspaper on the table, rustling it more than necessary as she turned the pages. She glanced at her watch and cleared her throat before speaking. “Let’s have a bite to eat at the pizzeria. What do you say?”

  A weak smile and the shake of her head. “You go. I’m not hungry.”

  Vickie folded the paper and placed it on a pile under the table. “We both have to eat. I bet you didn’t have lunch, huh?”

  “I had something at the university.”

  “I’m hungry, and you’re coming with me to the pizzeria. ‘No’ is not an answer, so go comb your hair, paint your lips, put on a pair of shoes, and let’s go.”

  Too weary to argue against what she heard as a command, Leini nodded. She put on a dash of lipstick, shrugged into her warmest coat and wound a long scarf around her neck, burrowing her face up to her nose in its folds. In the street, Vickie slipped her arm in Leini’s as they marched the short block to the pizzeria.

  By a window table, Leini studied the menu, already regretting she agreed to accompany Vickie. The smell of food made her feel queasy and she had no appetite, no desire to eat.