The Wooden Chair (16 page)

“May God bless you and keep you, my little girl.” He passed a caressing hand over her forehead.

In a faraway place, Leini shivered from the draft as the swinging doors closed. She was on her own to face the unknown, Papi’s words still echoing in her mind, “You are beautiful.”

The clink of metal against metal startled Leini. She lay in a narrow corridor without windows. The walls were so close she could almost touch them. She heard muted voices, barely perceptible music and the sound of running water. The smells were strange; they made her wrinkle her nose. The drab light green double doors swung open, and Doctor Kallio strode to her side. His pants and short-sleeved blouse were the same green as the door. He appeared so funny wearing a cap on his head and paper-like slippers on his feet. The doctor patted her hand.

“Are you a bit drowsy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Here, let me take your glasses. Let’s hope you’ll not need them again.” He placed them on a shelf on the wall. “The anesthetist will be with you soon. I’ll see you in your room later today. Don’t worry; everything will be all right.”

When she didn’t reply, he asked, “Okay, Leini?”

She nodded. “Yes, okay.” A faint whisper.

Doctor Kallio disappeared through the green doors, and almost immediately a tubby man, also dressed in green, maneuvered a narrow black cot next to her bed.

“Hello, Leini. I’m the anesthetist. In a few minutes I’ll put you to sleep.” He patted the cot. “Come, I’ll help you get on this table.”

Her mouth suddenly became so dry her tongue cleaved to the palate. She needed to pee. And she wished they would all go away, to leave her be.
If only I had a mother like Paula’s
.

With the man’s help Leini scooted across to the table, cold and hard through her gown. There was no pillow and no cover. Shivering, she stared at the ceiling, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. Without her glasses, the overhead lights were hazy halos.

He wheeled her through the double doors into a room with a big round low-hanging lamp. The shadowy face of a woman wearing a cap over her hair appeared above Leini.

“Close your eyes,” the woman said.

Leini obeyed, and some wet and cold liquid was swabbed over her forehead, the right eye and cheek. Something was slipped over her hair. Then her hands were strapped to the sides of the table. She tried to pull her arms free, but couldn’t. She felt utterly powerless. Trapped. The assault of strange and foreign impressions filled her with a numbing terror.
What are they doing to me?

“I’m going to put this mask over your nose and mouth,” the anesthetist said. “Be a good girl, take a deep breath and count slowly from ten to zero. I bet you won’t get further than seven before you’re asleep.”

Alarmed, she forced her eyes open just in time to see a black oval mask with tubes attached. It moved closer until the touch of a cold rubbery material covered her nose and mouth. A nauseating and suffocating stench filled her nostrils as the mask was pressed to her face. She fought for air, struggled to free her hands, turning her head from side to side in panic.
Help! Somebody please help me!

Then she sunk into fathomless blackness.

Chapter 16

Helsinki, November 1947

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

Papi and Grandpa, seated next to Leini’s bed, turned their heads. Dr. Kallio approached, white coat unbuttoned over gray slacks, a light blue shirt and a gray tie with red stripes.

“Ah, all three Bauman generations together.” His smile came and went. “Sorry I kept you waiting. Things are a bit hectic beginning of the week.” He glanced at Leini. “Surgery went well. Soon all this will be a mere memory.”

“Leini’s been sick,” Grandpa said, his voice tense. He stuck a finger inside his shirt collar, moving it back and forth.

“It’s to be expected after anesthesia.”

“Isn’t the retching and moving her head dangerous for the eye? I mean, the stitches could tear?”

“Of course it’s preferable if Leini is still, but some movement and vomiting can’t be avoided at first.” The doctor leaned over her, speaking softly, but Leini didn’t respond. He checked her pulse, peered at her face. “So far, so good. For now, she’ll sleep most of the time.”

At the door he turned. “This room is very small. I’d prefer Leini has one visitor at a time. Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

A few minutes after the doctor left, Grandma Britta returned with a stout, middle-aged woman in tow. “Robert, meet Irma, Leini’s night nurse.” Nodding her head in Grandpa’s direction, she added, “You already know my husband, Benjamin Bauman.”

Irma was taller than average, her walk marred by a limp, like a deep curtsy. She gave Grandpa a firm handshake. “Nice to see you again, sir.”

“Take good care of our girl,” he said, scanning the confined space. “The doctor said only one visitor at a time. Leini needs peace and quiet.” Leaning over her sleeping form in the bed, he gazed at her for a moment, then, with his overcoat draped over his arm, he walked to the door. “I’m leaving. You, too, Britta, come along.”

Grandma Britta touched her cheek to Papi’s. “Look after her, Robert.” She threw Leini a kiss and followed Grandpa.

* * *

Leini slept intermittently, partly from the anesthesia, partly from the tranquillizer the doctor prescribed. Every precaution had been taken to keep her calm and quiet during the crucial time until scar tissue formed. When awake, she was nauseous, but the vomiting grew less frequent.

From time to time Leini was aware of people: nurses, Papi, Mira. Her mother’s cloying perfume mingled with stale cigarette smoke made Leini nauseous again. A big woman with a warm voice who spoke Finnish with a sing-song dialect helped her when she was ill. Early on the third morning she awoke, less foggy. Out of habit, she reached for her glasses, then remembered she no longer needed them.

Fat sandbags against each side of Leini head kept her from turning. The squishy sound of footsteps on the linoleum approached the bed.

“Ah, little Leini’s awake. And how are you this morning?”

Above her was a broad face, steel-gray hair pulled into a bun.

“Thirsty.” Her throat burned, voice raspy in her ears. “Who are you?” She wondered if it was polite to ask.

“I’m Irma, your night nurse.” A generous smile crinkled the woman’s close-set, muddy brown eyes. “Here, let me free your hands.” She removed the stays from Leini’s wrists, gently massaging them to stimulate the blood flow.

“There. Isn’t it better?”

Leini rubbed hands together. “Much better, thanks.”

“Would you like me to get you some silver tea?”

Leini wasn’t sure. The thought of milk in warm water with honey made her stomach churn, but she no longer needed to throw up, so maybe it would be all right.

“Yes, but not too hot or sweet.”

When Irma returned with it, Leini drank half a mug of the warm liquid through a straw. After a sponge bath, Irma helped her into a clean nightgown. Exhausted, Leini soon fell asleep again.

A couple of days later, a harsh exchange of words woke her. She recognized Mira’s intense, slightly hoarse voice and Grandpa’s deep baritone. They were arguing. Although they tried to speak in low tones, she caught words and whole sentences.

Mira spoke fast. “These past nights, Leini’s slept peacefully. Irma said so, and the stitches are undisturbed. Instead of paying an expensive private nurse to babysit her, Leini can continue getting a mild tranquillizer so she won’t toss and turn.” The words tumbled in a torrent, urgent and forceful, as always when Mira was determined to get her way.

Although Grandpa’s voice was muted, Leini heard every word. “Money shouldn’t be a consideration for you, as I’m paying for Irma. Unless you have a hidden agenda?
Huh
? If so, I want to know what you’re plotting.” Grandpa sounded angry. His voice held none of the gentleness Leini was used to when he spoke to her.

“What hidden agenda? I swear I have no agenda, hidden or otherwise! Leini’s a big girl, she’ll be all right on her own. I don’t like to spoil her with special treatment, particularly as she won’t have private nursing at home.”

“Mira!” The word was like a pistol shot. “Leini is three days out of surgery. She has a history of nightmares and sleepwalking, and I’m yet to understand why a girl only nine years old should be so disturbed as to have sleep problems. After the next few nights, the scarring will have started so she can no longer harm her eye. She’ll be able to be on her own. For now, Irma stays, I say.”

“Too late, Grandpa. I already told her not to return tonight.”

In the ensuing silence, Leini could only guess at what went on. From her position on her back, unable to move her head, she imagined Grandpa and Mira glaring at each other.

“You’re overstepping boundaries, Mira. You had no business firing Irma. I hired her and I’m going to call her back.”

“If you do that, you’ll not open my doors again. I’ll personally make sure you won’t see Leini.”

A heavy silence ensued. Leini had no way of knowing what went on, but Mira’s last words frightened her.

Please, Grandpa, don’t ask Irma to come back. I couldn’t stand it if I didn’t get to see you.

Grandpa’s his voice was muffled. “I hate to admit it, but you win. I won’t let you keep Leini from me, but mark my saying this—if anything happens to her because she’s unattended at night, I’ll hold you personally responsible. You’ll have her misfortune on your conscience.”

Leini heard smacking sounds. She guessed Grandpa was hitting the fist of one hand into the palm of the other. She’d seen him do so on the few occasions he’d been upset in Leini’s presence.

“Grandpa, you forget she’s my daughter. I have something to say in matters concerning her.”

“You, Mira, seem to forget Leini’s
my
only granddaughter.
My
money pays for the private room and the nurse. You…you’re in no way a fit mother to this child. You do precious little to care for her.”

“How dare you, old man.” Like a wildcat, Mira spat the words.

Leini had enough. Covering ears with hands, she shouted, “Stop it! I don’t want to hear another word.”
They’re talking about me again as if I don’t exist.

Before Grandpa could react, Mira was by the bed, taking Leini’s hands. “Little girl, I’m sorry we disturbed you. We were just talking.”

“No, you were not. You’re angry at Grandpa, and now he’s all upset. Go away, Mira. Go be angry somewhere else.”

All she wanted was for Grandpa and Mira to stop arguing.

* * *

Leini spent the fourth night alone. The door to the corridor was left ajar. The nurse on call checked her often. She came by one last time minutes before the end of her duty. Leini lay turned on her right side when she should have been on her back. The nurse crept around the bed to get a glimpse at Leini’s face.

She froze.

Leini had burrowed the right side of her face in the sheet. The bridge holding the stitches was detached from her cheek. It rested at an angle on the sheet by her head.

The side of her face rested in a pool of blood.

As quickly as she could, the nurse put in a call for Doctor Kallio before she rushed Leini to the operating room. The doctor arrived only minutes later. The anesthesiologist put the mask on her face, and Doctor Kallio performed the operation again—only three days after the first one.

Leini returned to her room in the afternoon. The doctor met with her family in her small room. He took them in, one after the other. Papi leaned forearms on knees, face pale, deep worry lines between his brows. Grandma Britta kept dabbing a handkerchief to her eyes. Grandpa was deep red in the face, a white ring around his lips. Mira stared into space, refusing eye contact.

“The news isn’t good, I’m sorry to say,” the doctor said.

Papi kept squeezing his hands. “What went wrong?”

“It seems pretty obvious. Leini turned in her sleep and disturbed the bridge. She must have rubbed the side of her face against the sheet. Maybe the eye itched. Maybe she experienced some discomfort. The bridge moved, the stitches ruptured, tearing the fresh scar tissue. Without stitches, the muscles no longer could hold the eye straight—it turned into her head.” The doctor passed a hand over his face, his shoulders sagging.

“Will she be all right, doctor?” Grandma Britta asked, her voice thick.

Doctor Kallio cleared his throat. When he spoke his voice was low and hesitant. “I’m afraid not.” He paused. “The optic nerve is damaged.”

“What?” The question erupted from Grandpa. “How is it possible?”

“So early after surgery, the scarring had just started…” The doctor hunched his shoulders, palms turned up in a gesture of helplessness.

Explanation or not, the result was there.

Leini was blind in her right eye.

* * *

During the week in the hospital following the second operation, Leini refused to see anyone. Mira came, but a nurse prevented her from entering on Leini’s request as she blamed Mira for the accident. When Papi arrived, she seemed oblivious of his presence. Leini wouldn’t talk or look at him. She showed the same stoic silence for Grandpa and Grandma Britta.

During one of his frequent visits, Grandpa pulled up a chair and sat facing her. “You have my firm promise that I’ll read and investigate and do everything in my power to find a solution for your eye.” His voice was low and firm. “Money is no objection. Somewhere, there has to be an ophthalmologist or faith healer—somebody, anybody—who’ll have a solution for you. I’ll find this person. Together we’ll travel. The world over, if necessary. I’m going to find help. Trust me, Leini.”

Eyes closed, she nodded, more for his benefit than because she believed him.

Leini didn’t allow any of her friends to visit. Virpi told her Paula and Berit were at the clinic, wanting to spend a few minutes with her.

Leini shook her head. “I’m not up to it.”

Virpi plugged in the phone that had been disconnected while Leini recuperated. “A gentleman wants to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to anybody.” But when Virpi told her it was Karl on the line, she took the receiver. “Karl?”