The Wooden Chair (27 page)

“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. “Okay. 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.

“I’ll have a mixed salad, no carrots. A glass of red wine, please,” Leini said to the waiter.

Vickie raised her eyes from the menu to stare at her. “Is that all? Won’t you have some pasta? Or a small steak?”

“You know I don’t eat meat. A salad’s fine. I’m not hungry.”

“I hope you realize you’re only punishing yourself by not eating. You’ve lost weight, your clothes are literally hanging on your body, and you haven’t washed your hair in days. And you smoke too much.”

“You’re right, and I know it.”

Vickie glared at her. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go easy on that wine.” She covered her hand with her own. “I don’t mean to lecture. I love you; it breaks my heart to see you like this, like a displaced person.”

“That’s me, a displaced person.”

Vickie moved her right arm over imaginary chords in her raised left arm, playing an imaginary violin. “Get off that pity pot. Now let’s relax and enjoy our meal.”

When their plates were cleared away and coffee served, Vickie glanced at her watch. “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.”

Leini stirred her coffee. No denying it, the meal did her good. She really let herself go. Vickie was right, she was only harming herself. Time to pull herself together, to get a grip…all those hearty things people in a crisis were told to do. Was this a crisis? she wondered.
Absolutely, I’m sick to my soul.
She would make an effort; tonight she would wash her hair, do her nails that were in a pitiful state of neglect. The wine would have to go. Absolutely! And she would start eating regular meals again.

A shadow fell across the table. Thinking Vickie returned, Leini took a cigarette from the packet on the table and reached for the lighter. A flaming match appeared in her field of vision.

“Here, let me.”

Recognizing the voice, she dropped the unlit cigarette and snatched her handbag off the chair. With a firm grip on her shoulders, Bill forced her to remain in the seat.

“I won’t let you run away from me this time,” he said, holding her by the wrist. “You need to hear what I have to say. Afterwards I’ll let you go if you want. Shall we talk here or would you come to my place where it’s more quiet and private?”

The noise was loud from the dinner crowd, the tables so close each conversation could be easily overheard.

Leini stared at him. The heat in the restaurant combined with the surprise of Bill’s sudden appearance at her table made her feel light-headed.
I’m sure this is Vickie’s doing. Where is she anyway?
Her eyes searched the room.

He shook his head. “Vickie won’t be back right now. She agrees with me. You should hear what I have to say.”

Leini had sworn she wouldn’t see Bill again. Now he was so close she could reach to touch his cheek, but she struggled with a whole range of conflicting emotion—joy, anger, excitement, but also fear of him, of being hurt, of rejection and her own low level of endurance with adversity.

“You haven’t answered my question, do you prefer to talk here or will you go with me? What’s it going to be?”

It was then she noticed the stubble on his chin, as if he hadn’t shaved. His eyes appeared as pools of ink, the lids heavy and smudgy.
He hasn’t slept for a while.

She rose. “Let’s go.”

He helped her into the coat and draped the long scarf around her neck. Holding her by the arm, he led her through the door into the street and his car. He opened the door for her, closing it softly once she was seated. During the fifteen-minute drive to his apartment, he never let go of her hand, other than to shift gears.

In the elevator, she pressed her back against the wall to get as far from him as she could. In his flat, she sat stiff in an easy chair at a safe distance from him. She was on guard, ready to scamper if she felt threatened.

“Would you like something to drink? Some water? A glass of white wine?”

“White wine, please.” Her voice sounded hoarse in her ears, as if she hadn’t used it for several days.

She sipped the cool wine, soothing in her mouth that burned from too many cigarettes. He said he had things to tell her, so she waited as she wondered what he could possibly say to make any difference to her feelings about him.

Chapter 28

Geneva and Helsinki December 1957

After he pulled a round hassock next to Leini’s chair, Bill lowered his tall frame to sit as close as he dared so as not to frighten her. He hoped she wouldn’t withdraw even more into her shell. He gazed at her face, closed and devoid of the enticing smile that had attracted him to her in the first place. Her eyes were like dark coals, shiny as from a fever. She stared at a point above his head.

He took a sip of wine and placed the glass on the floor. More than anything, he wanted to go to her, to hold her in his arms. He was prepared to do anything to make the agony on her face disappear. Since they met, he’d seen the occasional expression of pain, like a cloud across the sun, and wondered what someone as young as Leini had to endure to know such hurt.