The Wooden Chair (39 page)

“So-so. I found it interesting.”

“Interesting? Nothing more? Only interesting?”

“I agree with that part where it talks about taking personal inventory. I think you need to take your inventory, and do it exactly as it says in the book.”

How did this come to be about me?
“I’m doing something of the kind, yes.” Meaning her therapy with Dr. Morgenthaler.

On the line, Mira’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Why did you read it? Are you one of them?” She spat
them
, her tone of voice making the idea a prison sentence for life.

“If by ‘one of them’ you’re asking if I’m an alcoholic, the answer is no. Part of my job is to read literature on alcoholism.” Leini closed her eyes, trying to get the right angle to her next question. “There are lots of A.A. meetings in Helsinki. Care to attend one with me?” And then she bit her lip not to say anything more.

“Why would I go to one of their meetings? I’m not an alcoholic.”

“I didn’t say you are…”

“But you’re implying it, girl.”

“…I only thought you’d like to know how it works.”
Don’t push it; she already said no.

“I know how it works. I read the book, didn’t I?” Mira’s voice was terse, the words clipped.

“And I’m glad you did.” Sensing Mira’s aggressiveness, she wanted to end the conversation before they were at each other’s throats. “I need to go, Mira. We’re having breakfast.”

As she took her seat by the table, Bill caught her eye and mouthed “Mira?” She nodded, shrugged and shook her head.

“About
The Big Book
,” he said in the evening as they settled to watch TV. “You did the best you could; you gave her the book to read. Maybe something will stay with her, take root….”

“Who knows?”

But I do, because I know Mira. Even if she could relate to what she read, she’s too proud and stubborn to admit she has a problem with alcohol.
And caught her breath.
I feel for her. I really do.
She sniffled.
What an unhappy woman she is. Mira can’t help being mean and cantankerous.
A measure of peace settled over her as she realized she no longer harbored any hostility toward Mira, only empathy.
Although my eye will always remind me of the price I paid for her manipulative ways, I wish I knew of a way of making things better for her.

* * *

On their return flight to Geneva, Leini rested her head on Bill’s shoulder, twining her fingers in his.

He glanced at her from the side. “Are you glad we came?”

She thought before answering, sorting out mixed feelings. “I guess so. I’m relieved the conflict with Mira is behind us.”
For the moment.

Leini turned to stare through the porthole at a cerulean sky. She was pleased she’d given Mira the book. Should she decide she wanted help to stop drinking she now knew where to turn.

Eyes half closed, Leini creased her brow. Deep in her mind something kept niggling, like a name on the tip of her tongue or the fragment of a song not quite remembered.
If I relax about it, I’ll get a grip on what eludes me.

Chapter 40

Geneva, Summer 1963

During their last appointment, Dr. Morgenthaler had suggested she stay in touch. “Call me, if you like. Things may surface from the recesses of your mind.” He scribbled something in his notebook. “The memories can be elusive at first. When—and if—they surface they could be disturbing. Don’t hesitate to come see me for some fine-tuning, as I call it.”

The day after their return from Helsinki, Leini made an appointment with Dr. Morgenthaler. The visit had raised questions Leini needed to talk about, hoping he’d help her find answers. During the return flight to Geneva something teasing niggled at her, a half forgotten memory, an unformulated thought. Just when she thought she had it in her grip, it slipped away. Frustration was like an angry cat inside. She’d wanted to pound her fists on the tray before her, stamp her feet.

Leini now checked and double-checked that Marita, the babysitter, had the phone number to Bill’s office in case anything happened to the children, heaven forbid. Then she repeated the same instructions for the umpteenth time. With a heartfelt sigh, she left the house and sat behind the wheel in the car, staring at their house.

This is a first; I’ve never been away from the children for a whole day before. I need to get used to it. We all do. Come fall, I’ll return to work.

When Yigal was born, the
three months’ maternity leave to which she was entitled seemed like a long time, but the days flew by much too quickly. She loved to be free of a work-imposed schedule, to be with the children, loving the time she spent in her home
.
As she drove off, the road was hazy from a mist of tears.

In the doctor’s waiting room, Leini sat with eyes closed, concentrating on even breathing, looking for that inner core of calmness.

“Mrs. Gardet, please come in.”

Dr. Morgenthaler towered over her. As his generous hand held hers, she was glad to be back with him. His grip was more like a warm safe nest than a mere handshake as his fingers wrapped around hers.

“You look well.” Letting go of her hand, he leafed through his little notebook. “Ah, here we are. You phoned me a few weeks ago that you were going to Finland, maybe to resolve matters with Mira.” He gazed at her over the rim of his glasses. “I suppose you’re here to tell me how things turned out?”

Before she answered, Leini wiggled to get comfortable in the wide lap of the chair. “You’re right. Altogether, the visit did me good. I returned to Finland after a lengthy absence, this time a mother myself. We spent a couple of days at my parents’ country place. I had some time to myself. As I sat by the lake, listening to the silence around me—and in me—I realized I’ve come a long way on the road of healing from my childhood, thanks to you.” Before he could interrupt her, she went on. “Something wonderful happened: I discovered my roots to Finland, very strong and deep.” She breathed in and out a few times to still the mounting excitement. “Connecting with my roots on such a profound level, feeling one with the land, I discovered I know who I am as a person.” Her smile was tremulous, eyes misty. “Now that I know where my roots are, I’ll always know who I am.”

The doctor leaned forward, elbows on knees, a position she remembered well from before. “Great progress, Mrs. Gardet. How do you feel about this insight?”

“Knowing who I am makes me strong, stronger than I dared expect. It’s wonderful to feel like this about myself.”

He nodded. “How did the reconciliation with Mira go?”

She shrugged. “I think we have a truce, but there’s no real bonding.” Her hand flew to her hair to twine a lock. “We both made an effort. I wasn’t ready to say I forgive her. And I couldn’t say I love her. She was kind to me while we were there, but I don’t believe there’s any real progress.” She thought for a moment. “I still carry some resentment against her.

“Mira drinks alcoholically. Her eating habits are unhealthy, to say the least. I gave her the Alcoholics Anonymous
Big Book
to read.” She crossed arms over breast. “I hoped the book would make her realize she has a problem with alcohol, but her denial is so strong she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—see that any part of the text concerned her.” She laughed low. “Mira told me I need to take a thorough inventory of myself.”

A wistful smile sat on his lips. “It was worth a try. And maybe a little seed will start sprouting, and she’ll realize she has a problem. From identifying a problem to asking for help is a short step.”

Bill said the same thing.
“Do you think we can bond as mother and daughter, or at least as adult women even if Mira doesn’t get therapy?”
I hope he can answer this.

He shook his head. “Wrong question, Mrs. Gardet.”

She blinked, not quite sure she’d heard right. “What? Why is it the wrong question?”

He rose to stand by the window, back against her. “Think about it for a minute.”

Leini filled a glass with water from the pitcher on the table. Taking small sips, she cast about in her mind—then it came to her. She cleared her throat to get his attention.

Pivoting on his heel, he fixed an intense gaze on her. “Do you get it now?”

She nodded, irritated and impatient with herself, with him, with the slow process of maturing, her movements jerky as she shifted in her chair. “Gee, you’re tough, Doctor. Never any freebies with you.”

“Right. Now tell me why this is the wrong question.”

“Whether Mira has therapy or not,
I
must forgive her.
I
must learn to love her. This is all about me. About coming to terms with my past, with her. I must do it, not Mira. Is that it, Doctor?”

“Yes.” And he said no more.

He won’t even give me a pat on the back for good thinking.

“Well, will I ever find it in me to forgive her?”

“My dear Mrs. Gardet, it’s entirely in your own hands. It all depends how much you desire to forgive Mira.”

Leini nodded. And kept nodding in silent agreement. “I’ll work at it. I want it to happen, but I’m not going to force it.”

“While Mira is alive, you can express forgiveness directly to her. Once she’s gone, it will be more difficult. Keep this in mind.”

Eyes closed, Leini leaned head against the back of the chair.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Yes, Doctor, there is.”

A few days ago, the niggling thought that kept eluding her during the flight to Geneva became an insight, a heavy load on her soul.

“Soon after we returned to Geneva, I saw the people in my childhood and growing-up years in a different light. It’s about the people I have always loved, those I thought loved me.”

The dam broke. Before she was able to put into words what she’d discovered, tears streamed along her cheeks. She hid her face in shaky hands, bent low to lean forehead on knees, as if to cushion the pain. Crying with deep hulking sobs, the agony was both emotional and physical. She cried in a way she’d never cried before, moans and sobs audible, whimpering without restraint.

Spent, she pulled a handful of tissue from the box on the table, dabbed at her eyes, dried wet face. When she spoke again her voice was raspy, as from a sore throat. “Oh, gawd, doctor, I thought I was through with all this, that I’ve exhausted all the pain and hurt. Now I’m discovering that those I thought loved me, whom I loved and trusted, all betrayed me. All of them. Grandpa, Grandma Britta, Karl. They all looked the other way while Mira abused me. Time and again they reassured me of their love—they said they would always be there for me, but where it really counted, they let me down, every one of them.

“Nobody, not one of them, stood up to Mira in an effective way. They didn’t really try to stop her from mishandling me. They knew what she did, how cruel she was to me, but they let her have her way.” Breathless, she gulped air, reaching for the glass of water, swallowing a couple of mouthfuls.

“It was Mira’s fault that I lost sight in one eye. And all these people were more or less guilty. For a long time I thought their silent partnership with Mira was limited only to the operation. Maybe they tried to protect me, but I they betrayed me. And she came so close to destroying me.” Her voice faltered, sadness like a heavy blanket on her soul. “It’s not as if they didn’t know how terrible she was. They knew, and they didn’t do enough.”

“Why do you think that is? Why didn’t your grandparents or Karl set limits?”

Leini waved her hand in dismissal. She trembled from disappointment and sadness so intense they bubbled like a boiling kettle of porridge, steamy, hot and about to brim over.

“I don’t care about their reasons!” Her voice was loud and shrill to her ears as she remembered Mira on the warpath. Breathing in and out a few times, she made an effort to speak in a more reasonable tone. “Maybe they did the best they could, but I feel betrayed.” Her throat hurt, eyes burned.

“Feelings aren’t facts, Mrs. Gardet. Maybe you’re overreacting.”

She shrugged.
Maybe.

“Did you never question their attitude before? When you still lived at home?”

“
Hmm
.” Thinking back, she remembered occasions when she would be at odds with the whole world, hating everybody. “Yes, I did. Then I’d think of a reason why it was all right for them to leave Mira to have her way.”

“Is there more, Leini?”

Her eyes met his. “I don’t think so. Isn’t this enough?”

“It’s enough, and it’s a lot. I expected this to happen. Our work has opened doors to your past. You’ve dealt with a lot of issues; you’re a very courageous woman.”

“Maybe so. Right now, I hurt and I’m scared.”

“Don’t let this frighten you. The pain can’t harm you as long as you deal with the cause, which you’re doing. Remember you’re strong, very strong; you just said so yourself.

“Understanding the role these people played in your life is part of healing from your traumas. Concentrate on two things; they all loved you, every one of them. Their love has sustained you until now. I’m confident it will continue to sustain you. To recognize what they failed to do doesn’t detract from their love.

“You come to understand things from your past when you’re ready to face them, not before. You can now see that the people you loved were not faultless; this insight surfaces at a moment when you’re strong enough to handle it.” He held out his hand and gave her the little card with her next appointment. “I’ll see you end of this week.”

After she left Dr. Morgenthaler’s office, Leini was too upset to risk driving home right away. In a nearby café, she ordered a cup of hot tea she didn’t want. Her head pounded, eyes raspy as if she’d blinked them in sand.
I need to talk to somebody who was there throughout my childhood and teenage years. Papi lives in perpetual denial about Mira. Grandpa and Grandma Britta are gone, but there’s Karl!

Karl had been a regular visitor in their home when she was growing up. He knew Mira from when she was young. Leini was certain Karl would agree to help answer her burning need to know and understand, to answer one question—why did nobody interfere with Mira?