The Wooden Chair (8 page)

In the evening, Leini lay in bed munching on an apple. She was thirsty. The usual water glass wasn’t on the bedside table. She wondered if she dared ask for a drink now that Mamma was already upstairs, getting ready for bed.

“Mamma,” she said in her softest voice. “I’d like a glass of water, please. I’m thirsty.”

Mamma shook her head. “You can’t drink after you’ve just had an apple.”

“Why not?”

“Stop asking questions. Because you ate the core, the water will make the seeds swell in your stomach. Then you’ll have a tummy as huge as mine.” She patted her round belly beneath an ankle-length nightgown. Placing Maia on the pillow next to Leini’s head, Mamma pulled the covers over her shoulders.

“We’re leaving tomorrow for Helsinki. It’s going to be a long trip, so go to sleep.”

Leini kept turning, too worried to settle. The tight covers came undone and twined around her legs. She was afraid that the apple seeds growing in Mamma’s belly would get very big. She couldn’t imagine what would happen to Mamma then.
Is she going to blow up?
Leini couldn’t sleep, she was so afraid for Mamma. She kept twisting and turning, the sheets getting all tangled.

Then a thought startled her to stillness.
Mamma will get on the train and not take me with her. She will lose me as before.
Tears she couldn’t stop soaked into the pillow.

Leini pressed her hands together in prayer, but could only whisper, “Please God…” not knowing what she wanted to say. Then she remembered she wasn’t alone with Mamma.
Grandpa and Grandma Britta are here! They won’t forget me, they won’t let Mamma leave me. That’s for sure.
She breathed easier, the thought calming her. “Thank you, God, for Grandpa and Grandma Britta.” Her mind turned to all the things she wanted to take with her to Helsinki, the things she was going to show Papi when he came home from the war, sometime soon now.

The next morning, Leini only had a few things to pack. Grandma Britta helped her fill a small carton with her one coloring book, the pencils along with some dried flowers she kept between sheets of newspaper, and a smooth, shiny stone in the shape of a heart she found by the pond. Also, all the paper dolls and their clothes Grandma Britta had helped her cut out and the box of chocolates Karl gave her, now empty, even the smell gone.

“I must take along all the photos Grandpa took of Whitey and me,” she said, undecided where to put them so they were safe. “And Papi’s drawing…the one Karl made.”

Grandma Britta found an old envelope which she stuck between the covers of
Scheherazade
.

“They’ll be all right there, don’t you think?”

“I think,” Leini answered.

With Grandma Britta’s help, she carried the carton downstairs to place it with all the others.

Grandpa hugged her to him. “After breakfast we’ll go to say good-bye to Whitey.”

Leini nodded. She was glad to return to Helsinki. Maybe Papi would come home soon. At the same time she was sad to leave Veteli. All her friends had already returned to their homes. She missed them, feeling alone now they were gone. She squeezed Grandpa’s hand as they followed the path dusted with snow from last night.

“Grandpa, can’t we take Whitey to Helsinki? Please, Grandpa.”

“My princess, I wish we could, but Whitey would be very unhappy in an apartment. He’d miss the grass and fresh air.”

Her eyes misted, throat too tight for talking. Sadness was like a dense fog inside. She inhaled a tremulous breath.

In the henhouse, she played with Whitey a long time, while Grandpa sat silent on a stool watching them. When it was time to go, she held Whitey against her cheek as if to imprint the feel of his soft fur on her mind. She kissed his little wet nose. Caressing the long ears, she whispered, “I love you, Whitey. I’ll always, always think of you.”

She placed Whitey in his cage, carefully securing the little door. Whitey sniffed the finger she poked through the netting. Soon, tempted by carrot stalks on the other side of the pen, he turned away from her to start munching.

Grandpa took her in his arms, holding her close. With her head buried against his shoulder, she let the tears flow. Grandpa stroked a gentle caress over her hair, again and again.

“I know it’s hard, Leini. It hurts to say good-bye. Try to think of all the good times you had with Whitey—they are good memories.”

Nodding, she raised her wet face to his. With a weak smile, she handed him the smeared glasses.

“Please make them clean, Grandpa.”

* * *

The train ride to Helsinki was long, with many stops. Upon entering the apartment building where they lived, Mamma scrutinized the empty foyer.

“
Hmm
,” she said. “Harry must still be in the army or he’d be here.”

This was a new name to Leini. “Harry? Who’s Harry?”

“You were too small when he was called up, you can’t remember him. Harry Nordman, he’s our doorman.” The corners of Mamma’s mouth pulled down in displeasure. “It’s a nuisance he’s still away. I’d counted on him to be here to give me a hand with getting the apartment fixed the way it was before the war.” Mamma sighed.

The annoyance in Mamma’s voice stopped Leini from asking what a doorman was. It was better to wait until Harry returned so she could see for herself.

Leini remembered the elevator was out of order before they left for Veteli, but it was now functioning. While the cage climbed to the fifth floor, Leini huddled in a corner, frightened by the purr of the elevator as it rose, feeling dizzy from the lift shaft as it rushed by faster than her eyes could follow.

In the apartment, Leini trailed Mamma from room to room. She’d forgotten what her home was like. Throughout the day something bad churned inside, as if she wanted to throw up but not quite. Nothing was like it was in Veteli. She wrinkled her nose at the strange smells, not as nice as the house in Veteli, filled with the aroma of brewing coffee and fresh bread.

Under her bed she discovered her dolls and toys. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she pulled them out, one after the other.

Whispering, she hugged the bear to her breast. “Hey, Björn. I’ve been away for a long time, but now I’m home.” She patted his head. “I’m going to stay here now, not leave you alone again. Soon my papi will be home. Mamma’s going to get me a sister or brother, and we’ll be all together. Isn’t that nice?” She continued talking to her toys until Mamma’s shrill voice interrupted her.

“Wash your hands, girl. Dinner’s ready.”

In Veteli, the big kitchen had been warm from wood crackling in the stove. There had been music from the radio, talk and laughter in the air. Here the kitchen was cold. Mamma kept stirring her carrot stew, not really eating at all. She didn’t say anything, and Leini was afraid to talk. She was sad without Grandma Britta and Grandpa. And Kalevi. He used to be so quiet she sometimes forgot about him, but during the meals, he was always there, head bent over his food.

In bed, Leini prayed time would go faster so she’d have her baby brother or sister to play with.

* * *

In the bedroom, Leini watched Mamma pack two small suitcases, one for Leini to take to Grandpa and Grandma Britta’s, the other one for Mamma.

“I’m going away for a few days to get your little sister or brother. While I’m gone you’re going to stay with Grandpa and Grandma.”

Like a rippling brook, joy leaped in Leini’s chest that she’d be staying with them. Her gladness dimmed a little as a thought crept into her mind;
would Mamma forget her while she was gone?

“Will you go away for a long time, Mamma?”

“As long as it takes.” She handed her Björn and Maia. “You can take both of them if you want.”

Leini hugged the toys, burying her face in Björn’s soft fur so Mamma wouldn’t see her tears.

She loved staying with Grandma Britta and Grandpa. She slept in the big room next to their bedroom. The first night she dreamt she was in a vast open place, like the market in Helsinki. There were no people wherever she looked. She knew Mamma was somewhere close by, but turning this way and that she couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Mamma! Mamma, where are you? Come back. Please don’t leave me.” She awoke, hair plastered to forehead, sheets twisted around her body. With the corner of the sheet she wiped her tear-stained face as she struggled to sit up, heart pounding so hard her body trembled.

“There, there, my little dove,” Grandma Britta whispered as she held her close. She carried Leini to her own bed and settled next to her. Inhaling Grandma Britta’s faint flowery perfume, Leini snuggled close, safe in her arms, the bad dream slowly vanishing.

* * *

The radio played music all day long. When Grandma Britta didn’t read to Leini, she played the piano, teaching Leini where the note “do” was on the white keys. One morning Grandma came to sit next to Leini on the piano stool as Leini picked out notes with one finger.

“Mamma is in the hospital. She’s had your little brother.”

Leini stared at Grandma Britta. “A brother?” She’d waited so long for him—or her—now she could hardly believe she heard right. “Did the stork bring him?”

Grandma Britta’s gentle gray-blue eyes blinked rapidly as she smiled. “Yes, it did, my dove. You’ll stay with Grandpa and me for a while, until Mamma leaves the hospital and is strong enough to look after you and Samy.” Grandma Britta caressed Leini’s hair. “Your brother’s name is Samy.”

“Samy.” Tasting the name. “Nice name, Samy.”

Together with Grandma Britta, Leini visited Mamma and the newborn baby. When she first saw him through the window of the nursery, Leini gaped, amazed that he was so small, not much bigger than her doll. His head was covered with jet-black curly hair, and his mouth was like a rosebud. His tiny ears, flat against his skull, were pink, like the pictures of seashells Grandpa had shown her in a magazine.

She squeezed Grandma Britta’s hand. “His face is like Mamma’s.”

“You’re right; he looks very much like Mamma. Same big, coal-dark eyes, and almost blue-black hair.” With the back of her hand she caressed Leini’s cheek. “You take after Papi, tall, olive skin, while Mamma’s is like cream, and she’s short.”

Leini could hardly wait for Mamma to bring Samy home so she could play with him. She was so glad to have a baby brother she thought her heart was going to burst.

The first night Mamma was home with Samy, she bathed him in the small aluminum tub. Leini stood by her side watching his little body, legs kicking, arms flailing, mouth stretched into a wide grin. She stared in fascination at the thumb-like fleshy outgrowth between his legs. Her breath caught in her throat, scared that there was something wrong with him as she reached a prudent finger to touch it.

The back of her hand smarted from the fierce slap Mamma dealt her. “Don’t you dare touch him there.” She spat the words at Leini.

Tears streamed along her cheeks. “But…but what is that…thing? Is Samy sick?”

Mamma gave her a shove, causing Leini to stumble against the bathroom door. Catching the heel of her slipper on the threshold, she lost her balance and fell, hitting her head a blinding blow on the floor. With her foot, Mamma pushed her out of the way and closed the door, leaving her in the hall. Stunned, she lay still. Then she adjusted her glasses and crept silently into the bedroom. Hugging Maia to her, she sat huddled in a corner.
Why is Mamma angry? What have I done? What’s wrong with Samy?

Leini often stood over Samy’s crib, taking in dark eyes, long lashes and the little nub of a nose. At first, Mamma wouldn’t leave her alone with him, but when Leini only stared at him, never touching, she let up her guard. Mamma spent a lot of time with Samy, changing and bathing and feeding him, singing softly to him when he cried. As weeks passed Leini became less enchanted with her little brother. Before they had Samy, Mamma never spent a lot of time with her, but now it was as if Leini didn’t exist at all. Mamma crooned and talked to Samy. She held him all the time, smiled at him. She never did these things with Leini.

The first time Mamma allowed her to give Samy his formula bottle, Leini held her breath from fear she would do something wrong and damage the tiny bundle in her lap. She didn’t dare move although her arm was going to sleep. Mamma hovered over them, watching.

When Samy spit up on Leini, soiling the front of her dress, Mamma’s face turned red. “You’re so useless, a real no-good. Don’t you ever touch Samy again. I can’t trust you to do the smallest thing right.” Mamma snatched the squealing baby from Leini’s lap, crooning tender words in a sweet voice she only used when she talked to him.

Samy was a good baby. Fed and clean, he slept most of the time, but there were nights when his crying woke Leini. After a time, she thought he was more a nuisance than the source of happiness she’d expected. He was too small to play with and no fun at all. She overheard Mamma complain over the phone to one of her friends that Samy’s crying kept her up most nights. The phone conversation over, Leini took Mamma’s hand to press it to her cheek.

“Why don’t you take him back to the hospital and leave him there? You have me; I’ll always be your good girl.”

Mamma yanked her hand from Leini’s and pushed her away. “Shame on you, girl, for even thinking such a thing. You should be the one to go back to where you came from. Samy is an adorable little baby. He looks so much like me. I love him very much.” Mamma’s smile was happy.

Fighting tears, Leini stared at Mamma. “But you love me, too, Mamma?”

As she glanced at Leini, Mamma’s joyous smile disappeared. “You…you’re a copy of your father and your grandpa, nothing like me at all.” With a swift movement, she turned her back, leaving Leini alone in the middle of the floor twining a strand of hair around her fingers.

* * *

At the sharp ring on the doorbell, Leini, on her belly on the living room floor, glanced from her picture book as Mamma rushed to open. Curious to see who came calling, Leini followed her to the entry hall.

“Come in. Pleased to see you.” Mamma stepped aside to let the caller enter. Spotting Leini next to her, Mamma wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Say hello to Mrs. Miller.”