Genealogy: a novel

by Mae Wood

  “That’s fascinating,” I said.

  “She was a wonderful woman.”

  “I’m sad I didn’t get to know her.”

  “I am too. But Ali, she’d be so proud of you. You and your sister and your mom.”

  Twenty-two

  Ali

  November

  After my girls’ night in with Grammie, I paid for access to a few genealogy databases and research tools. I was searching for Alice. And sure enough, I found her. Pictures in the social sections of the Seattle Post Intelligencer and Times. Mentions of dinner parties that Alice and Fred had attended. Even a little article about their vacation to Hawaii in 1934, and a few years later, their trip to New York via a ship through the Panama Canal.

  And something I’d known all of my life struck me for the first time. I called my mom.

  “If Great-Grandpa Fred owned a shoe store, how come he and Alice were able to travel to New York and Hawaii during the Great Depression? Wouldn’t he have been wiped out?”

  “He sold the store well before then,” said my mom. “He made a lot of money during the First World War by selling shoes to the government. Both US and Canadian troops. There was some sort of scandal about the quality of the shoes, but by then he’d sold out and I don’t know the details. He went into investments and managed the money.”

  “What happened to the shoe store?”

  “He sold it to some folks who sold it to some other folks who sold it to Nordstrom.”

  “Nordstrom Nordstrom?”

  “That’s the family lore, at least. Do you feel better about shopping there now?” she teased, a smile in her voice.

  “Weirdly, yes. So they just got lucky in the Great Depression?”

  “I know he had losses and had to sell some land, but they weren’t starving.”

  “No.” I laughed. “Going to Hawaii for a month isn’t starving.”

  Late that night, I wrote Ben.

  <>

  Ben,

  Please, call me Ali.

  I cannot believe that I’ve found Elliott’s family. Well, I didn’t find you. My friend Caroline found you with the help of a librarian.

  I’ll get copies of the letters and scan or mail them to you. Whichever you like, let me know.

  As far as my great-grandmother, I didn’t know much about her. Until your email, asking about her, I knew she was my great-grandmother and I was her namesake, but that was it.

  I relayed what I’d learned about Alice, and by the time I was done, several screens were filled with words.

  This is possibly the longest email I’ve written in years. I didn’t mean to dump all of this on you, but it’s not like there’s any secret I’ve revealed. And it’s too late and I’m too tired to read through it all again. So, it’s yours to read or not read or share with your mom or just delete. Whatever you like.

  Is it weird to also think that I wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t be wherever you are if Alice and Elliott hadn’t been kept apart? If they’d gotten married and had children and sailed off into the sunset? They both really wanted to visit Europe, by the way. I hope Elliott got to go because I don’t think Alice ever did.

  Let me know about how you want copies of the letters. Look forward to hearing back.

  Ali

  The email sent, I flipped over to my social media accounts. I wanted to see if I could find Ben. Scrolling through the stream of memes and baby pictures and political posts that greeted me, a selfie of Scott popped up. Him next to his surfboard, the end dug into the sand. He was backlit by the setting sun, the edges of his hair a golden halo, and tucked under his arm, a woman. I ached at the image, at the thought of him being with someone else. I clicked and the picture filled my screen. At least I didn’t know her. Sure, it had been two months. Two months. And he was a catch, as my mom would say, and as she had said. Many times.

  But I hadn’t thought of him being with anyone else. More than anything, I hated that distance from him. That we hadn’t spoken. That the man in the picture wasn’t someone I knew anymore. That I didn’t know that there was a woman in his life. That I learned there was a new woman in his life in this way—through a photo on Facebook. Three years together and, suddenly, we would forever be strangers. Seeing a picture of him happy stung too. Because I wasn’t happy. I wanted to be happy for him, but I couldn’t find a way to be a grown-up about the situation. I closed the lid on my laptop, no longer caring about tracking down Ben, and I crawled into bed with dreams of Elliott in my head.

  A few days later, I heard from Ben.

  <>

  Ali,

  I liked comics a lot when I was growing up. So much that my childhood dream was to be a comic book artist. As you may have guessed, middle school was less than fun for me. Anyway, in some of the old Superman comics, there’s this alternate reality. It’s a planet called htraE, aka Earth spelled backward. It’s like Earth, but everything is opposite. Add in the slew of Sci-Fi I read during those awful middle school years, and I’m convinced that there is an alternate universe or dimension where we don’t exist. Okay, that seemed really weird once I wrote it out. I hope you get what I’m trying to say.

  Anyway, scanned or photocopies work. Whatever is easiest for you.

  Ben

  I pulled out the box of letters, and with my trusty phone, tried to take a few pictures. But the dark ink had soaked through the thin paper, making each letter written visible on the reverse. Add in the fact that Elliott’s long, fluid hand was on both sides of the stationery, and the pictures were barely legible. I fiddled with the lighting. I tried putting the pages against light surfaces, against dark surfaces, but I couldn’t get images easy to read. I’d need a professional.

  <>

  Ben,

  I know exactly what you’re talking about. You don’t make it through medical school without having known more than a few comic book geeks. Also, I have a big brother who was most definitely one of those med school comic book geeks. My thoughts were more along the lines of A Wrinkle in Time, if you ever read that book. It’s the first book I read with alternate universes. Confession—I haven’t stopped. Alternative histories or parallel universes are my favorite things to read. So, yes, I understand exactly what you mean. World War I never happened and Bizarro Alice and Bizarro Elliott lived happily ever after and we don’t exist.

  I’ve attached some photos of the letters, and I know they are terrible and hard to read. I’ll chat with someone and figure out logistics of getting good images made. I want to get a nice set of copies for my mom as part of her Christmas present. I’ll see about getting you a set or at least some cleaned-up images.

  Ali

  <>

  Ali,

  I’m in tech. I can’t go a week without hearing a comic book reference in a meeting. And that sounds awesome.

  Ben

  <>

  Ben,

  I’ve found a vendor that can make scans and bind a physical set. I’m going to order a set for my mom, one for me, and a set for your family. Should be ready in a few weeks.

  Ali

  <>

  Ali,

  That’s cool. Thanks.

  Ben

  Twenty-three

  Ali

  December

  <>

  Hey, Ali. I know you said Christmas and life gets busy, but could you get me an ETA on the letters? My mom is asking about them. And if something’s come up, that’s cool. Let me know. I hope you’re okay.

  Happy New Year.

  Ben

  Twenty-four

  Ali

  January

  <>

  Ben,

  I’m so sorry. Happy New Year!

  I’ve been super busy. I’ve been interviewing for a new job and that’s been eating up my life right now. And my grandmother—Alice’s daughter—isn’t doing so well. I know I’m lucky that I’m thirty-four and still have my grandmother, so I�
��m not complaining. She has congestive heart failure, which is miserable. She moved into assisted living a few months ago, so we’ve been cleaning out her house, putting it on the market, and otherwise pretty much getting things in order for when she’s no longer with us. My parents are both in Kansas City, as is my brother and his wife, so the load isn’t all on my shoulders.

  But between her situation and my job hunt, I’ve been juggling a lot of balls and, to be honest, I’m dropping some. Amazon to the rescue for all of my Christmas shopping this year.

  I haven’t gotten the nice photocopies made yet. I’ve got the company’s contact info, but I haven’t gone out there yet. It’s in the burbs and they are open normal people hours, which don’t match up to my weird hours, so I just need to block out the time on a weekday and do it. I’ll get it done. I promise.

  Ali

  <>

  Ali,

  I’m sorry about your grandmother. That’s rough. To tell you the truth, my mom’s health has been up and down. That’s part of the reason that I made a big life change a few years ago. Switched jobs, moved up to Seattle. She had a cancer scare and it was easier to be closer to her than down in Phoenix.

  Ben

  <>

  I thought you were in Seattle, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure and I didn’t want to be the creepy person from the internet who asks you to meet up. I was just there before the holidays, interviewing with Children’s. I’ll get my act together on the copies.

  <>

  Yeah, I’m back home. Grew up in a suburb, but I live in the city now. Upside, my commute is a fifteen-minute walk. Downside, I live in a tiny place with my big dog. But we make it work. You thinking of moving up here? That’s a great hospital.

  <>

  It’s an amazing hospital. The interview went really well. I had dinner with some of the other docs and the team seemed nice. I’m on a year-long contract here in Kansas City. It’s up in May. I’ve been filling in while one of their doctors does a stint in South America with Doctors Without Borders, and while it’s been great to be home in order to help out with my grandma, the hospital doesn’t have room for another permanent ENT. One of the Seattle surgeons is coming down to KC to observe me in a surgical case soon, so…fingers crossed.

  <>

  Sounds like it’s almost a done deal. Welcome to Seattle! When I moved back, it was a bit of a shock. I was in an actual house in Phoenix, and Thompson, that’s my lab, had a pool and space to run around. Now he’s got a thousand square feet and goes to work with me. Yes, I bring my dog to work with me. Let the mocking commence.

  <>

  No mocking of the dog going to work. I’m kinda jealous on that front. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to medical school, so I could have a cool job where I could bring my dog along. I don’t have time to keep a goldfish alive, but one day I’d like a dog. I had a golden retriever when I was growing up. No offense to this Thompson character, but Charlie Bucket was the best dog ever. And as soon as I’m settled somewhere I want to get a dog.

  <>

  As much fun as I’m having emailing with you, this is an important question. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory from the 70s or the one with Johnny Depp? Answer carefully.

  <>

  Is this a trick question? Because I don’t even recognize the Johnny Depp version as being Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

  <>

  Excellent.

  Marvel or DC?

  <>

  The comic books? Whichever one has Wonder Woman.

  Pancakes or waffles?

  <>

  Close enough. And she’s DC.

  Waffles. Belgian style. Real maple syrup.

  <>

  I’m nodding with approval. The hospital where I did my fellowship had a cafeteria with waffles so good I didn’t care that the syrup wasn’t the good stuff. If you’re ever at Mass Eye and Ear, go to the main cafeteria and get the waffles. You will write me a thank you note.

  Football or baseball?

  <>

  If I’m honest and say something along the lines of real football—aka soccer—are we done here?

  <>

  What’s the verdict? A week of silence and you’re still considering, or are we really done here? If so, I change my answer to football and let you suffer the consequences of my intentional ambiguity.

  <>

  Oh, sorry. I haven’t forgotten you. I’ve been busy with my family and work. Soccer is fine. Observation surgery went well. Also I had a phone interview with a hospital in Orlando.

  I took the letters out to the place to get scanned and bound. Should be ready in a few weeks. The woman didn’t quite know how long it would take because it depends on how much computer magic she has to do to the images to get them cleaned up where the ink that’s bled through isn’t so visible. What’s new with you?

  <>

  Not much. Work’s good. Looking for a new place. Thompson’s got a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. I’m not sure what Bailey is, so I probably just should say he has a friend. He keeps playing with Bailey who is a gray standard poodle. Yes, he probably has more friends at my office than I do. Orlando would be…awful in August. And that comes from someone who spent a decade in Arizona. When will you hear about Seattle?

  <>

  If things go through with Seattle, a few weeks for contract negotiation. Orlando? Who knows, but I thought the phone interview went well. And then the recruiter I’m working with has a phone interview set up with a hospital in El Paso. It’s almost February, and my gig here is up in May, so I’ve still got some time to get a plan together. Physician placement either moves at warp speed or is painfully slow, and with me being under contract through May, no one’s been in a hurry on getting me an offer.

  What’s new in Thompson’s life? I’ve been cruising shelter websites for a puppy and every time I see a lab mix, which is every time I look at puppies, I think about him. What color lab is he, anyway?

  “What’s the plan, Ali?” Caroline asked.

  “Margaritas and queso and chips. Here’s to finally getting a day off tomorrow.” I took a salty-fruity sip of my electric green drink.

  “Well, since that’s what we ordered, duh,” she said, gesturing to the table. Bess was at home with Caroline’s husband and we were having a post-holiday girls’ night at a Mexican place that didn’t skimp on the tequila or the food coloring in its artificially flavored mix. “But you know what I’m asking. How’d it go with the guy from Seattle?”

  “Ben?”

  “Sure. The surgeon who was coming to observe. I don’t know his name.”

  “Oh,” I said, the heat of a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Wrong guy. Will Lannings was the guy who came down to observe. It went well. It wasn’t a particularly tricky procedure. We had dinner afterward and he gave me some more insight into the group.”

  “That sounds promising.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed with a nod. “It did. I also had a call with a hospital in Orlando this week and the recruiter is setting up something with a hospital in El Paso.”

  “Okay, so I’m going to put a pin,” she said, holding up one hand flat like a piece of paper and using pinched fingers to show how she was placing a pin in it, “in the Ben thing. But El Paso? Orlando? Can you get any farther away from Seattle than Orlando?”

  “There’s Miami.”

  “I’m being serious and you’re being technical. Are you going to let your job decide the rest of your life?”

  When I didn’t answer, she continued, talking to me in a way that only someone who had known me for decades could without making me mad.

  “You get to pick. You jumped through all of the hoops. Dotted every i and crossed every t. You get to pick now. Pick. And if you pick wrong, pick again. But you have to pick. You don’t need to let someone else make thi
s decision for you. Don’t let Will Whatever from Wherever make this decision for you. Don’t let some hospital administrator or some recruiter make this decision for you. Pick. Commit.”

  I took another drink of my margarita, pursed my lips and nodded. She was right. I needed to make a decision about what I wanted my life to look like, but I didn’t know how to do that. “So like, how?”

  “Where do you want to be? Seattle makes sense to me for you. It’s a city. But Orlando and El Paso are just sprawling hot messes. Personally, I vote for Orlando, so we can see you and do Disney World trips when Bess is bigger. But don’t let Scott scare you off from California. You want to be in Orange County? Then be in Orange County. It’s big enough for both of you. And we can visit you and see Disneyland.”

  I snagged a clean napkin out of the pop-up dispenser and a pen from my purse and began drawing out a game we’d played so many times.

  M-A-S-H I wrote at the top, and underneath I drew an empty box. As I began to draw sets of empty lines around the box, Caroline pulled the pen from my hand.

  “Hey!” I protested.

  “That’s not picking. That’s letting randomness pick. That’s no different than letting someone else pick. You. Have. To. Pick,” she said clapping her hands on the beat of each word for emphasis.

  “Seattle,” I said. “It’s a city. It’s near the ocean. It’s a great hospital system. I’d get to do the work I want.”

  “Your life isn’t your work. So let’s try this again without mentioning work.”

  “It’s a real city. It’s near the ocean and the mountains. It doesn’t get really cold or really hot. The food scene is great. There are lots of people from all over the world.”