by C. D'Angelo
“Whatever, Rach. It doesn’t matter to me. You’re the one making this a huge issue. No one cares.”
“Oh, that’s nice. And I don’t believe you! Of course she cares. Nothing means anything to you!”
“Rach—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter as I stomp to the bedroom. The tears start as soon as the door shuts.
He yells out, “I didn’t mean that,” but I don’t respond.
I set my food on the nightstand and curl up under the comforter. Harrison snuggles next to me. “How could he think this isn’t so major for me that I would want to spit it out in sections while pre-occupied? Why does he view it as such a superficial topic that doesn’t deserve a full-on conversation? Everything means something to me so if this isn’t the way I want to share my news, it won’t be the way it happens. And he should respect that.”
Harrison can’t be bothered, keeping his head resting comfortably on my lap.
“Trying to find out more about myself through my family history is important. And the information I find could help me heal and feel like Grandpa isn’t gone. How can he say nobody cares? Doesn’t he want that healing for me, for us?”
Harrison meows and jumps off the bed, clearly not interested in listening to my monologue any longer.
I sit up and notice my laptop on the bench in front of the window. Nothing is going to stop me on this mission. Not even Brian.
“Rachel! Brian! Over here!”
Maggie and Ray are standing next to an adorable pink hamburger food truck, waving. The decision about what to eat will be easy, it seems. I break the silence of our walk to the festival by asking Brian, “Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah, burgers sound good.” He smiles and crouches down to lock eyes. “And I’m sorr—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Now it’s my turn to keep him from apologizing. “Let’s have a good time. I was being silly anyway.”
“I can’t imagine you being that way.” He smiles.
“Good thing we are almost near them,” I whisper an imaginary threat and shake my fist.
A walk helps to clear my head sometimes. Being in the fresh air puts things in perspective. I need to stop overreacting. Gosh, Rachel. Get it together.
It seems like it helped Brian too. I don’t plan on rehashing the fights—plural, ugh. If he wants to talk later, fine, but if not, I’m just going to try to be a good girlfriend.
Open communication is to be determined by this lady for what it just put us through.
“Normally, the line takes forever to get through because they’re so popular,” Maggie explains after a few minutes of standing together. “I can’t believe we only waited fifteen minutes. Good thing we jumped in on it though because I need to eat.”
“This is record time?” I don’t want to tell her this seems like a long wait to me. I need to refuel after the night and morning I had as soon as possible. Oh well, we are staying in line, obviously.
She nods.
Luckily, it doesn’t take too much longer before we are able to devour the sought-after food. People are right to wait, I have to admit.
“Hey, have you heard what going to be built over there?” Maggie says after swallowing a mouth full of sweet potato fries and motioning toward the old railroad tracks.
“Huh?”
“There’s going to be an elevated path along the tracks. It will be called The High Path. No, wait.” She squints and looks at Ray who shrugs and takes another bite of his burger. “Oh. The High Line!” Her hand rises and the last few fries are lost from her knocked tray.
“Cool.” I show the same level of enthusiasm as if she has told me a hardware store would be built there.
“Do you not get what this means?” she says, still enthused.
“No, sorry.” I look at Brian and Ray for a clue but gain nothing.
“More stores, restaurants, beautiful sculptures along the path, and who knows what else. It will follow the Hudson. It’s supposed to have pretty little park benches where you could look at the river or the city. I think it will be the place to be. If you don’t want to be there, then poo on you.” She blows a raspberry at me.
“Okay, okay. It sounds neat.”
“Neat? Oh, Rachel.” She shakes her head.
“Sorry,” I say while amping up my ability to pretend to be excited with her. “I do think that will be great for us to have here.”
I notice Brian and Ray wandered away from this conversation to check out some fabulous looking produce. Now’s my opportunity to fill Maggie in on some current events.
“Mags.” I speak softly.
“Rach.” She matches my tone and dips her head to make eye contact.
“I want to let you know some stuff.”
“Ooh, tell me the deets.” She locks elbows with me and leads me further from the men.
“Since we last spoke, so much has happened. I started researching my family history.”
“You what? Niiice. What are you finding out? Any celebs in your bloodline?” Her face lights up.
“Not yet.” I giggle. “No, it’s become something that brings some joy to my soul. It happened by chance because of your list suggestion.”
“See, don’t I know you or what?”
“Yes, you do. So, I haven’t learned much yet, but I’m not going to stop until I do. I realized my grandpa never wanted to tell us about his journey to the US or anything about his childhood.”
“That’s weird.”
“I know. I even visited my parents to see what they knew about Grandpa’s story, but no luck. I mean, I got more basic info like the year my family came from Italy, but nothing mind blowing.”
“Nothing juicy is what you’re telling me.”
“Nothing juicy.” I laugh.
“I see a little twinkle in your eye when you talk about this project. I want you to keep doing this, or whatever it involves, because I don’t ever see that sparkle in you anymore.”
My heart sinks. My face must show my mood shift because she reaches out to hug me.
“Now, there’s no need for all that sadness. I love ya.”
“I’m so sorry for being such a lousy friend lately, Mags. I really—”
“Be done with that. I won’t have any of this sorry business. We all go through phases and you’ve been there for me when it was my time. Think nothing more of it. Let’s think about how my girl found her happy activity we hoped for.”
“Yeah, it’s frustrating when I don’t find what I want, or to not even really know what I’m looking for, but every tiny bit of my grandpa’s story makes me feel closer to him.”
“I’m so glad for you.” She peeks over my shoulder then whispers. “Now what about you and Brian? How’s it been?”
I glance over to him. “Well, if you would have asked me a day ago, I would have a different answer. We’re hit or miss. We’ve been a little more open in talking, a little more affectionate, and have had a few dates. But I hurt his feelings last night and he was still angry this morning. So, overall…I don’t know. Probably better than not. Does that answer your question?” I chuckle.
“Yes, that was very clear.”
I glance toward the guys once more before leaning in close to Maggie and lowering my voice. “There is so much more to tell you, but I can’t right now.”
The guys appear with a few shopping bags.
Brian opens his to show me its contents. “I have fresh veggies for dinner. What should we do next?”
He looks emotionally lighter, which shopping for ingredients can do to my man. I’m thankful he doesn’t want to run away screaming from me anymore today. Err, I think he doesn’t.
“There’s a coffee kiosk over here, and a bunch of art stands scattered around. And I know you can smell the pastries and baked breads surrounding us,” Maggie replies.
“I’m good with any or all of those choices, but especially the food ones.” I grin and start walking toward the coffee aroma, ready to check out the options.
Chapter 15
I drag through my apartment door for what seems like the millionth time in the last few weeks. These kids are zapping more of my battery than usual. When it’s low to start with, I guess that isn’t too hard.
The end of the school year always raises their energy level so I should have been prepared. They’ve been cooped up in those classrooms all year and are more than ready for the long summer break. The hot June temps must add to their burning need to be outside and in water of some form; pools, the beach, or at least running through a sprinkler.
Harrison’s already sitting by his food bowl and giving me a longing look. “I’m coming, little guy. Momma had to work late again.”
He meows and drops to the floor, resting his head on his paws.
Before even taking off my shoes, I reach for his dry food and fill his bowl.
“Here you go.”
He continues to lay while he digs in. Talk about having the life of luxury.
I glimpse at my laptop on the table and take a deep breath. I want to continue my research, but have to prepare for the summer therapy conference coming up next month. Why did I have to go ahead and become an ADHD expert? Usually I can just attend workshops, but this time I need to speak in front of way too many people since the organizer wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was so sweet, and convincing, darn it. I do like presenting on behavioral techniques and how to engage parents in treatment, but I’d rather be able to stay home and keep working on my ancestry. My one-track mind does that to me.
Once I settle down on the couch, hair thrown in a bun and face washed, I dive into a loose plan for filling my three hours of presentation time. Making a list is always a great way to start planning. My trusty pen and pad never let me down. Let’s go.
Out of nowhere I hear, “Hey Rach.”
I’m awoken from my internal world and it takes me a second to register someone’s talking to me. “Oh hey. What time is it?”
Brian peeks over the couch. “Late. What do you have going on over here? It looks like your bookshelves exploded.”
“They did.” I laugh. “I had to look through some books for my conference. Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Yeah, I was thinking about that conference of yours. What do you think about me going with you?”
“Oh.” My head jerks back and my eyes enlarge. “You would want to come to Orlando in the middle of summer? You do know it’s probably 200 degrees, right?”
“I thought it would be 300 degrees, so what a relief.” He gathers a stack of books from the couch and sits next to me. “Seriously, wouldn’t that be nice to have a familiar face there?”
“Of course, but you can’t be at my presentation, you know.”
“Yeah, and that’s fine with me. I don’t have a burning desire to learn about therapy. It would be nice to see you at night, to have dinner together or something. I have plenty of work I can do while you are busy changing the world.”
I freeze. I didn’t picture being there with him and any time my plan changes, I need a minute. I know, I know, it’s a good thing that he wants to be there, and I shouldn’t need any time to respond with a resounding “Yes” or a “I thought you’d never ask!” But even in normal Rachel times anxiety stops me in my tracks.
And why is it always him who thinks of these dates or dinners? I’m never the one who suggests an event together, yet I called him out on not having enough quality time together. I can’t seem to get out of my bubble. He’s the kindest man alive and I’m the worst girlfriend in the world. I’m trying to be the best girlfriend. Argh. And there’s the black and white thinking again. Double argh.
No, Rachel, don’t get sucked into the guilt spiral. Stop! And P.S., think gray.
“Sure, that would be great. I didn’t book my plane ticket yet so we can look at flights this weekend. I’d love to have you there.”
“All right, Mickey Mouse, here we come.”
“Uh, stop right there, buddy. There will be no Disney adventures for this woman.”
“But it’s right up your alley. Crowds of people, noisy, and energetic. I thought you would want to see the head cheese. Oh, well now I don’t know if I still want to go.”
“Uh-huh. Yes, that sounds just like me. How you know me so well after all these years.”
I fall into his lap and give him a hug. He squeezes me tighter and we both laugh.
“Let’s celebrate with some pizza. Have you eaten?” Brian says.
I look at the clock and realize it is late; already 9 p.m. “Oh, wow. No, but now that you mention it, I’m starving.” Funny how my stomach can be triggered by knowing the time.
“What a shock.”
Chapter 16
I swallow my sip of coffee and almost miss the coaster as I put down the mug. The computer screen has all my attention.
I figured I would take a short break from planning my presentation, but who I am kidding? When I mess around on these ancestry sites, it’s never short enough for a break. But the project keeps pulling me in like a magnet. I didn’t expect to find this though.
Sophia Pescetti’s family tree has a Gino Granza and a Salvatore Granza. This has to be my family. My heart starts racing.
I scroll up to try to find names I have never heard, not only regarding my family but in general. Anselmuccio? Villana? Whoa. These names are one of a kind. Well, at least nowadays. Who knows if they were as common as the more modern-day Christina or Jenn back in old times? My hands hover over the mouse before zooming in for more names and information about the names, I mean the people. My family.
“Isabello.” That rolls off my tongue nicely. “Isabello.” I have to repeat its melodic pronunciation. And that one’s not too strange of a name. I’ve at least heard of the name female version Isabel.
But people actually had names like these in Italy? How unbelievable. My mind drifts to images of medieval castles, horses, and men in suits of armor. They roamed along the vineyards and rode those horses over the rolling hills of Italy. Or maybe near the coast, trying to stay away from the cliff’s edges along the sea. I bet there were sword fights and duels all the time. Yeah, like my family would have been nobility. Tsk. They were probably the staff living in a shack on the property. That’s okay though. They still would have had tasty food from foraging the land.
Maybe my family made clothes, even back then, just like my grandpa. I bet it’s in my blood. Although, a sewing machine and I never got along so maybe that’s not totally true.
Still, what a world that must have been. These dates go back as far as the 1700s on Sophia’s tree. I quickly type in “18th century Italy” in Google to view this time period of my family’s life.
The age of enlightenment. Ah. Philosophers spoke about new ideas and the Baroque period of music was in full force. I wonder if Anselmuccio knew Vivaldi or Bach. I bet they were all hanging out together, messing around on the harpsichord. Yes, of course. Anselmuccio helped Bach compose all the time. “Ha.” The giddiness is real, people.
But I struck gold here in my research, thanks to Sophia, whoever she is. Maybe I can find her and meet her, since we are family. That will be my goal after finding out about my grandpa. Right now, I need to keep searching for his information though. I can’t wait a second longer or have any delays if I can help it. I’ll come back to you, Ms. Pescetti, don’t you worry.
I start copying all of my new family members to my tree. Each one I bring over to my chart feels like I’m introducing myself to them with a virtual handshake. Hey, Matilde. What’s up, Giovanni? Maddalena, have you met Alessio? I’m sure you would get along.
Harrison rubs along my leg. I pick him up and give him a huge hug.
“I’m finally getting somewhe
re!” I lift his long-haired furry paw to high five him. And…he’s done. He jumps off my lap and gets comfortable by the window.
Maybe FamilySearch has more information from Sophia. I’ve only set up an account on there and haven’t explored it too much yet. Supposedly they have a large Italian registry, I’ve heard. Well, heard meaning saw on Google searches. I switch from Ancestry.com to there and type as fast as my fingers allow to log in.
After three tries, I finally remember my password and get in, grateful not to be locked out. I don’t have time for that. As I type in Sophia’s name, my heart speeds up.
Darn, nothing populates for her. There’s a Sophia Pesci. It’s a close enough name to investigate. but quickly scanning the entry, I see she can’t be my Sophia. This person is much older, according to the birth date. I wish the US would release a more recent census for public viewing, but that won’t happen until 2022 and it’s only the 1950 one. It would make things so much easier for a girl on a mission to have census’ until 2012. Hello!
Okay, I’ll come back to my Sophia. I type in Villana Lionardo and wait for entries to arise.
Nothing.
Hmm, how about Anselmuccio Lionardo? Did I spell it right? I click back to Ancestry.com to make sure. I double and triple check my spellings of both unusual, yet gorgeous, names and try one more time. Yes, those are the correct spellings. As I hit search one more time, I think I stop breathing a second.
What? Nothing again? This is so weird. Take a deep breath, Rachel. In and out. In and out.
I type in a few of my other new family members’ names as well, but there’s still no luck. Maybe I need to change the spelling. Yes, that’s it. Anselmuccio can easily by typed in wrong by someone entering the data, even the wonderful Sophia. Come on search, come on. But once I click the submit button, there are still no entries that populate with my ancestors. Sure, a few names pop up that are close, but they still aren’t my people. They have other surnames or correct surnames and incorrect given names. I wish this was an easy task, but there wouldn’t be genealogists in existence if it were simple.