by C. D'Angelo
Well, I can always start my own tree on this site. That’s what I will have to do. I will enter my new family information from Ancestry.com and create a tree. Maybe FamilySearch sends hints like Ancestry.com does once I have some names in there. Then, I may even get new information.
Yes, this is the plan. I better get to it so I can keep the momentum going. I feel a surge of energy wash over me that feels strangely familiar. I remember having energy once.
Chapter 17
The humid July Florida air hits me in the face as soon as Brian and I walk outside of the Orlando International Airport doors. I can feel every strand of my hair frizzing up and preparing to be one big poofy mess. Good thing I don’t wear makeup because it would be running down my face within seconds.
“Whoa.” Brian looks at me with raised eyebrows.
“Yeah, we thought the city was stifling.” I try to flatten my busting out curls as a preemptive move, but they refuse to be tamed. “This is why I don’t leave the apartment in summer.”
“Only in the summer?”
I see him smile, but my face remains flat. His statement strikes me in my chest and I freeze. We just arrived on a semi-vacation and he’s giving me a dig? I don’t need that. Not cool, buddy.
But he’s right. That’s what I dislike most. I know getting out of the apartment helps. I know I used to go out more and want to do more around the city. But all that I know doesn’t matter. It’s what I do that matters…or the lack thereof.
Please know I’m trying, Brian. I’m really trying. Ugh. Every time I find something in the ancestry research, I feel hope that things may change in my life; not just for me, but for us. I have so many more moments of feeling like my old self too. That has to count for something. That must mean something.
“Rachel?”
“Yeah, err, let’s get the car. I have to check in at the conference in a few hours and I can barely breathe through this heat.” No need to cause an argument. Push it down and continue on, Rachel.
“You better put on SPF 1000 sunscreen here.”
I glare at him. He doesn’t know when he’s already on the other side of the crossed line.
“I’m just kidding.” He rolls his eyes.
“I know.” I rally a smile, but my heart sinks.
He’s telling the truth about kidding. I really do know. He doesn’t seem to realize these little comments hurt, even though they aren’t meant to cause harm. He would never try to hurt my feelings.
Eh, I don’t need to start this trip with that kind of open communication. The kind about how he has two strikes already in the first minutes of being outdoors in the Sunshine State. Grr. And we see where it got us the last time.
Maybe I’ll toughen up over time. Maybe when I’m back to myself I won’t be this sensitive. I cross my fingers hidden behind my back.
“Let’s get moving.” I smile more fully this time and play off my internal battle in a hopefully believable manner. My feelings are not his fault. This is all on me.
Phew. I’m relieved that my presentation is over and I’m back at the hotel. Those three hours felt like six, but at least people enjoyed it. So many people thanked me at the end that I think it’s safe to assume. I almost got teary eyed for the gratitude. Even though I needed to take time away from my family history search to prepare for this lecture, it was worth it. Maybe many kids will be helped with my suggestions and they can succeed in school and at home. That’s part of why I love my job, no matter how my mental state is at the time. And altruism is proven to help the “D” word.
But now I can try to relax and recharge. I rub my face and push back my curls from my forehead.
“Want to go to the pool?” Brian moves the curtains aside and looks out the hotel room window.
I stay in position, laying on the bed, fully suited since plopping down the second I entered the door. Baking in the sun isn’t my idea of fun or relaxation, but I’ve been irritable since we arrived yesterday and need a change in gears. I swear it’s the heat. It makes my patience the size of a mini cannoli. And nobody likes a cannoli that size.
“Um.” I look over at my laptop I planned to use for more ancestry research. “Sure, that might be nice.”
Can my face fake genuine interest? I hope so.
“Great, let’s change.” He jumps into action.
By the time we make it down to the pool, the only place left to sit is in the shade. Perfect for us Northerners, even though I’ve already slathered on a pound of sunscreen in the room. I can’t do that down here while everyone looks at the scene. I can hear them talking now. Ooh, that pale girl will be burnt to a crisp today. I feel bad for her later. Hope she has some aloe in her bag.
“Come in with me.” Brian reaches out his hand to invite me into the cool blue water.
I grab it. “Yes please.” I squint up at the sun through sunglasses and under my hat’s brim. Maddone and Mamma Mia! I may melt if I don’t get in.
We ease into the pool from the beach entrance. “I’ve never seen a pool designed like walking into the ocean.”
“That’s how they do it down here, I guess,” Brian says then dips below the water. “Ahh, it’s refreshing.”
“Yeah, it is.” I keep my head above water, but take pleasure in the decrease in body heat at least.
We linger in a quiet corner and sip from our water bottles.
“It’s beautiful here, Rach.” Brian leans back on the side of the pool, elbows up on the deck.
“I could never live here. My blood’s too thick from the north. But I have to admit it’s nice to get out from being confined in our apartment and also see some palm trees.”
“Well, nobody forces you to stay in there, you know. We live in a place where there are constant activities, but someone wants to sit at their computer for all of their free time. I wonder who that can be.”
“Hey, you’re lucky I’m not on it right now.” I giggle.
“Oh, am I?” He splashes me.
“Aaah!” I splash back.
I feel like a kid at summer camp. But the silly elation fades as fast as it came when I think how this summer isn’t that different than the last few years, pre-project. Again. Dread washes over me, along with another splash from Brian.
“What the hell, Brian?”
“You looked like you were in outer space, so I brought you back. It worked, didn’t it?”
“For the moment.” I tilt my head in exaggeration.
“So, seriously though, how are you feeling down here?”
“In the pool? We just talked about this. How are you feeling?” I use my therapist voice.
“No, I mean about us.”
A bundle of nerves shoot from my heart to my toes. “Come again?” I didn’t expect this question, especially not in a pool in sizzling Orlando. Why is he asking? Have I been that horrible to him in this heat? Oh no. Would he say he’s leaving me when I’m in a bathing suit? Nobody should be broken up with while in a wet bathing suit. At least let me be in a cover up or a towel. Have some decency, man.
“I just want to have that open communication you love.”
Argh, the new catch phrase in our home rears its ugly head. “Uh-huh.” My wheels are still spinning.
“I’ve noticed you have been happier lately.” His eyes show longing and his voice is soft.
“I’ve been okay. I mean, finding my family’s tree already put together like a solid puzzle has been a peak of the last few weeks. And I think I’m feeling better here and there. More often than in the past.”
“Yes, I see that and I’m glad to hear you feel it. But I hope your happiness is more than just that. I’m hoping I contribute to it.” He stares into my eyes.
Does he? Can my mood really be dependent solely on a stranger’s discovery of our family? No, it can’t be. I know my ancestry is a main focus in my life right now, but let
’s remember the whole point of it; to feel full and alive again. And Brian is a large part of having a vibrant life. Even in our minor ups and downs in the last few weeks, err, months, okay, okay, year, he’s a welcomed constant. He feels safe and warm, even when I scare myself. He’s my Brian.
“Of course you do. You are my partner in crime. My better half. Usually that statement makes me sick, but in this case it’s true. Nobody is as kind and wonderful as you.”
“Oh, stop.” He pauses and pretends to blush by patting his cheeks. When I don’t speak, he says, “No, that really means go on.”
“Brian, Brian, Brian.” I shake my head.
“Okay, enough sappy stuff. We are officially on vacation now that your presentation is over.”
“I should attend more sessions, but eh, that’s all right.”
“I encourage you to play hooky. Stay in the pool, have a drink. Now, where do you want to eat tonight? While you were away, I asked the concierge—”
“Oh, aren’t we fancy now. ‘I asked the concierge,’” I say in a snobby sounding voice.
He pretends to ignore me and purposely continues. “—for suggestions. I know you’re always up for Mexican and there’s a place on I-Drive that makes all their food from scratch. The fajitas look outstanding. And they make the guacamole tableside.”
Almost before he can finish the sentence I say, “I’m in. I can use that guac. The spicier the better. And I want a homemade taco.” But just as the words leave my lips my annoying mind links Mexican and fainting. That won’t happen again. I’m in a much better place now. I’ll be fine. I better be fine this time.
Chapter 18
“No!” I push the laptop away from me.
I thought the Florida trip sealed the deal with me being on an upswing in my mood, once I cooled down from the inferno inside and out. I especially felt relief after valuable time with Brian, my successful presentation, the glorious tacos, and the even more glorious refrain from fainting. But the high and the streak of prosperity from the family tree seems to have run out as quickly as the sun fried my northern skin. Oh yes, we all knew it would.
I just spent weeks creating my family tree in FamilySearch and making sure it parallels the one in Ancestry.com that I perfected from Sophia’s information. It’s been so much fun to see it all come together and has given me more energy and motivation with the project and in my life in general. Brian and I have been smooth sailing lately too. I’m digging out of this hole I’ve been in. I can feel it. August has been a good month all the way around. I should have known the other shoe would drop eventually.
Now that my tree finally matches the Ancestry.com one, I stumble upon this, this catastrophe! I lean closer to the screen to try to wish it away. What is this new ship manifest Sophia submitted to her tree today? It can’t be right. Gino and Salvatore couldn’t have been on the SS Ancona in 1908. That’s eight years prior to when Great-Grandpa, Great-Uncle Vince, and Grandpa came here to the US. It doesn’t add up.
Sophia must have made a terrible mistake. Maybe I need to get ahold of her and inform her. That wouldn’t be awkward. Hi, you have never met me and I’m your cousin, I think, but you have mistakenly added a document that can’t be correct so please remove it, so our trees can be perfect. She would probably block me forever.
A sinking feeling weighs down my chest, as a horrible thought rises to the surface. I don’t want to believe this. It can’t be. No, shove it away. But my effort isn’t working.
I have to admit to myself that I never saw Great-Uncle Vince in Sophia’s tree.
How did I miss that fact? I was so excited for the other people and all the new family members I was virtually meeting that I forgot about sweet Great-Uncle Vince.
My head falls in my hands.
I drag the laptop back to me so I can comb through her tree one more time. I skim through all the names and see the information I’ve already analyzed to death, hoping for reassurance. Her family has to be my family. All the other facts line up. But Great-Uncle Vince isn’t there. It’s one hundred percent true.
After a few frantic minutes, I realize the hideous truth. This tree isn’t my family tree. How could I have not seen it before? How did I let Great-Uncle Vince slip from my mind? I’m sorry, I mouth to the sky, in hopes he knows I didn’t mean to forget about him.
I’m such a fool, copying a stranger’s family tree into my account. It looked like it was accurate though. I thought it was a sure thing. I fell for a rookie mistake.
Tears gush from my eyes. I don’t understand why this is so hard. I look to the ceiling again for the heavens beyond, ready to plead. Again, I mouth my words. Grandpa, if you can hear me, and I believe you can, help me out please. I want to know your story, our story. Help me find it. It would mean everything to me to know more about your journey and what made you the man I adored.
Well, back to square one.
Time keeps slipping today and the wall between me and knowing Grandpa’s past grows taller. It’s like there’s an imaginary evil brick layer getting a kick out of laying more and more bricks on top of one another. There’s no limit to the height and he’s overjoyed to keep stacking them, as high as the endless sky. I can almost hear him laughing. Muhahaha. Stack, stack, stack.
No matter how much I keep pressing on and trying my best to figure out this mess, I’m going in circles on these sites and so far, have no forward motion. I keep going back to Sophia’s tree and trying to find a way it can be mine as well. But it’s not. I need to say goodbye to her and all of her relatives. Nice knowing ya, fake cousin.
Maybe I need to give up for today. I need to stick to that thought of how a walk and getting out of here in general has been helpful in the past. Leave this room, Rachel. Another day will be easier. The information will come on another day. Another day, darn it. It will come.
I dive for my phone on the couch, find the number I want, and hit send.
“Maggie, are you free to hang out?”
“I may need a doctor to check my hearing because are you calling and asking me out? Rachel wants to leave her apartment?”
I sense the excitement in her voice, despite the sarcasm.
“Yes, I would love to grab some lunch at Luigi’s deli and vent to you. Is that okay?”
“I’ll be there in five.”
I take a swig of water from my glass, grab my keys and wallet, slide on my flip flops, and get the heck out of this apartment.
I adore living where everything is so close. This is what I dreamed of as a kid in the suburbs of Philly. Now, I’m living it. Appreciate that more, Rach. I touch my fingers to my temple wishing to force that thought in my head in a more permanent manner.
Chelsea has my favorite street to walk down in all of New York City; Cushman Row. I’m glad it’s on my path to Luigi’s. This street has a series of pre-Civil War era, Greek Revival style red brick row houses, each with their black wrought iron rails next to steep steps leading to their elaborate front door entrances. The woodwork, often highlighted in whitewash above the multicolored doors on the street, show their owners’ unique style. The door frames contain old world details one doesn’t find in today’s architecture; simple and beautiful, which I admire. No need for flashiness here.
Also, nearby, in multiple directions, I can walk by grand Gothic or Romanesque Revival style churches anytime. Maybe I’ll do that for a long and leisurely walk home. The dark gray stone for some of the churches, once white and clean, along with the stained-glass windows, are now weathered in appearance. How did they look when brand new, before the grime of the world set in on them? We all were like that at one point, then we decay over the years.
Before I realize my feet carried me to the deli, Maggie is walking toward me.
“Hugs, friend.” She embraces me with a warm, strong embrace.
“Thanks for coming. Let’s eat.”
“You don’t h
ave to ask me twice.” She smiles.
Ordering is fast, thankfully. It’s part of why I love this Chelsea deli staple. That and the tasty sandwiches. So, we grab a booth and get comfy. I unwrap my sandwich and take a huge bite into the crusty Italian bread. The salami, prosciutto, mozzarella, and fig jam sandwich is the cure to all that ails me. Yeah, I wish it were that simple.
I force myself to stop eating after a few tasty chews so I can release what I need to share with Maggie.
“Ooh, Rachel, that sucks. I can’t believe it wasn’t your family on that tree.”
“I fell into the trap of being too excited before confirming the info. I swore I wouldn’t do that and I did. Stupid me.”
“No, it was excited you, not stupid you.”
“I guess. But now it’s almost like starting over. I can’t find anything about Grandpa or the others before they arrived in the US. I want to know how they got here, what their life was like in Italy, to see the names of more family members…” I feel the tears gathering behind my eyelids.
“I know you do, boo. I know. This is a difficult project to take on. If it were easy, everyone would do it.” Maggie reaches her hand across the table.
I grip it and sniffle. “Yeah, I have thought that too. I wish I could pay a genealogist to do it for me.”
“Where’s the fun in that anyway?”
“True. But I’d get my answers.”
“Well, keep that as an option. You could always save up for it.”
“Yeah. The block in my flow is beyond frustrating. I felt so good making progress. But it was false hope.”
“I hear ya. But you gotta keep trying. You have to keep hoping. That’s the only way this will get done.”
“But what if I never break this research wall I’ve hit?” I see the bricklayer smirking in my mind’s eye. Grr.
“You’ll bulldoze it down if I know you. Just like you are doing with the Brian wall. We just don’t know when they’ll be flattened. But it will happen.” She winks.