The Difference

by C. D'Angelo

  “I do too and I think it will. But, what about the us part?”

  Damn. He isn’t going to let me off the hook.

  “I think we’ve been good. I do feel closer to you and more like how it used to be. And I love you to death! Just keep giving me time for getting myself together. That has to come first.”

  “I agree. You have to be okay so we can be okay. You know I love you, Rach.” He shows his pearly whites.

  I take in a deep breath, knowing he does want to continue to be together. The marriage question still lingers, but we’ll figure it out. Step one is me being me. Step two is us being us. Step three will get decided when it gets decided. What I know is I’m happy in this moment.

  “Let’s get on with our night. I’m looking forward to that play.” And I am now. A tiny weight has been lifted off of me. It’s a birthday/anniversary miracle.

  Chapter 34

  Italy Must Do’s

  Visit church (Cattedrale di San Giorgio)- baptism, marriage records?

  Find city registry (Comune di Genoa Anagrafe)- birth, death records?

  If get the address, go to Grandpa’s childhood home

  Explore city- see the port where Grandpa left?

  The list. The Italy list. Italy! I keep staring at it more and more as the days approach and today’s no different.

  “Brian, can I run through some stuff with you?” I call out from the bedroom.

  “Yeah, sure.” He yells back. Walking in the room and sitting on the bed, he asks, “What’s up?”

  I hand him my list. “Here’s what we absolutely need to do in Italy. In exactly fourteen days.”

  “O-okay.” He laughs and reads the points. “Sounds good to me.”

  “The ‘Things to do to prepare for Italy’ list is almost complete, you’ll be happy to know.”

  “That does give me relief. I was worried.”

  I hear his sarcasm, but only chuckle and continue with what I need to release so I don’t burst from anxiety and excitement. “I’m gathering a pile of what to take to Italy and I’m going to start packing.” I point to the bench by the window.

  He furrows his brow. “You do know there’s still time right?”

  “Only a few weeks. May as well get the show on the road.”

  “Uh-huh.” He lays down on his pillow and puts his elbows behind his head.

  I lift up the new shirt I found when Maggie and I went shopping for more spring-like and untypical Rachel-like clothes. “What do you think?”

  “You bought a yellow shirt?”

  “Well,” I say and analyze it. “It’s pale yellow.”

  “No, I mean, that’s great. You are venturing out of your colors and the country.”

  “Yup, and you’ll see more unlikely clothes on the trip. And look at this.” I dump a shopping bag’s contents next to him on the bed.

  He rolls over and starts lifting each item. “A new purse?”

  “A metal strapped purse. Nobody can cut that off of me.”

  “We aren’t going to war, Rachel, just Italy.”

  “You never know. We’ll probably look like tourists, so we can’t be too careful. That’s why I also picked up this identity theft wallet. There’s one for me,” I toss him a wallet, “and one for you.”

  “You shouldn’t have, but thanks.” He places it back down on the bed.

  “No problem. The rest are Italian outlet adapters of course.”

  “Of course.” He nods his head. “Now why do we need them?”

  “Haven’t you researched at all?” I put my hands on my hips and smile.

  “No, that’s covered by my girlfriend.”

  “Ha, yeah. They are needed to plug in devices because Italy’s outlets are different than ours.”

  “Ah, well that’s good to know,” he replies.

  “Oh,” I run to the closet. “I also picked up these walking shoes because I plan to be walking a lot.”

  “Well, I’ll do my part and convert our money to Euros this week. That way it can be another task completed for you. Tell me if there’s anything you need done.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “So, Annabelle’s got my clients handled if needed, she knows she can reach me on your phone, since you have international calling, and Maggie has Harrison’s needs squared away.”

  “Spoiling him and catering to his every whim?”

  “Exactly.” I take a breath and laugh. “She’ll come here twice a day to take care of him.”

  “That’s really nice of her.”

  My eyes widen. “I know.”

  “And last but not least, I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Dov’è il bagno?”

  “What?”

  “I learned common Italian phrases that may come in handy. Plus, of course, I downloaded a translator app on my phone, just to cover my bases. I wouldn’t want to be ordering chicken brains instead of chicken breast. Do Italians eat strange food like that? I hope I won’t find that one out, you know, the hard way.” I pretend to gag.

  “So, what was that question? Doves and bags?”

  “Yes, I asked if you like doves and bags.” I sit down next to him and laugh. “I asked where to find the bathroom, I mean toilet. That’s what they call the bathroom in Italy.”

  “Well, congrats, Rachel. Now you won’t be left wandering the alleys of Italy having to find a corner to relieve yourself.” He pulls me onto him.

  “I don’t plan to have to do that, you weirdo.” I plant my lips on his and he rolls over on top of me, and the items for Italy. “Ouch.” I pull out an adaptor from my back.

  “Oh, sorry about that.”

  “I think I can forgive you.”

  And for the first time in as long as I can remember, I initiate physical time together.

  Chapter 35

  Walking into my parents’ home, my mom shouts, “Well, if it isn’t the world travelers.” A little razzing is expected for this once in a lifetime trip in seven days. One week!

  Dad hangs his car keys on the rack and scatters to the living room while Brian and I set down the Easter loaves of bread on the kitchen table, which he kindly made for us. They look so delicious, I wanted to eat all of them as soon as they were ready yesterday. The traditional circle loaf of braided, ring-like Italian bread has colored eggs in the middle, so they also look gorgeous. This year he made one mini version for each of us, each with our favorite color for the egg at the center.

  My mom comes over to hug us.

  “Good to see you guys,” she says enthusiastically.

  “Yeah, thanks again for celebrating Easter early with us. Buona Pasqua.”

  “Happy Easter to you also, Rachel,” my mom replies walking to the sink. She dips her head and starts rinsing bowls she must have used to cook the meal.

  I know this isn’t ideal for her, so I’m thankful she’s willing to change the Easter celebration again this year, especially when she was far from giving me her blessing for starting my genealogy endeavor.

  She continues speaking in a forced cheerful tone, “It’s wonderful we get to celebrate early,” and smiles.

  She’s trying.

  “Brian, how are you, honey?” Mom asks.

  “All good on my end, Mrs. Granza. Thanks for having us over. We wouldn’t want to miss celebrating with you.”

  “Us too, dear. We wouldn’t miss it for anything, so here we are.” She looks over her shoulder to speak and continues washing the bowls. “Next Sunday, we will be praying for your safety while having a, you know, low key Easter dinner with Dylan.”

  Dad jumps in, “He can’t make it today. I should have told you in the car.”

  My heart leaps, but also, surprisingly, a tinge of sadness follows. What the hell is that about?

  “W
hy?” I ask.

  “He had a school field trip that he couldn’t get out of this weekend. You know how he volunteered to mentor that club at his school. They had a competition this weekend. He sends his regrets.” Dad looks like he means it. Like Dylan would have meant it. Please.

  The thought of him being a mentor to children terrifies me. I hope he is a different person at work—aka a sane person. But, he did kind of reveal more about what’s behind his nastiness with me that last time I saw him, so…

  “That’s fine. It will be nice to have a peaceful dinner, just the four of us. But, you know, I will kind of miss his snide remarks today.” Maybe the realization I had last time we were all together will settle in me. I have a soft spot in my heart now for him. I hope the same happens in his heart for me.

  Taking my first bite of the Pizza Rustica slice during dinner, I think I am having an out of this world experience. The flavors blend in a divine combination in my mouth as I chew. The delectable main course is the traditional Italian Easter pie, and no Easter holiday is complete without it.

  “Mom, this is remarkable! I taste every bit of the soppressata, pepperoni, ham, and prosciutto. That’s all the meat in here, right?”

  “Yes, you are right.” She smiles wide.

  I examine the layer between the two homemade pie crusts. “And if I remember correctly, not that I can see them, but there’s ricotta, mozzarella, provolone, and Romano cheeses?”

  “Right again. Now if you’d only try to cook.”

  “You wouldn’t want that. But, what did you do differently this time? New spices?”

  “It was made with LOL, of course.” She beams.

  “What?”

  “Lots of love.”

  Brian and I both giggle. She must be trying to sound knowledgeable about pop culture.

  “Well, I don’t know if my palette is just preparing for authentic Italian food or what, but your food tastes better than usual today, Mom.” I can hardly stop eating to speak. No time to waste if I want seconds.

  “So, what will your week look like when you are in Italy?” Dad changes the subject, unfazed by the superb cooking of his wife.

  “I can show you my Italy must-do’s list after dinner if you want,” I mumble through the food in my mouth.

  Chef Brian goes straight to his most anticipated aspect of the week. “I can’t wait to have some true Italian wine and bread,” he says with a mouth full of the latter. All acceptable in the Granza house. Don’t ever stop eating.

  I chuckle at Brian’s food obsession, obviously relate to it, and turn back to my dad. “I first plan to go to the church that must be the one our family attended. I think I will have luck with their records there, if anywhere. Those hopefully will lead to more information I haven’t been able to find online. It just has to be the church since the other church responded that they didn’t have our family’s information. I want to sort of retrace Grandpa’s steps while I’m there. You know, to walk on his path a little on his home soil.”

  “Yeah, that too.” Brian grins.

  Dad chimes in, “I really hope you can find out more too. You will have to tell me everything you find. I miss my dad.”

  “He was a great man,” Mom says. “I’m glad you are going and doing this. I know how much you loved him, and how much he loved you.”

  I nod my head. Warmth washes over my chest. My mom is finally in agreement with my mission? Maybe that’s Grandpa’s work from the beyond once again. He must have sprinkled her with knowledge that I need his information.

  She continues, “Rachel, you have to give us all of your flight and hotel information. And do you know what to do if you have an emergency over there? Do you know the phone number for help? And what if you get sick? You’ll need to find a pharmacy. And—”

  “Mom, I got it covered. Don’t you think I looked up all of that info? You know me. I’ll write down the flight and hotel details for you before we leave here though.”

  I know she’s showing her motherly care and concern. She just wants to make sure we are healthy, safe, and that we have set ourselves up for a great trip. And we have. Would I have it any other way? Not a chance.

  “Yeah, believe me, Mrs. Granza, she is more than prepared.” He raises his eyebrows.

  I smile and sit up straighter. That’s right, I don’t leave any stone unturned. Err, as far as I know.

  “You guys be careful over there,” Dad says.

  “Oh, we will be,” I reply.

  “And you call us collect if you need to. Anything you need, we will help you. I’ll jump on a plane right away if I have to,” Mom adds.

  I laugh. “Thank you. I know you would.”

  “I’ll be back,” I say, mid near-suffocating hugs from both of my parents.

  “I know,” they say in unison, dipping their heads.

  “We just love you, okay?” Mom adds with a tear in her eye.

  They hug Brian and keep saying their goodbyes.

  “Have a great time. And remember, don’t leave one detail out in telling us about the old country and our family,” Dad requests. “Brian, you take care of our little girl.”

  “Oh, I will, as always,” he replies.

  “Love you guys,” I say while stepping out the door. We want to walk to the train station in this crisp spring air tonight.

  “Love you too,” they say at the same time, and wave bye.

  Although it is dark and mildly cold, I sense a bright and balmy change in the air. Flowers and trees will bloom soon, and I want to bloom with them. I hope this will be my time, need this to be my time to flourish.

  I grab Brian’s hand as we walk. He looks at me and squeezes it tighter. We are a team on this fact-finding journey. And soon we will be detectives together in a foreign land. We will get to the bottom of this mystery. I will know.

  PART II

  Chapter 36

  It’s the date I’ve been unknowingly waiting for my whole life, March 31, 2013. Zero days left. It feels surreal that today is finally here. The countdown is complete.

  My thoughts are on Mach speed as we race around the apartment so we can leave on time and probably exacerbated by the shock (fear? anxiety? both? other feelings?) that we’ll be in Italy today, well technically tomorrow since the flight is overnight. We won’t be landing on actual Easter, but close enough. It’s the most special Easter of my life.

  “Harrison is all set with enough food for today,” Brian yells out from the kitchen.

  “Thanks,” I say, coming back to the present. “Maggie will be over later. I hate when I’ve had to board him in the past, so thank God for her.” I can’t bear the thought of him lying in a cage all day, bored and sad. My child can’t be cooped up like that. Harrison will be even more thankful than me for Maggie’s loving services.

  But, I think he senses a change is coming. I can tell. He’s looked up at me with wondering eyes in the past few days. My heart breaks for leaving him. Ugh, if I could take him with us, I would.

  “Yes, she’s a good friend,” he says.

  “The best.” Gratitude fills my heart.

  Even though I’ve planned for weeks, there’s always last minute business before a trip, a huge dislike for this planner. Trying to keep us moving, I grab my purse that contains all of the necessary travel items. I check one more time to see the printed flight e-tickets, passports, and the itinerary with all necessary details, like our hotel I can’t wait to see. Eee! All secure and in place. Check. I grab my kelly green wool peacoat that Maggie convinced me to buy and my carry-on bag filled with books and devices for all of our entertainment needs.

  Glancing in our bedroom one more time and hoping to come back to it with much more knowledge than I have leaving, I grin. I have faith it will happen and need to hold that sense close to my heart. Grandpa will help me. I know it.

  Harrison waits in the door frame
and stares up at me. I walk over, pet him with my free hand, and scoop him up. “Love you, little guy. See you real soon. Mags will take good care of you.”

  “I have our suitcases, Rach. Ready?”

  I put Harrison down and say, “Yes, ready.” I smile larger than I have in the past year. “Let’s do this thing.” We are going to Italy.

  My first breath of Genoese air leads me to close my eyes and inhale deep into my abdomen. I’m smelling the most gorgeous scent in the world; my homeland. We. Are. Here.

  I am standing on the land where my ancestors are from and where they actually could have stood decades ago, though before the airport existed. My feet are planted on the concrete in the most grounded, mindful manner I have ever felt. I am in I-T-A-L-Y!

  The loud urban noises make themselves known when I come back to outwardly focused consciousness. Wake up, Rachel. I blink several times. Reality strikes that we are standing on the curb of the arrivals terminal and we need to make our way to the taxi stand.

  “There it is, Rach,” Brian gently guides me to the right post by holding my arm. I silently follow, and continue to take in the surroundings. Good thing he is here to lead me at this point. After the long flight and my current dream-like state, I need his help to stay alert.

  I look around as I walk with him and hear people speaking in charming Italian, or English but with elegant Italian accents. Signs are in Italian and English, but I focus on the Italian verbiage. “Benvenuto,” or “Welcome,” is everywhere. I treasure seeing “Benvenuto a Genova” and mouth the words to retain them. This is ah-mazing!

  Although I’ve learned a few common phrases in Italian in the last few months, I don’t know if we should try to speak in the native language or try English and hope that people understand. Hmm, I remember seeing in travel blogs that it would be best to ask people the phrase “Parla inglese?” first and wait for whether they realize we don’t know how to speak in Italian, so then they hopefully speak in English. At least it will show them we tried to speak their language. Okay, that sounds like the plan. I’ll push past my fear of looking like an idiot to be respectful. I refuse to be that American (you know, the people who are so rude they assume everyone speaks English. Gross.).