by C. D'Angelo
“Okay, but I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. But I know you will be coming home shortly and will tell me everything that happens.” He embraces me, dips me in his strong arms, and kisses me with the same intensity as seconds ago.
I want to spend more time with the family, my family, and explore my ancestral city. Yes, the tourist spots, you are guessing right. I should see one of the world’s first banks from the 1400s, the renowned aquarium, and the Cimitero monumentale di Staglieno, a cemetery known for its monuments, before I leave. Oh, and of course Palazzo San Giorgio. Marco Polo was imprisoned there. Ah, that was always a fun pool game.
“Want to take a drive to the port area?” Brian asks. “Even though we know your Grandpa didn’t leave from here, I think it would still be nice to see.”
“Sounds good to me. I want to see everything I can.”
Catching a cab on the main road, we pass through the centro storico, the historic part of Genoa with so much medieval history it makes my heart pound in thrilling beats. The protective stone city walls stand high with their two towers of port gate entry, looking like a castle’s entrance. And the alleys within look like mazes from what I can see. They seem to stretch out for miles, connecting here and there in confusing non-patterns. When I return to explore, I’ll have to stay on the main paths or I’ll be lost for days. I could deal with getting lost here, though.
As we drive by one cobblestone grounded alley outside the walls, there’s a family eating at an unusually long table in the middle of the road. Like, smack dab in the middle, taking up the width of the narrow alley. I could reach both sides with my arms stretched halfway out.
Also, the fact that neighbors are okay with this practice of taking up the entire space outside is something new to me. I don’t think that would fly in America. I imagine people trying to get out of their homes and being met with an immediate table full of people, speaking loudly amidst mouthwatering smells of food. That last part wouldn’t be too bad, I guess. People going about their day may see the table, stop, and mangia! I am sure all would be welcome.
Upon entering the modernized port area, and I use the term ‘modern’ loosely due to some parts being one hundred years old, we’re dropped off along the path parallel to the water.
“Let’s find a place to sit, eat, and take in this view,” I say.
“Agreed,” Brian says. “It’s already been two hours since breakfast so you know I want more food in this belly.”
I playfully punch it. Our hunger can’t be matched by any other couple I’ve known.
Sitting under this yellow umbrella near the sea for lunch feels soothing and right. I’m just where I need to be and just who I need to be with. The blue water’s slow tides ripple in a smooth white motion onto shore, as I feel the information has flowed upon me once entering Italy. Genoa isn’t named “La Superba” for nothing, it really is a perfectly superb city in every way.
I sip my white wine and let its sweetness glide down my throat. The cold temperature feels refreshing on this sunny day. Listening to the dueling accordionists on the path next to this patio, I savor my shrimp scampi while its fresh lemon and garlic invade my veins.
Finishing my meal, I have an urge that needs to be met. “Brian, you know what we need next?”
“No, tell me.”
“To find a gelateria. Dessert is necessary today. Pistachio flavored gelato in a huge waffle cone is calling my name.” I squint and imagine eating it right now.
“I could go for that. But I’ll have chocolate.”
Walking for a few minutes away from the restaurant, we find my oasis. With both of our mouths full of creamy gelato, we stroll along the path. I mindfully lick each morsel of my huge scoops. The accordionists’ music dissipates as we get farther away and the sea’s waves take over.
“Hey, why don’t we carry on this calm vibe and go to the area of Via Giuseppe Garibaldi? It’s a section of Genoa where there are beautiful palazzos, or palaces,” I say.
“You had me at calm,” he says. “It feels good to slow down the pace a little today.”
“Yes, it does. Well, my mission is complete. So, now we can be on a true vacation.” I take a large whiff of the sea air and let the sun soak in my face as I look toward the Ligurian sky.
Shortly, we are in the royal area I only saw online until today. The pictures of the buildings show their elaborate personalities, with wooden doors, frescos, painted ceilings, and courtyards filled with greenery. Seeing these details in person is unreal. I’m staring at my second set of frescos this week, which was only a dream previously.
I look up and all around me, scanning each building in view. Their arched entryways, with columns alongside, and carved door and window sculptures capture my attention. As we walk, I notice the changes that occurred to the buildings over time. Some of the palaces look like they have been converted into apartments, where others are private homes, hotels, businesses, government offices, and even tiny museums. How sad that all of the palaces couldn’t remain as they were in their heyday. At least with shops and hotels being present, we could go inside, because I need to see the interior of these places. Maybe I’ll take an official tour of a still intact palace next week. Ooh, yes.
Walking in to tour one boutique hotel, Brian and I find ourselves in a foyer with the most gold on the walls I have ever seen, or knew was possible, in my entire life. Gold furniture also fills the room and matches the walls, of course. And the humongous glass and gold chandelier present as a centerpiece on the ceiling leaves me in appreciation of my heritage’s aesthetic for the millionth time. It is different than my own style, but I love it and can appreciate its beauty.
We continue to walk until we see an outdoor patio. The courtyard matches virtual pictures of Italian verandas. Italian busts line the square area, with green grass and blooming tulips at their feet. A few iron tables and chairs are carefully placed where some would get direct sunlight and some direct shade. Brian makes himself at home at one that provides shade.
“Hey,” I whisper forcefully. “We can’t just stay here. We aren’t hotel guests.”
“Don’t worry, Rachel. I’m sure the police won’t put us in jail for taking a rest. We could always tell them the gold blinded us for a second.”
“Funny. But seriously. Let’s go. I feel strange just hanging out here when we aren’t paying.” I start walking toward the door to go inside, but it is too late. A tall, middle-aged waiter walks over to us. Busted.
The waiter grins and says, “Buon Pomeriggio. Vorresti da bere?”
Okay, maybe we won’t be put in Italian jail. “No, grazie. Stavamo andando via,” I reply.
Brian sits up straighter and shoots me a shocked glance, which matches my internal disbelief. How do I know how to answer his question, and so fast? I am getting somewhere in language skills with immersion in the Italian culture, I guess. And, I don’t want to crawl in a corner due to the anxiety of being spotted.
The waiter nods, continues to smile, and quietly leaves us alone. Now Brian can outwardly react. “How did you do that? I didn’t even know what he said. What did he say? What did you say?”
“Yeah, that was odd, right? I know the Italian word for drink and just responded naturally when he said good afternoon and asked if we want one. I said we are leaving.”
“You should think about learning more of the language because you may be a natural.” Brian looks proud of me, which makes my heart happy.
“Well…” I look off to the side. “I would love to. I just never thought about it much before all the family history stuff started. But being here and being surrounded by the language, I feel like I would love to at least try.”
He stands up and comes over to me. “And now you have family who would gladly help you to practice.” Brian gives my shoulder a love squeeze.
“I’ll get on that sometime soon. Now that thi
s FHOD is over, at least I think it is, I can focus on another huge project.”
“I see your eyes lighting up. Uh-oh.”
I smile. “Come on, we need to see so much more.”
We leave the hotel to further explore the area. Stumbling upon a store that sells handmade soap, candles, lace, and other carefully sewn items, I notice a workshop in the back. There’s a huge glass window for shoppers to view the work of the artists in action. A seamstress is sewing what looks like linen curtains. Tiny flower embellishments are being embroidered on the edges of the material in multiple colors. The delicate nature of the product speaks to the beauty in its simplicity, which is an Italian style suiting my own.
Another artist sees me and waves with an accompanying grin. She’s in another corner of the room making soap. The aroma in the store is like a bouquet, with notes of roses and lavender. I breathe it in as we exit.
Fatigue starts to set in after an hour of this glorious strolling. Being in the sun is draining. As soon as I stop and rest on a fountain ledge, hunger strikes as well, if you can believe it. I do.
Brian’s on board to eat, so we find a cafe to relax and grab a bite. This time, it’s just a snack of a small tomato, mozzarella, and basil panini, so it doesn’t really count as eating. Oh, who am I kidding, we are always eating in Italy. Isn’t that what everyone indulges in here?
While I let my food settle and enjoy some people-watching from our table in the pure, clean air, Brian calls the hotel and asks for an extension on our time in the room. We are in luck. I hear him confirm that I can stay. Also, he is considerate enough to change my flight for me. I am able to just relax, with my feet propped up on a chair, and bask in my newly adopted, yet original family home.
Oh, I better call Maggie while I have a chance, though. I enable my Wi-Fi and hit the video call button under her name.
“Rachel! How are you?”
“Good! You?”
“I’m all good here. Just missing you.” She gives me an exaggerated frown.
“Me too, but I want to tell you some things you won’t believe.” I give the basics and sip on my sparkling water as she reacts to each astounding fact I’ve discovered.
“Girl, I cannot believe all this! You are right. The family stuff, the Titanic tie… What?! You have to promise to tell me every tiny detail when you’re back in New York. I know you don’t want to sit on here for hours when you are in Italy!” She yells the last word, causing me to jerk my head back but laugh.
“Like you would ever escape not being told absolutely everything.”
She laughs. “Harrison is missing you too you know. He told me.”
“Aww, I miss him even more. But, I know he is in good hands with you. Hey, let’s video chat tomorrow with Harrison on the phone so he can see me and I can talk to him.”
“The things I do for you.” She rolls her eyes. “Fine.”
“Okay, talk then. Thanks again, Mags.”
“Bye!” she says hanging up.
I may as well keep it rolling by calling my parents too. Brian’s occupied making other calls anyway. Thankfully, my parents can video call because I have to see my dad’s face with the Titanic news. How could I not?
Mom picks up the call and all I see is a circling jumble as she moves the tablet around. When sound kicks in my Dad says, “Hit that button. What does that one do?”
Oh gosh, here we go. They aren’t the best with technology.
“Dad, Mom, hey, it’s me. Stop moving the tablet. I can hear you fine. Can you hear me?”
They lay it flat and both look down. “Oh, there you are, honey,” Mom says. Dad smiles and tilts it so I’m not staring at their nostrils.
“Hi, Rachel. This is unusual for you, but I’m glad you called. How’s Italy?” Dad chimes in.
“It’s amazing to the max. Really, like nothing I’ve ever seen or experienced in my life.”
“That’s great news. We want to hear all about it. And how’s Brian?” Mom asks.
“He’s great and I want to tell you all about what’s happened here, but I had to call you today to tell you something in particular that I’ve learned.” Ooh, I need to spit it out. I’m going to bust.
“That sounds good. Tell us,” Dad says.
“I found a living relative of ours!” I blurt out.
“Wow, that’s something! Who are they?” Dad is hooked, from the look in his eyes.
“Remember that Grandpa had a half-sister? She is still living and I met her and her daughter, Great-Aunt Angeline and Teodora.” I stop to allow them to connect the information. Both of them look at each other, smile, but don’t speak.
“So, they told me news I would have never imagined. Please brace yourself for what I’m going to tell you.”
“You are scaring me a little, Rachel,” Mom says.
“Don’t be scared, it’s just big news…and a huge shock,” I say.
Dad stops me, yet tells me, “Continue already, Madone!” He’s impatient, like his daughter sometimes.
“Grandpa, Great-Uncle Vince, and Great-Grandpa Gino were on the Titanic.”
Now both of their eyes squint in unison as their mouths drop open.
Dad manages to speak. “Are you sure? That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. But it is all true. Great-Grandpa sadly had to stay on board because he was a man, but the kids escaped by lifeboat, thank God.”
Mom speaks. “I don’t believe it. I do believe you, but just not this news.”
“It’s pretty unbelievable, yes. Especially since you know how obsessed I have always been with this topic.”
“Jesus. Yes, dear.” Mom nods her head.
“So, the boys lived with a nice family in the States until they were adults.”
“This is why Dad never wanted to talk about his ocean voyage or ever go back to Italy.” Dad’s eyes move upward and he looks like he’s processing the magnitude of our family’s past.
“Yes,” I simply say.
“I can’t…I…” Dad doesn’t finish his sentence. Of all people, I understand that, so I help him out.
“Dad, I know you must be surprised, like I was, but I can fill you in on more details once I return. I couldn’t wait for you to know this part, though.” And Lord knows I could talk for hours about the Titanic.
He doesn’t say anything. His eyes look like he’s in a daze.
Mom jumps in, “Well, the family secret is revealed. I think it’s a good thing you’ve done, Rachel.”
“I’m relieved to hear you say that.” I can’t believe it. She meant what she said at Easter dinner.
“I’m glad you know your history now. It’s important to know where you come from, especially when it’s an even stronger history than we thought. That man, your grandpa, was one of a kind,” she tells me.
Dad looks like he is outwardly focused again by the blinking of his eyes. “Thanks for telling us and thanks for doing this. I…wasn’t aware that this information was something I also needed to know about my history. I’m glad you stayed so persistent.”
“Thanks, guys. I‘m going to go, but I’ll talk with you soon. Oh, I’m staying a little longer here also. Don’t worry, though. I have family here now. I’m safe.”
They don’t inquire much more, which is odd for them. It may be because of the shock or maybe they see me in a different light.
“Okay, we will talk to you soon then. Try to call us again if you can,” Mom requests before we end the call.
“Love you both.”
“We love you too,” each say.
As we leave the cafe, Brian tells me when he was finished working he looked up the history of the hotel. The site led him to view the English translation of the name of the hotel, Pace. “It means peace, Rachel. I thought that was relevant to how you seem to feel nowadays, especially since y
esterday. I can tell it’s all setting in for you.”
I think about what he’s saying. Then, looking into his friendly eyes, I smile. “And you really helped me with this adventure you know. I couldn’t have done it without your encouragement. You’ve been my rock. I gained so many family members from this trip, but got even closer to you, who is also my family.”
He looks like I told him I was giving him a billion dollars. “That means the world to me. You are my world.”
“I love you, Brian. Forever.” I gaze into his eyes, confident that he’s my partner in life.
Brian and my story isn’t over and I don’t know what will happen between us. He may propose, he may not. It may be soon, it may take a long time. I am fine with anything because I am okay with me now. What I do know is that we are meant to be together. We weathered this storm and can get through anything. I’m now a person who knows about the past, is satisfied with the present, and is happy about the future’s treasures that await me.
If circumstances in my life led me to Genoa, led me to finding out that my family were part of the world’s history by traveling on the Titanic, and emotionally led me back to Brian, I think destiny has a way of making everything work out as it should. I mean, isn’t that the definition of destiny?
Making our way to Great-Aunt Angeline and Teodora’s house tonight for dinner, I reflect on all of the heart gifts that my family has provided for me, including those I never realized until the vacation of a lifetime. Meeting living relatives who I never even knew existed a few months ago has shown me to dream as big as the universe because dreams can come true. I have a huge family who love me and I’m part of a bigger picture with a larger meaning in the world. It’s unbelievable. There’s so many other people now who I hope I make proud for the life I live, and that found family will never be lost again. I will make sure of that.
I realize family is everything. They truly can lead a lost soul through the darkness and to the light. They stick by a person in times of fear, emptiness, dread, anxiety, sadness, and every other feeling a person goes through. People who maybe were never considered family, or sometimes hadn’t ever been met, could turn out to be family in the end; Brian and the Serafinos are part of mine after all.