Olive Branches Don't Grow On Trees

by Grace Mattioli

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  The ride up the turnpike got progressively busier and more chaotic as Silvia drove to Angie’s home in North Jersey. Drivers became increasingly aggressive, fighting through their steel encapsulations. Weaving, racing, and tailgating. The increase in traffic, as she drove north, was telling of the difference between north and South Jersey. But it wasn’t just the increased speed of life and the density of population. There were other more subtle differences as well. In the south, lunch meat sandwiched inside of long rolls are called hoagies; in the north, they are called submarines or subs for short. In the south, the convenient stores are Wawa’s. In the north, they are 7-Eleven’s. South Jersey is like an extension of Philadelphia. They share the same accent and style, while North Jersey shares the sameness of New York. There is Philly Jersey and New York Jersey, with the latter assuming superiority to the former.

  “They turn their noses up at us,” Frank often complained of the way northerners treated the southerners. Maybe it was reminiscent of the way northern Italian folk treated their southern counterparts, and Frank, having his roots in southern Italy, didn’t like this snobbery one bit.

  He also didn’t like the idea that his favorite child had relocated to North Jersey. He didn’t even want her to go away to college at Rutgers, but he was certain that she would return home after her four years. In fact, everyone in the family thought that she would be happy to come back home. But Silvia knew that her beautiful sister would quickly be snatched up by some rich guy with a bright future. And she was, during her junior year.

  Doug Rothchild had just completed the MBA program at Princeton and was guaranteed a position at Goldman Sachs. After only a few months of meeting Angie, he proposed at his parents’ Christmas party right in front of his family and their esteemed friends. His parents were surprisingly accepting, despite her ethnic diversion from their long line of pure blue bloods. Their grand children’s eyes would most likely be brown, and they might even inherit some fat gene that the Rothchilds surely suspected to be lurking in the Greco family.

  Frank was panicked that, as the father of a bride marrying into a wealthy family, he would have to spend a major amount of money for an expensive wedding, but he also figured that he would be off the hook for life. At least Angie had the good sense to marry rich. He still wasn’t going to go for some gala affair, so the wedding was nice, but small. He told his daughter to tell her future in-laws that she didn’t want a lot of people at her wedding and that that sort of thing would make her nervous. This couldn’t have been further from the truth. Angie would have absolutely loved a big bash with lots of people she didn’t know or care about. Angie’s soon-to-be mother in-law was less than pleased with the idea of a small wedding, but she was glad that it was held at a local fine dining establishment. Silvia more than appreciated the absence of a cheesy wedding band and liked the smallness of the wedding party, which consisted of herself and Doug’s best friend, a former frat guy named Ray, who made Silvia feel like she was invisible.

  While Frank was happy that Angie was marrying into money, the occasion was sad and disheartening because his favorite child was moving away from him. When Angie announced the plans to her family, Frank pretended to be overjoyed, but he was a bad actor and everyone, including Angie, could see the sadness coming through his eyes. Donna understood and accepted his sadness, for she knew how he had invested all of his hopes and dreams into the one and only child who really seemed connected to him.

  So none of the Grecos were really surprised when he got inebriated at the wedding party and made a toast while drunk. Embarrassed and uncomfortable, but not surprised. The toast consisted of some slurs, followed by a long pause that led pathetically into tears. Angie’s new mother-in-law, who could drink and drink and drink and yet remain perfectly composed, suddenly looked weak with shock, like she might pass out at any instant. Angie smiled to the small crowd, as though to apologize for her father’s poor behavior, too ashamed to be touched by his tears.

  She always did manage to conceal her feelings better than anyone in the family. This frustrated Donna because she couldn’t determine her own daughter’s state of mind. Angie seemed to enjoy keeping her mother in the dark and at a distance. Angie and Donna never bonded, and Donna blamed herself for this failing. She attributed it to returning to graduate school for a master’s in English literature to fulfill a life-long dream to be a college professor. She realized, by the time that Cosmo was born, that this way of thinking wasn’t the best thing for her children. But it was too late for her and Angie, and the little girl gravitated towards her father, who reciprocated by making her his favorite.

  Despite being Frank’s favorite and despite her beauty and popularity at school, Angie seemed incapable of enjoying life. She was stuck inside of her flawless skin as though imprisoned by it, never able to break through. Never free. She hid her sadness well, as it wasn’t apparent to anyone except for Silvia, who was always able to see right through fake laughter and fraudulent smiles. Her extra sensory gift was especially keen when it came to feeling the pain belonging to one of her own siblings, and she felt great empathy for Angie. Angie reciprocated Silvia’s empathy by confiding in her. So, one night, when she swallowed too many pills, it was Silvia, and not Donna or Frank, whom she told. It was Silvia who picked up the phone and called 911 the instant Angie told her what she had done. And it was Silvia who stayed by her side in the ambulance. It was Silvia’s face that was the first thing that Angie saw after she awoke on her hospital bed.

  Silvia’s quick response showed her strong sense of responsibility, supreme sensibility and composure under the gravest of circumstances. It was this act that substantiated her reputation within their family as the sensible one, the one who had her head screwed on straight, the one to ask for advice or support, and as the one who always had to appear held together, even when she was falling apart inside. It was also this event that forged an unbreakable bond between the two sisters. Angie knew that Silvia cared, and Silvia knew that Angie hurt. Despite the fact that the two sisters resided in two entirely different worlds, they loved each other in a way that only sisters can.

  This difference was apparent as Silvia entered Angie’s house. Her home was well hidden from street view, surrounded by big, billowy trees and a stately black iron gate that opened up into a driveway that was more like a small road. The yard resembled a botanical garden, groomed to perfection, although Frank might say that his yard was more perfect. The house was a huge, modern, and striking off-white structure that screamed of ostentation.

  Angie was waiting for her sister on the porch of her house, which was as big as the apartment that Silvia had previously rented with her ex-boyfriend in Philadelphia. Her hair was tied back in a short, peppy ponytail, and she wore faded jeans and a T-shirt. Even dressed down, she looked like a fairy tale princess. Beside her sat two little, white Maltese dogs that stared out at Silvia with timid curiosity. When the two sisters hugged, the dogs’ curiosity grew and they began to sniff Silvia, but kept an appropriate distance, like the very well-mannered dogs they were. They relished Silvia’s gentle pets upon their little recently groomed heads.

  Angie commented, “They just came from the beauty parlor. They had their nails all manicured and everything.” Silvia smiled, but behind her smile, she tried to calculate how much money had been spent on the dogs’ visit to the beauty parlor. She estimated it to be more than she had spent on all of her beauty treatments in the past two years.

  “Where’s Isabella?” asked Silvia.

  “Sleeping, upstairs. The nanny is here too.”

  An immediate sense of space, openness, and sterility came upon Silvia as they entered the house, and she felt exposed, insecure, and most of all, cold. The complete lack of clutter also made the wrapped gift box on the table very prominent. The big box was undoubtedly for Silvia. Since Angie had married Doug, she was quite generous to her little sister, and her generosity always took the form of clothing or shoes. Silvia figured that thi
s had something to do with her older sister’s disapproval of the way that she dressed.

  “That’s all wrong,” Angie would say when they were kids, looking down at six-year-old Silvia dressed in a green dress and purple stockings. “You have to wear colors that match, or at least compliment each other.” Then she would open little Silvia’s drawers and get out a pair of appropriately matching stockings, either white or black, for her to change into. As Silvia grew older, Angie could no longer tell her younger sister to change into something else. She could only suggest it through buying her new things to wear. Silvia didn’t mind, but didn’t give it too much attention either.

  “Because I missed your birthday. Better late than never,” said Angie referring to the gift.

  “Thank you, Angie,” said Silvia with a combination of gratitude and guilt, for she had not gotten Angie anything for her birthday. She seemed reluctant to open it, but Angie urged her by saying, “Go ahead. Open it!”

  Silvia wasn’t surprised when she saw the box was from J. Crew, but when she saw that it contained a leather jacket, she felt an awful sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t wear leather, as she couldn’t wear clothing that was made of animals that she imagined were brutally and needlessly killed. Even her shoes were made of canvas or of synthetic materials. Despite her anti-leather convictions, she couldn’t possibly imagine telling her sister, who rarely smiled, and who was smiling big and bold at this moment, that she was against all leather. She had no idea what a leather jacket from J. Crew cost, but knew it was a lot of money, and although Angie could definitely afford it, it almost seemed too generous.

  “God, Angie, I don’t know what to say,” said Silvia, still slightly shocked.

  “Try it on!”

  Silvia tried it on, only to be more disappointed because it fit her absolutely perfect. In fact, she looked fantastic in this jacket, like it had been made for her. Maybe she could wear it and make this one exception to her no-leather rule. After all, it wasn’t like she had purchased it. It was a gift. It might even be rude and ungracious to not wear the jacket. She wondered how Cosmo might react if he saw her wearing it. Either he would think it was a fake or know it was a gift from Angie. His seeing the jacket would probably create more fuel for the fire that existed between him and Angie.

  This split between them started when they were toddlers and they used to squabble over who got more ice cream in their little plastic bowls. But Silvia sometimes thought that their conflict may have started as soon as Cosmo was born. Angie, who had a tendency towards jealousy, must have somehow sensed that her baby brother would be getting more attention than she herself ever got from their mother. As children, they destroyed each other’s toys. She barbecued some of his Dungeons and Dragons miniature figurines to get back at him for beheading her favorite Barbie doll. They refused to be seen together at school as adolescents because their two groups of friends were so different. Cosmo would often refuse to drive to school in the same car as Angie, so he ended up walking the two-mile walk to school. There was a very brief period of friendship between them during high school, when they would sneak into local bars together. That ended as soon as Angie was off to college and came home for her visits declaring herself an adult, a woman of the world, and looking down at her young, inexperienced siblings with blatant condescension. Of course, no one resented this treatment as much as Cosmo, who was closest to her in age.

  From that point on, the line between them became thicker and their relationship grew as icy as a Siberian winter. When she got married, Cosmo brought a girl wearing a dress that appeared to be made from aluminum foil, had a shaved head, and sported a giant pentagram tattoo that covered the back of her neck. The whole family was sure that Angie would never forgive him for that stunt, but she did, and she showed her forgiveness by asking him to be the godfather of her child. Cosmo thanked, but declined based on his religious beliefs that were pretty much non-existent. That finalized the divide in their relationship for Angie, and despite Cosmo’s supposed numerous attempts to contact her via email, she had not responded, and the two had not spoken a word to each other since the godfather invitation.

  With that history, how could Silvia ask Angie to come to an event where Cosmos would be present? This would involve any kind of trickery and manipulation she could conjure. She first tried to appeal to Angie’s sympathy for Vince by telling her how difficult Frank was being about helping him out with his tuition, and how it would be nice to show their support for their younger brother.

  “So Mom and I thought it would be a nice idea to have a little party after his graduation ceremony,” said Silvia as she sat down beside her sister.

  “Well, that sounds nice, but why do I have to be there?” she asked.

  “Because you’re Dad’s favorite, and you being there would just make him feel so much more comfortable. Besides, you know Vince would really appreciate having you there.” She didn’t reveal that her plan to coerce Frank to go was largely contingent upon Angie’s presence at the affair.

  Angie looked stubbornly at the floor as if hoping that if she looked long enough Silvia might stop bothering her about going to the dinner. So Silvia added something that she knew her sister couldn’t resist-- her need for keeping up appearances.

  “How would it look if we were all there except for you? How do you think Mom would feel if you deprived her of an opportunity to see her only grandchild?”

  “Alright already. I’ll go. But do I have to bring Doug? I know Vince can’t stand him.”

  Silvia was caught completely off guard because she wasn’t at all aware that Angie knew about Vince’s dislike for her husband. She had always taken Angie for being less perceptive and observant. So she did the only thing that she could think of doing-- she lied.

  “That’s not true.”

  Angie just looked back at her with a snide look on her face as if to say, “Don’t bullshit me.” So once again Silvia used the appearance thing.

  “Anyway, how would that look to everyone, if you show up without Doug? Dad might think that he doesn’t like our family or something. And Doug might think that we don’t like him.”

  “Well, I guess that’s true.”

  Silvia couldn’t believe it was this easy. She was starting to think of herself as a natural peacemaker. When she considered this, she smiled inside. But one of her not-so-nice internal voices told her that she might just be a manipulative liar instead of a natural peacemaker, making her internal smile turn sour. And then the two conflicting voices inside of her reconciled by agreeing that maybe she was just a combination of the two. Or maybe making peace sometimes necessitated the use of some mild deception and manipulation. And if those bad things are used to make something as great and worthy as peace, then maybe, in cases such as this one, they are not so bad.

  Angie then added what Silvia knew would come up sooner or later. “You know I haven’t spoken to Cosmo in over three years.”

  “Don’t worry about Cosmo. He’ll be fine. I promise.”

  Then to get her sister’s mind redirected, she said, “Now let’s go see if we can find Bruce Springsteen’s house. Didn’t you tell me you thought you might have discovered the street that it’s on?” Angie’s face lit up, and she jumped up out of her seat like a jack-in-the-box.

  “I’ll go tell the nanny,” Angie said, running out of the room.