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When she got home from work that night, the house was empty of people, but Frank’s presence was there, everywhere, in every messy room, in every dusty corner, in every space and in every crevice. She could feel him shuffling around the kitchen, emptying bottles, pounding the floor with his heavy step and slamming doors. She could hear his anger, guilt, and sadness stirring around inside of him. She could feel her own sadness mixing with his, almost as if their combined sadness was creating a separate entity. She would never stop feeling sad for him now that she had realized that he had no chance for happiness. She had relinquished her cause of trying to save him and she knew that he would never attempt to save himself.
She went into her room, took the painting out of the closet, and stared at it. Last night, it felt complete, but tonight it felt incomplete. Something inside of each one of them wasn’t coming through as much as it could. It was the something that was beyond their skin. It was the part of them that remained the same even as time moved through their bodies. The part of them that was who they were. She thought that if she could look at some old family photographs, she might be able to see what was missing in each of them and then she could paint the missing parts. She ran into the den, opened a cabinet full of old books, and pulled out a big box containing family pictures that had been thrown inside as if wanting to be forgotten.
She very slowly and carefully opened the box, almost as if its contents were under pressure. This box, that had been stowed conveniently away for years and that held their family memories, felt as if it was bursting with emotion-- both good and bad. Pictures were thrown in like old playing cards, some curled, some bent, some discolored, some streaked and faded. A few really old, black and white photos looked like they had been taken in Italy, or the old country, as the people in the photo probably referred to it.
The first photo she examined was of all six of them at Stouffer’s Restaurant in Philadelphia on one of the coldest days of the year. Silvia had worn her blue and white ski jacket and her new Levi jeans. Cosmo had just turned thirteen and, therefore, was too cool to be seen with his family. Silvia remembered him walking a long distance away from the rest of them for the entire day. Angie whined about how she wanted to shop, and didn’t stop until they were finally all forced inside a Macy’s for warmth. Donna worried about Vince getting frostbite. Silvia only wanted to look at the tops of all of the buildings. And Frank. Poor Frank. That was one of the many days when he blamed them all for driving him to drink. And to his great relief, Stouffer’s had some pretty good happy hour specials.
There was a photo of their spring vacation in Florida when Silvia was five years old. They all stayed with Frank’s friend, Joe, who he had met in law school. Joe had a big black mustache and talked with a slight lisp. He had a girlfriend, a dog, and no kids of his own, so he seemed to enjoy an opportunity to spend time with the Greco kids. He took Silvia out looking for seashells on the beach every morning. By the end of their stay, she had wished that she could trade in her own father for Joe, or as she came to know him, Uncle Joe. He went with the family to Disney World, where Angie got food poisoning on a hot dog, Cosmo got lost, and the Three Little Pigs sexually harassed Donna. No one could believe their eyes. The three, short, chubby, costumed men surrounded her, and began laughing like you would expect short chubby costumed men to laugh-- like munchkins. Then one quickly put his pudgy little hand on one of Donna’s breasts. Frank ran fast and furious towards Donna and chased the little men, but never caught up to them, as they hid themselves away in some staff-only area. He then divided the rest of the day between complaining about the event at the customer service department and contemplating bringing a suit against Disney World on sexual harassment charges. In the end, he decided that he would not bring a suit against them, as he always blamed such types of lawsuits for the cheapening and ruining the legal profession.
Then there was a photo of Frank, Donna and Cosmo taken right before Cosmo’s confirmation. Donna looked proud, but tired, as she did in almost all of her pictures. Frank looked like he couldn’t wait to get this obligatory thing over with. And Cosmo had the look of dread his eyes, as if he knew from experience what was to happen after the ceremony. Frank and Donna’s father, Cosimo, got embroiled in their worst fight yet. And who could have foreseen that such a viscous battle would ensue over who got the last piece of eggplant Parmesan? Donna regretted not making another platter, but she thought one would be plenty. She had fretted for many years to come and had condemned herself as the culprit for this very unfortunate event. The occasion also marked Cosmo’s last presence in church, and Donna blamed herself for this as well. She reasoned that, if the party following his confirmation had not been a catastrophe because of her failure to make more eggplant Parmesan, Cosmo would have remained a practicing Catholic. And despite Cosmo’s various explanations to his mother that his transformation was a long time coming, and that it had nothing to do with the failed party, she couldn’t exonerate herself.
There was a picture of Angie’s wedding before Frank’s drunken toast. The picture included Vince, who was eleven or twelve and looked really happy to be there. Who would have ever guessed that he would grow into an adult disliking his new brother-in-law as much as he did? Silvia was in a pink, long, puffy dress she was forced to wear as the Maid of Honor. And Angie looked simultaneously radiant and panicked. Her panic undoubtedly came from the fact that Frank might end up making a fool of himself and dragging her down with his foolishness. Her fears, of course, were well justified.
There was a photo of the summer of Silvia’s eighth year when they had vacationed at the shore. They rented the top level of a house in Sea Isle City. It was a big, two-story square painted light pink with a dark pink canvas awning, under which Donna, Angie, and Silvia spent long, humid days sitting, reading, and listening to the ocean. Frank spent most of the vacation inside sleeping in front of the television set as he wasn’t a fan of the sun. Vince built sand castles on the beach, while Cosmo sat beside him reading comic books underneath a green and yellow striped umbrella. At night, they walked on the boardwalk and went to the amusement park, which was Silvia’s favorite part. She loved the rides that spun around, the cotton candy, and the freaky house of mirrors. She remembered it being a mostly mellow holiday, with only one relatively minor explosion from Frank that resulted from the high cost of a dinner one night.
“Jesus Christ,” he complained to Donna on the car ride home from the restaurant. “I’d like to know when the hell food got so God damned expensive!”
“Oh, c’mon, Frank. We deserve one night out at a nice restaurant.”
“Well, that’s easy for you to say! You’re not the one who pays the bills! You’re not the one who’s got to go around to all those one horse courtrooms like a fucking dog!” Silvia thought that, at one time, Donna may have tried to stop Frank from cursing in front of them, but she had no memory of her mother attempting this feat.
There was a photo of Donna’s fortieth birthday party with everyone gathered around the dining room table with a big, white cake with blue roses in the center. Angie looked busy cutting the cake and serving slices to everyone. Cosmo’s face had not yet turned cynical. Frank looked only slightly hammered. Vince looked too young to know anything about the significance of a woman turning forty. In fact, he probably had no concerns at all, except for getting the biggest rose on the cake. Silvia was smiling big and effortlessly like her family’s gathering was all that she needed for her happiness. This photo gave her a shiver and even produced a tear. She felt a strong desire to get inside of the picture and to be a part of it.
She then came upon a picture of her riding her first bike at the age of four. Cosmo had taken the training wheels off of her little blue Schwinn and he and Angie ran alongside while holding onto her as she peddled. They let go of her when she was about half way up the driveway. She could still remember the feeling of exhilaration she had as she took her first peddles. It made her sad to remember that there
was a time when Cosmo and Angie were at least close enough to make the joint effort of helping her learn to ride a bike.
The next picture was in the kitchen during one of their Sunday dinners, which seemed to last all day long. Donna was wearing a red and white apron, cooking busily and happily, and waving her arms about in a most animated way. This was before the day that Frank so wrongly pronounced himself a cook, and when Donna still reigned free in the kitchen to cook her delicious dinners that never faltered in any way. Cosmo and Angie were sitting side by side, as if they could stand each other, and even looked like they could pass for friends. Silvia was setting the table, and Vince was smiling big for the camera and sitting next to Frank, who had one of those tired, hard-working smiles on his face.
There was a picture of Cosmo and Frank playing pool in the basement. Frank was a really good pool player. Even great. Silvia was sure that he must have loved being better at something than Cosmo. This may have been the only photo with just the two of them together. Frank looked happy, or at least, mildly content. Cosmo had a goofy expression on his face, and jokingly had a pool stick pointed at his head.
The next photo was of one of their summer trips to Quebec. This was the Greco’s traditional family vacation, which was something that began in Donna’s family as an outgrowth of Grandma Tucci’s desire to crawl up the steps of St. Anne de Beaupre Shrine on her knees in an effort to show her complete and steadfast devotion to her faith. Donna decided to continue the tradition with her own family, as she grew to love Quebec, and, in particular, Montreal. So they all packed into their Cadillac in late August in the early morning hours and headed up to Canada. They stopped only for coffee and bathroom breaks and ate whatever they brought with them in the car, like chips, fruit, nuts, cheese, and juice boxes. Vince was at the center of the photo, a boy of three, wide eyed with curiosity, seeing the world outside of New Jersey for the first time in his life. Silvia was beside him, holding his hand in a protective sort of way. She took well to the role of looking out for little Vincie and she almost wished that she had been able to play the role of protector a bit longer. But Vince was fiercely independent at a young age, so much so that he often resented being helped. Angie was standing in front of them all, as if posing for a high fashion magazine. Cosmo was standing as far away from Frank as possible, undoubtedly due to having taken such a long ride up in the same car with him. Donna was looking straight out at the camera, her smile taking over her entire face. Frank didn’t look angry. Instead, he was looking at Donna, as if he was still in love with her. The closer Silvia looked at the photo, the more she saw. His eyes were filled with both love and remorse, as if to say that he was sorry that he couldn’t be a better husband, but that he was doing the best he could. If Silvia looked at any one of her family members, really looked at them, she might see this same sort of sadness in their eyes. If they could all put the sad parts of their eyes together, it would equal Frank’s eyes. Almost as if the remorse that lived within Frank’s body had fractionalized and was doled out evenly to each of his family members.
The next picture was of Frank and Donna on the Steel Pier in Atlantic City, with Donna’s face glowing brilliantly and filled with love. The longer Silvia stared at this picture, the more clear Donna’s ambiguity towards Frank became. Maybe her staying with him wasn’t so much based on fear, confusion, and sacrifice. Maybe it was based on love and, as Grandma Tucci would say, “You can’t help whom you fall in love with.” She undoubtedly was referring to herself and to her daughter when she had said this, and, perhaps, to all the other people who had fallen in love with someone who was less than the right one. Silvia felt a great understanding for her mother at this moment and for her confusion, her sometimes selfishness, and other times selflessness. It all made sense to her now.
The next photo was one of the only Christmases she remembered that wasn’t demolished by one of Frank’s usual holiday outbursts. In the picture, Angie and Donna sat at the piano playing carols, while the other three decorated the tree. Silvia remembered Frank taking the picture. She was looking right at the camera, smiling as bold, bright, and shiny as a newly bloomed sunflower. It was the same smile that was on her face in the photo from Donna’s fortieth birthday party and a smile she that had not had in years. When she tried now, it made her jaws feel strained and awkward. Only a person who was truly happy could make such a smile. And she was truly happy in this picture. She was perfectly able to be happy in her hometown in New Jersey. She had this photo to prove it. The words “you can be happy anywhere,” spoken to her once by a friend, resounded in her head, and although these same words previously bounced off of her, they were now penetrating her skin, and going deep inside of her. She suddenly felt lightness in her body and a feeling of warmth in her stomach. She knew now that it didn’t matter whether she stayed in New Jersey or moved to Portland because happiness really had nothing to do with anything outside of herself. It never did and it never would. She got one of those lumps in her throat that precedes tears.
But instead of crying, she got up and went in to her bedroom, with her energy for the reunion revived and stronger than ever. She got on her computer and sent out emails to all of her family members reminding them of the time of Vince’s graduation party and location of the Central Cafe where the dinner would be held. She sent individual invites, as well as a group invitation. She attached maps to all the emails, even though she knew they all knew just where the restaurant was as it was in the center of their hometown. She didn’t leave room for RSVPs, thus not giving them an opportunity to say that they couldn’t attend, to make excuses, or to be their usual cowardly selves. She simply said that she had made the reservation for a party of seven and one baby for seven on the evening of June seventh. ‘What a lot of sevens!’ she wrote, followed by ‘See you all then’, and closed with, ‘Should be a great time!’ She signed her name with the word ‘love’ which wasn’t customary for her when sending emails, but which she knew was absolutely essential in this case.
Olive Branches Don't Grow On Trees Page 35
