by ADAMS, J.
I remind myself not to be judgmental, and that I don't know anything about them or their home life. I am still pondering on the group when a young lady walks by pushing a cleaning cart. Looking at her, she can't be more than eighteen or nineteen years old. She is very curvy, her uniform is neatly pressed and fits her well. Her skin tone is slightly tan, and her wavy hair, which is pulled back in a ponytail, is the blackest black I have ever seen. Thin wisps of hair softly frame her face. Taking in her facial features, I muse that except for the hard look in her gray eyes, she's very pretty. She looks as if she is angry at the world and I sense a great deal of pain behind those eyes.
Taking Adagio by surprise, I stop and watch the girl as she stops to change the bag in a garbage can located next to the group of teenagers. One of the guys in the group points at her and they all start calling out hateful things. It is obvious the young woman is doing her best to ignore them. She finishes changing the garbage and tosses the full bag on top of the cart.
As she moves past the group, one of the guys bumps into the cart, pushing it over. The garbage sack breaks and cleaning supplies scatter everywhere.
The girl swears softly, then stoops down and begins picking up the garbage that has fallen out of the bag. The teenagers laugh and walk off.
Adagio and I look at each other sadly. We approach and begin helping her pick everything up. Glancing at Adagio, I can tell he is a little annoyed that no one bothers to stop and help. People just step around the objects and continue on their way.
Anger flashes in the young woman's eyes. “You don't have to do that,” she says harshly. “I can pick it up myself.”
“We know you can,” I say softly, smiling at her. “We just wanted to help.”
Her eyes soften a little. She says nothing more as we collect all the things that have fallen. When Adagio puts the last rolls of paper towels on the cart, she looked at us and says, “Thanks.” Her voice is a little softer this time.
“You are very welcome,” Adagio says.
Glancing at us once more, she walks away.
“She is in a lot of pain,” I say softly.
“I think so too,” Adagio agrees, taking my hand.
Andrea slowly walks down the busy street, making her way home, a combination of anger and sadness creasing her brow as she thinks about the incident at work. She thought she had become immune to cruel taunts and unkind treatment. After all, she has been cleaning up after loud mouthed teenaged patrons for a year now. She tries to act tough, pretending she doesn't care, but it still hurts.
There are so many times she has asked God why she even exists. The world is rotten and she hates life. And she considers hers a total waste. There are no brothers or sisters, and no mother or father for that matter. Her father ran off before she was even born. Then her mother decided she really didn't care for the title and left her with her grandmother so she could pursue her own dreams. Because of this, Andrea learned the meaning of rejection early in life. Her only achievement so far is graduating from high school. But what good does it do her? There is no money for college, and the little she makes pays the rent on her room and puts a little food on the table. She has nothing going for her and sees no reason to have aspirations. She doesn't have time for elusive dreams. She can only concentrate on surviving.
Andrea angrily brushes the tears away, determined not to give in to emotional weakness. She is stronger than this. At least she had been. Once upon a time she could handle any and everything the world dished out at her.
But now as far as she is concerned, the sooner she can leave this world, the better. Since her life is worthless, living is just a waste of time as well. She will suffer through it a little bit longer.
Maybe.
One hundred-two
We decide to catch an early movie and have dinner afterward.
As we pull away from the curb of the bed and breakfast we've lived in for the past couple of months, I put a hand over Adagio's and ask him to stop.
“What is it, amore?”
“Look,” I say pointing to a girl entering a large house three doors down.
He follows my gaze. “That is the young woman from the mall,” he states more than asks.
“It is,” I say with a smile. “I have thought about her a lot this past week. There is just something about her that has kept her on my mind.”
“With all the time we have lived in this neighborhood, I can't believe we haven't seen her before now,” Adagio says.
“I can't either.”
Squeezing my hand, he starts the car and moves forward a little, stopping in front of the large rooming house. He turns off the engine and we sit for a moment, staring up at the house. The place looks like another bed and breakfast. It is well kept and the yard is lovely.
“Let's go inside,” I say.
“We will probably have to knock on a few doors to find the right room,” Adagio says, opening the door for me. “And we don't even know her name.”
“I do,” I say, smiling.
His eyes widen in surprise. “How?”
“A couple of days after the incident I called the mall and asked about her. They couldn't give me any other information, but they did give me her first name.”
Adagio smiles and squeezes my hand. “You are amazing, you know that?”
“No more than you, my love.”
We enter the building and knock on several doors but get no answer. We walk up to the second floor. Two more doors are unanswered. I knock on the next door twice and am about to move on to another when I hear the clicking of the lock. The the door is cracked open slightly and I quickly smile.
Andrea stares blankly at the two older people. “Yeah?” she says, wondering what they want.
“I don't know if you remember us, but we met you at the mall last week. Some teens were giving you a hard time while you were working, and my husband and I stopped to help you.”
“Yeah, I do,” she says warily. Suspicion fill her eyes. “How did you find out where I lived? You follow me home or something?”
Cisely again smiles, shaking her head. “It just so happens we have been staying at the bed and breakfast down the street from your building and saw you when you came home.”
Andrea continues to stare at them, still wondering what they want.
“My name is Cisely St. John.” She pulls Adagio within Andrea's view. “And this is my husband, Adagio. We live in Italy and have been visiting here for the past few months. We wanted to formally meet you and let you know we were thinking about you.”
Andrea doesn't know what to say. This is something new for her. Even hearing the words, “we were thinking about you” is foreign. “I'm Andrea,” she finally says.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Andrea,” Adagio says.
Andrea is again taken aback by their kindness, almost as much as she was the day they stopped to help her. She leans her head against the door and sighs. “I can't tell you how many times stuff like that has happened.” She looks into Cisely's eyes. “You were the first people who ever tried to help.” She opens the door wider, her eyes softening. “You can come in if you want.”
Adagio smiles, squeezing Cisely's hand. “We would like that.”
Moving aside, she lets them enter. She clears some books from the small couch and places them on a table in the corner. Gesturing for them to sit down, Andrea pulls a chair from the the desk, and sits across from them, her eyes moving around the room. “I know it's not much, but it's home.”
Cisely glances at their surroundings. “It's lovely, Andrea. It's one of the tidiest rooms I have ever seen.” A beautiful quilt covers the twin size bed. The floral and check patterns are brightly colored. It looks like the quilt is handmade. Cisely tells her how beautiful it is.
“Thanks. My grandmother made it. She died before she could finish the matching pillow covering.”
“When did she pass away?” Cisely asks with compassion.
“Last year.”
“I'm so
rry.”
“Yeah, well . . . me too.”
“Do you have any other family here?” Adagio asks.
“No,” she answers tonelessly. “My grandmother was it.”
Adagio and I glance at one another, both of us curious about her parents but not daring to ask just yet. Instead, I casually pick up a thick book lying on the coffee table. “Roots,” I murmur, opening the front cover. “I love this book.” Glancing at Andrea, I notice a slight smile tugging at her lips. “The stories of Alex Haley's ancestors are incredible,” I continue. “It's one of my favorite books.”
“It's mine, too. I would like to do that one day.” “You mean, you would like to trace your roots?” “Yeah.” Her voice is somber, despite her efforts to sound
tough. “I mean, since I have no relatives to speak of, or at least that I know of, it would be nice to find out about the dead ones. I'd like to know the kind of people I came from.”
“I can empathize. Other than my immediate family and a couple of cousins, I have no other relatives. But you probably feel completely alone. It must be hard sometimes.”
“It is,” she agrees somberly. “What about friends?” Adagio asks. “A great person like you must have many.”
When she shakes her head, I smile. “Well, you do now.”
Andrea knows nothing about these people, yet they are already working their way into her heart. They have a quiet way about them and she feels different just talking to them. And maybe knowing them will give her a reason to want to stick around in this life a bit longer. Yeah, that will be the test. She shakes her head slightly, not able to believe what she is about to say.
“I would like to be friends.”
One hundred-three
I lay awake listening to the sound of Adagio's deep breathing, unable to turn my thoughts off enough to sleep. The whole evening keeps replaying itself over and over again in my mind. It has been one of the most amazing days we have had here so far.
Andrea Gaston was like a sponge, soaking in our every word. Each thing we shared about ourselves and our family was met with questions. And when we answered those, she bombarded us with even more questions. I have never seen such a desire, such a thirst for an emotional connection in anyone before. I could see her slowly internalizing everything just by looking at her face. By the end of the evening she didn't look like the same girl anymore. The anger that once permanently creased her brow had literally disappeared. And when she smiled, her face seemed to transform, making her absolutely beautiful. I know now what made her beautiful. It was the knowledge that someone truly cared about her, and knowing she will never be alone in the world again.
Two hours later we finally left, offering to take her to dinner tomorrow evening. Adagio and I talked about Andrea all the way home, neither of us able to believe all that happened. Not only did we make a new friend, we also managed to get her to open up more about herself. Andrea talked with us about growing up with her grandmother. She shared her feelings about her parents and the abandonment she still feels most of the time.
I brush a tear away as I remember Andrea's words to us before we left. She told us that we had literally saved her life, because she had seriously been contemplating suicide. She had been miserable for a long time and had had her fill of life. She said if we hadn't stopped to help her that day in the mall, she wouldn't have given us the time of day, much less let us in her room. We tearfully embraced her and told her how special she is, and how glad we are to be her friends.
When I sniffle, Adagio turns to his side, facing me. “Are you all right, amore?” he asks sleepily.
“I'm fine. Just thinking about tonight.”
He opens his arms and I move into them. “It was pretty
amazing, wasn't it?” I nod, resting my head against his shoulder. “I think leaving the bed and breakfast at the same time Andrea was arriving home is one of those 'God moves in mysterious ways' moments.”
He pressed his face into my hair. “I think you are right. I am very grateful for those moments.”
“So am I.” I yawn. “I'm sorry I woke you up.”
“It's all right.”
Closing my eyes, I snuggle close, my final thought of the night being a prayer of gratitude to God for placing us in Andrea's life at the right time.
Andrea sniffles and wipes her eyes.
Getting into bed, she turns out the light and lay awake for awhile, thinking about Cisely and Adagio and how special they made her feel. For the first time in her life, she feels important, like she is here for a reason and her life isn't a total waste. She can't believe how much has changed, how she has changed. For the past year there has been no hope. Now her heart is filled with it, and she wonders how it happened so quickly. How can she be so happy when just this morning she had been shrouded in despair?
She doesn't have an answer. But she loves the feeling and never wants it to go away.
Adagio and Cisely pick Andrea up and take her to dinner. The evening is full of warm conversation. She is again full of questions, which they happily answer. They make plans to treat her to brunch in a few days.
Andrea gets up early on Saturday to get ready, wanting to look nice. After showering, she puts on a white blouse and the only dress slacks she owns. They are a pair of black slacks she'd bought to wear to her grandmother's graveside service. She likes them because they make her look thinner. She pairs the pants with black dress pumps. She leaves her wavy hair down to fall just past her shoulders. Since she has never owned any makeup, she'd made a trip to the dollar store yesterday and purchased some blush, mascara, and lip gloss. Smiling, she applies the cosmetics with care.
When Andrea answers the door, Cisely immediately tells her how lovely she looks and Adagio echoes her sentiments. Andrea blushes deeply and thanks them, feeling beautiful for the first time in her life.
They enjoy a leisurely brunch at one of the nicest restaurants Andrea has even been in, and she does her best to take everything in, unable to believe she is really there. She smiles at Cisely and Adagio throughout the meal, feeling renewed gratitude to have them in her life.
One hundred-four
It has been two weeks since meeting Cisely and Adagio, and Andrea still marvels at the changes in her life. She has never known such peace. Before meeting them, she truly didn't think she had much to live for. Now, not only does she have a life, she loves life. And she is being blessed beyond belief.
One of those blessings has been a new job. A man who recently moved into the apartment building next to her rooming house owns a small car dealership and had been in need of a receptionist. Andrea applied for the job, using Adagio and Cisely as references. Fortunately they happen to be visiting Andrea when he stopped by to talk with her about the job and were able to meet him. The four were instantly taken with one another.
Andrea enjoys her new job and really likes working for Mr. Cole, or Jacob as he likes to be called. Getting to know the older black man, she finds she has a great deal in common with him. Jacob had been raised by a single mother who died five years ago at the age of eighty-three. He never knew his father because the man had been married when he had an affair with Jacob's mother. Jacob says he holds nothing against the father he never knew because he's made mistakes in his own life. A couple of times Andrea, along with Cisely and Adagio, have dinner at Jacob's home. Since he lives alone and has no family, he enjoys having them over.
Cisely suspects Jacob is lonely a lot of the time. She and Adagio feel a great deal of empathy for him and stop by the car dealership to see him whenever they can. They also visit Andrea while they're there. Cisely is happy to see the bond forming between Andrea and Jacob. They have both been alone in the world, so the friendship is very important to them.
We spend our final week in Winston Salem visiting a few friends we've made and saying our goodbyes. While we will miss everyone, we will miss Andrea and Jacob most of all. They will always have a special place in our heart.
Phillip calls us a couple o
f times during the week. We've missed him greatly and eagerly anticipate seeing him again. He fills us in on the rest of the family and how things are going at the restaurant. He tells us how well our grandson, young Adagio, is mastering his grandfather's recipes, and he is now cooking at the restaurant once a week.
Adagio tells Phillip how proud he is of them both for running the place so well.
We long to see our family again and look forward to the day when we are reunited.
Two days before we are scheduled to leave for Italy, we stop by Andrea's place and catch her in the middle of doing some genealogy. She has been gathering all the information she can get her hands on during the past week. She has copies of birth and death certificate and is beginning to piece everything together. She is excited about some of her findings and has been anxious to share them with us.
“Oh, Cisely,” she says as we sit around the table, “I can't tell you how good it feels to finally know something about my family.”
I smile. “We're so happy for you.” “And proud,” Adagio adds. “Okay, show us what you have so far.”
“All right.” Andrea unrolls the pedigree chart.
Adagio takes his glasses from his pocket. He puts them on and bends a little closer as she points out all the names on the chart and tells us what she knows about them. We both notice the blank spot where her father should have been listed.
“Why do you not have your father's name written here?” Adagio asks.
Andrea looks up and sighs. “Because I don't know my biological father's name.” When my puzzled expression joins Adagio's, Andrea says, “Darren Gaston wasn't really my father. My mother just picked his name to put on my birth certificate. My grandmother told me that my mother was rather messed up. She didn't want me to one day go looking for my real father, so she used one of her many boyfriends' names.” She pushes the hair back from her face. “Grandmother never knew my father. She only knew what my mother told her about him.”
