My Life Is A Lie

I’m Gemma Lucci and I’ve almost completed another day of my boring, teenage life in high school. Government is the last class of the day. The whole class is slumped in our seats, blankly staring at the clock. Our teacher even looked sleepy as we finished watching an old video about different government departments. Boring! Finally the bell rang and it's the weekend.

Ms. Patterson, our school counselor, was waiting outside the classroom door. Gemma, hold on just a moment, I need to speak to you. She asked my Government teacher if she could use his classroom for a few minutes.

He nodded, waved goodbye and was out the door.

I had no idea what she needed to talk to me about.

Gemma, I just received a phone call that I need to discuss with you. She softly continued. The call was from a relative of yours in Italy.

I arched my eyebrows. I wasn’t aware of any Italian relatives. I could feel all the color leave my face.

Let’s go back to the beginning. At least to the beginning as I knew it. I know that my father and mother were both born in Italy. Unfortunately, I only have a limited amount of knowledge about them. My foster parents told me when they felt I was old enough, that my mother had died in a car accident when I was only two years old. A caseworker had also explained that shortly after my mother’s death, that my father had supposedly dropped me off at a children’s home and was never heard from again. That’s when Walter and Maggie Fallbridge, had taken me in as their foster daughter. I’ve spent years hurt and angry at my father after hearing this news. Graziella Lucci, my mother, died when she was only 23 years old. I was told that I had also been in the car when it was struck on the driver's side by a heavy truck. She was killed instantly but, luckily I only had a few cuts on my hand and a small cut on my cheek from flying glass chips. Mother had tightly secured me in a safety seat.

My father had been on a business trip and it had taken several days to notify him about the tragedy. At this time, we lived in Phoenix Arizona. I have no photos or any personal items from our lives then.

My father, Anthony Lucci, was 26 at the time of the accident. For some reason, he dropped me off at the children’s homeand he was never heard from again. The only thing I knew was what my foster parents were told by the house mother at the orphanage. My father had seemed very distraught and said he had to leave to handle some business.

Back to the present, still at school, Ms. Patterson took a deep breath and told me that my mother is still alive!

I grabbed my throat because I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Just breathe Gemma, deep breaths. That’s it, slow and easy. I’m sorry to be so blunt with this news but I couldn’t think of an easier way to tell you.

She’s alive? I managed to get out in a raspy voice and tears rolled down my face. Where is she…when can I see her.. how?

Calm down sweetheart. I’m working out those details with her caretaker now. I’ll call Mrs. Fallbridge and explain what’s going on and that I’ll come by in the morning after I hope to gather more information.

Ms. Patterson gave me a thumbs up as I turned to leave for home.

I only lived about 3 blocks from my school so it didn’t take but just a few minutes to get home. Mrs. Fallbridge met me at the door. She gently pulled me inside and lifted my backpack off my shoulders.

Come dear, let’s sit and I’ll get you a Cola so we can relax and talk about this wonderful news. At the little kitchen table, I plopped into the nearest chair. My mind was reeling with so many questions. Mrs. Fallbridge sat in a chair opposite me and handed me the bottle and I took several gulps of the cold, fizzy drink. She patiently waited for me to speak. I told her everything I knew about the phone call that Ms. Patterson had received earlier this afternoon. She quietly listened, asking only a few questions. We sat there discussing what this news could bring for my future. After la quiet dinner, we were both emotionally drained. I took a hot shower to relax and went to bed.

I woke up early. Just as I finished dressing, I heard the doorbell.

Mrs. Fallbridge and Ms. Patterson were already seated by the time I made it downstairs. I sat on the sofa by Mrs. Fallbridge.

Good morning Gemma she said as she handed me a folder.

I opened the folder and took out some papers containing information that she had obtained after speaking with my mother’s caretaker again this morning. My mothers had hired a private investigator to find me. It had taken him a year. She explained that my mother still had some mobility issues but was improving. Her new doctor advised her not to travel at this time. This doctor had changed her medication and hired a new physical therapist. She was progressing nicely with these changes to her recovery plan.

Ms. Patterson took my hand and broke unexpected news. My father had also been located and lives in New Jersey. She handed me a card that had his name, address and telephone number on it. She had not contacted him and let that up to me

What? I told her that I’m unclear about my feelings with the news regarding my father.

Ms. Patterson concluded that this was all she had for me at this time, but would let me know if she heard anything else.

As she stood to leave, she told me to give this all some time. I had been overwhelmed and I had plenty to think through.

I just nodded as I thanked her for collecting all of this information. When the door closed I began shedding tears of joy or possibly fear.

Mrs. Fallbridge comforted me. This is so much for you to take in all at once. I’m here for you.

In a way, curiosity made me want to contact my father, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I wanted to confront him face to face to unleash my anger or just let him know how hurt I’ve been all of these years. That afternoon, I told Mrs. Fallbridge that I had decided to travel to New Jersey to meet my father. I was clueless about what I was going to say or how I would handle things. He might even refuse to see me. Then of course, my biggest issue was how to get money for the trip. I had saved about $600 from my babysitting money but I knew that small amount wasn't even close to what I’d need.

Mrs. Falbridge shushed me while giving me a warm hug. She told me she would take care of it. Her husband Walter had died 10 years ago from a sudden heart attack and she explained that he had set up a college fund for their son David, right after he was born. Sadly, David had passed away from leukemia when he was only six years old. She went on to explain that Walter was so heartbroken that he couldn’t bear the thought of closing the account. He told her someday they would find someone that could put the money to good use. Walter had died before they could find that use.

She gave me a little wink then said that she thought of me as her real daughter and wanted to help me resolve the situation with my parents. She knew that with the ongoing monthly deposits, plus the interest, accumulated for all of these years that there would be enough money to get me started.

I immediately objected and told her no there was no way I could take that money that she and Walter had saved.

She again reminded me that Walter said he wanted someone that could use the money and she felt like there couldn’t be any better purpose than helping me.

I once again tried to protest, but she insisted that I take the money because helping me would make her and Walter so happy.

Monday morning. She and I went to the bank, opened an account, and I got my first debit card. She transferred all of the money from the college fund to my new card. I was speechless when I found out the amount in that account was $98,000. This money was more than I had ever imagined and I promised to repay her somehow.

She said there was no need to repay her. This was her gift to me.

I called Ms. Patterson to see if she could arrange for me to finish the last six weeks of school online? I explained my trip to New Jersey. She said she’d set it up .

We went to get me an official state ID. I only had a school ID and needed a more substantial form of identification for the airlines.

Mrs. Fallbridge had all the documents from the foster care system. At home, Mrs. Fallbridge went online and made airline and hotel reservations for me. The hotel appeared to be fairly close to my Father’s address. Also, she obtained a notarized permission letter from Child Protective Services that would allow me to travel alone since I was still a minor.

At the airport, I admitted being very excited and a little nervous. I waved goodbye after going through security. My takeoff and flight went smoothly. Before I knew it, we were landing at the airport in Newark, New Jersey.

I found a taxi and gave the driver the address of my hotel. I enjoyed taking in all the sights and we seemed to arrive at the hotel quickly. At the entrance, a young man in a uniform welcomed me to the hotel and took my bags. He escorted me to the front desk and then carried my luggage to my room.

My name is Patrick, if you need anything, just let him know. I thanked him.

I decided to order dinner from room service mainly because I was just adjusting to being in my new surroundings.

My cheeseburger, fries and cola arrived on a rolling cart. There was a newspaper rolled up by the side of my plate. At the little table by the window I devoured my food. Then I decided to browse through the newspaper. I flipped through the pages looking at a variety of articles, sales ads and public notices then I saw an announcement where a name in bold letters caught my eye. It read that the wedding for Anthony Lucci and Marjorie Sinclair was to be held at Bethany Square Chapel. I nearly fell off my chair when I realized the wedding was tomorrow at 7:00PM. I made a screenshot of the location.

My mind was reeling and suddenly I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going to the wedding. What better place for me to reintroduce myself to my father.

Early the next morning I dressed casually. I went through the clothes I had brought with me. I decided that the simple royal blue dress and a nice pair of black leather flats would be perfect. My hair was another story. A ponytail or braid had been my go to hairdo for years. I ran into Patrick as I was leaving the hotel. I asked him if he knew of a hair salon nearby.

He said as a matter of fact, I have a friend that works in a salon about four blocks down. Her name is Jeanetta and I’ll call her so she’ll know you’re coming.

I thanked him for the information and headed in the direction he pointed. I spotted a pretty pink and white striped awning that Patrick had said to watch for. I was greeted inside by Jeanetta.

You must be Gemma. Patrick told me to expect you. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jeanetta. She pointed to the styling chair in her section, I took a seat and she wrapped a cape around my shoulders and adjusted the chair height and I removed the band holding my ponytail.

What do you have in mind?

I shrugged my shoulders and told her I had no idea that I hadn’t really done anything with my hair for a while now.

She asked me if I would trust her to give me a mini makeover with hair and light makeup?

I agreed and watched as she worked her magic. She finished my haircut and started applying my makeup. When she had finished, I barely recognized myself. I looked beautiful.

Back at the hotel, Patrick was at the door and gave me a thumbs up as I walked in. I felt like I had matured a few years with just this makeover. Time to get ready for the big event. I changed into my blue dress and then I stood in front of the mirror. The girl I was looking at looked amazing, it was me.

Downstairs, Patrick hailed me a cab.

There was a traffic jam. It seemed like forever just waiting. Finally we started moving and arrived in just a few minutes. After paying the driver, I scrambled to the chapel doors, I was 10 minutes late. Once inside, I heard the minister asking the big question, do you, Anthony Lucci, take this woman Marjorie Sinclair…... Before he could answer I ran down the aisle, screaming STOP! The entire chapel full of guests turned and watched me, clearly shocked.

My father and Marjorie turned looking mortified. I reached them and breathlessly exclaimed, I’m your daughter, I’m Gemma!

My father looked at me, eyes questioning who I was and unsure of what he had just heard and Marjorie fainted. He stepped down a step and stood in front of me as a woman jumped to check on Marjorie.

What? You can’t be, who, who are you?

I repeated, I’m your daughter. I’m Gemma, the little girl you abandoned after my mother was killed. He reached over and touched my shoulder. I jerked back. Don’t touch me. You abandoned me. You cannot imagine the feelings I’ve suffered all of these years, wondering why you left me alone.

The minister stepped forward. I believe you two need to talk privately. We both looked up at him and nodded yes. He led us to a little office nearby. We went inside and he closed the door.

My father said Gemma, I can’t believe it’s really you.

I said, Why? Did you think you’d gotten rid of me forever?

He grimaced as he sensed my pain. Let me explain, he attempted again.

I raised my chin defiantly and announced, by the way, mother is alive. He took a sharp breath but didn’t interrupt. She's in Italy.

My school counselor got a call from her caretaker. My tears finally flowed. He touched my shoulder again. This time I didn’t pull away.

He whispered, oh Gemma, we have so much to talk about. I didn’t abandon you.

I glared at him and said, yes you did!

He said no, that’s not what happened. I left you intending for it to be temporary, no more than two weeks. I went to New Jersey and was trying to make transportation and funeral arrangements to get Graziella's body back here. A bunch of out of state red tape delayed me.

I contacted the children’s home and the CPS agency. They refused to release any information to me without a court order. After searching for so many months, I ran out of options. A police officer that I had spoken to called me. He had found a funeral home in Arizona that confirmed a woman fitting your mothers description had been cremated. She had no ID and their records showed that her ashes had been placed in an unclaimed, multiperson grave. I was devastated. I could only hope that at some point you would search for me.

Why should I believe you? I whispered.

Gemma, I promise I tried everything. I know it’s hard for you to understand. I’ve thought about you everyday and I hoped you had been placed in a loving home. Please tell me what you know.

I could see he was visibly upset as he sobbed into a handkerchief he from his suit pocket. I started to feel sorry for him. I told him what I knew. She's in Italy being looked after by her cousin and while still a doctors care and she’s getting physical therapy. She’s improving but can’t travel yet.

I then announced, I’m going to go to Italy.

My father seemed unsurprised and said he was going with me. He wanted to see my mother and explain everything. He told me he would help me get a passport.

I was exhausted from all of the emotional ups and downs. I could see he was too. I told him the name of my hotel, as he drove me there, he said after tonight, he wanted me to move into his home, at least until we figured things out. He said he’d pick me up in the morning.

I asked, what about that woman waiting for him in the chapel?

He gave a little laugh and said, I’ll handle Marjorie. I’ll tell her what’s going on and we’ll just go from there. She'll understand that I have to see your mother and get you there safely.

My life changed drastically after things I had been told were so untrue.