Upon Arriving Home (Parts 2 & 3) by Michael VanCalbergh
"The crust is made with my 4th birthday cake, soccer in the alley behind my house, two golden retrievers, and Beastwars. The secret is a pinch of hiding homework in my desk during 1st grade."
UPON ARRING HOME, PARTS 2 & 3
2. How to Build Chicago-Style Deep Dish (Annetti’s Pizza)
The crust is made with my 4th birthday cake,
soccer in the alley behind my house, two golden
retrievers, and Beastwars. The secret is a pinch of
hiding homework in my desk during 1st grade.
That’s covered with piles of melted divorce.
Mainly made up of wondering where my mother
went and her eventual return, though my father’s
depression or their constant anger are sometimes
used. Some say this is the most important part.
Then add whichever shame I’m feeling. My usual
is kicking Jeanine’s bike until she fell to the
ground bleeding. I never go without it.
Finally, in the twist that makes this pizza unique,
you add the meetings with Ms. Snyder. Whether
from a can or fresh, it’s always unconditional
acceptance that I still work to deserve. That’s
seasoned with late night coffee at IHOP on
Mannheim, D&D until the sun came up, Lend Me
a Tenor, marching band, and the first time I read a
book all the way through.
One slice is enough. I take two.
3. The Legend of Yanni (Phoenix Restaurant)
Yanni wakes up at three on Thursdays, leaves the warmth of his family for the city he’d rather forget just to make egg lemon soup. He’s always there before the day knows it’s started and spends the first hours of its yawn stirring large vats in the kitchen. No one is allowed to see Yanni work. It’s said that he won’t make it more than once a week because good things don’t happen more often than that. Once, a manager tried to count the eggs that went missing but due to arithmetic or conspiracy always found a different number. The guy quit after two months but comes in every week for a quart to take home. To experience the soup is enough.
After the workday he doesn’t note, Yanni comes in to eat what he’s created. He waits until someone takes the counter seat next to his then taps the bottom of his bowl with the spoon. When he has their attention, he confesses:
There are no secrets.
It’s a gift from my yia-yia.
I make it for her.
MICHAEL VANCALBERGH’s work has appeared in or is forthcoming from The Golgonooza Collective, Last Leaves Magazine, Puerto del sol, and many others. He is an editor at SRPR and writes essays on books, reading, and writing on his website Widely Read.
