The Vanderbeekers Make a Wish

by Karina Yan Glaser

  “There’s a nice pizza place right around the entrance on the Brooklyn side,” he said.

  “Patsy’s Pizzeria?” Jessie said. “We’ve been there before.”

  “No, there’s another place, a little hole in the wall called Brazo’s Pizzeria. My friend owns it. He mills his own flour in the basement, and there’s a wood-burning oven that makes the best crust. It’s on the corner of Bridge and Johnson Streets.”

  “We will go there,” Grandma assured him. “Isa, write it down.”

  Isa typed the name and location into her phone. “Where did you get your tattoo?” Oliver asked innocently.

  The man pulled his wallet from his back pocket, retrieved a business card, and handed it to Oliver. “This is my buddy’s tattoo parlor. It’s in the West Village. Tell him Silver sent you.”

  “Whoa, thanks,” Oliver said, cradling the business card like a newborn bird.

  “Your name is Silver?” Laney said.

  The man nodded.

  “I wish my name was Silver,” Laney said wistfully.

  “Well, this is my stop,” Silver said. “Nice to meet you all. Don’t forget—Brazo’s Pizzeria!” The crowd parted so he could get to the exit.

  “Thank you,” Grandma called again. She turned to the Vanderbeekers. “That is a nice gentleman.”

  “I can’t believe he gave me this card,” Oliver said.

  Grandma turned her eyes on Oliver. “No tattoos, Oliver.” She held her hand out, wiggling her fingers for the business card.

  “You just said Silver was a nice gentleman!” Oliver protested.

  “That does not mean you must get a snake tattoo,” Grandma said, her fingers still wiggling.

  “Life is so unfair,” Oliver said with a huff, giving up the card.

  “Hey!” said another passenger, poking Grandpa’s shoulder. “Want to sit down? There’s an open seat.”

  Grandpa nodded and made his way to the open seat, the passenger taking his arm for balance on the bouncy subway. Slowly, more people started standing up so Aunt Penny and the Vanderbeeker kids could sit down. Even when Isa said she was fine standing, a woman wearing a white suit and three-inch heels insisted that she take her seat.

  “New Yorkers are very nice,” Grandma said, looking around at the assortment of people, some snoozing, some listening to their headphones, and others reading to pass the commute time. They were young and old, with long straight hair and dreadlocks and perms, in clothes that were mostly black but with a handful of people wearing color as well. The subway rumbled its way through the pulsing, churning city, under skyscrapers and streets bustling with pedestrians and dogs getting their walks and babies being pushed in strollers.

  “I think you like the subway,” Laney told Grandma.

  Grandma didn’t respond, but Jessie thought she saw the beginnings of a smile playing on her lips when their eyes met.

  * * *

  Of all the Vanderbeeker kids, Hyacinth liked crowds the least. Sometimes people were surprised to hear that Hyacinth loved living in Harlem, since New York City was one of the largest cities in the world. But each individual neighborhood was different, and 141st Street was relatively peaceful compared to other parts of New York City.

  The Brooklyn Bridge in the middle of a beautiful Sunday afternoon?

  Not so peaceful.

  Hyacinth was glad to sit next to Aunt Penny on the ride down to Brooklyn. Grandma seemed a little friendlier since falling into the lap of the tattooed man, but Grandpa was as silent as the moon. Even though Hyacinth herself was quiet, she preferred to be around people who talked a lot. That meant she could listen, which made her happy.

  When they finally got to their stop, Hyacinth made sure to stay near Aunt Penny so she wouldn’t be stuck walking with Grandma or Grandpa. Isa led the way to the pizza place that Silver had recommended, Brazo’s Pizzeria. Since it was the middle of the afternoon and after the lunch rush, there wasn’t much of a crowd, which was good because the place was tiny and their group took up half the seats in the restaurant.

  Hyacinth breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to snag the chair farthest away from her grandparents. She swallowed a feeling of guilt over the fact that she didn’t enjoy being around them. These thoughts quickly disappeared with the chaos of ordering enough pizza for eight people with a variety of opinions about toppings. Finally, they settled on two large pies, one that was all cheese and the other one half spinach and artichoke and half pineapple and tomatoes (Laney’s favorite).

  Hyacinth helped Isa pour water from big pitchers that someone brought to their table, and by the time they had mopped up the large glass of ice water Laney knocked over, the pizzas had arrived. Hot from the wood-burning oven and still steaming, the pizzas had beautiful golden crusts that were slightly charred in spots. The group dug in, hungry from their busy day, and it wasn’t long before everyone was happy and full.

  The owner came out of the kitchen, his apron smeared with sauce and his arms smudged with flour.

  “Good?” he inquired as he observed the empty metal pans.

  “Yes!” they all chorused.

  “A guy on the subway told us about you,” Laney informed him. “His name is Silver.”

  The owner laughed. “Silver is one of my best friends. He’s here at least twice a week, and he’s always sending new customers our way.”

  “We’re going to tell everyone we know about this place,” Laney said.

  “Thank you,” he said to her. “And for that, you get this”—he pulled a disposable paper hat from his apron pocket, opened it up, and put it on her head—“and this.” He went to a display of red T-shirts that said “Brazo’s Pizzeria: A Pie to Die For,” plucked a kid’s-sized one, and handed it to her.

  “Wow, thank you!” Laney said, and promptly put it on over her dress.

  He smiled. “Free advertising!”

  Aunt Penny insisted on paying for lunch, and while she did, the Vanderbeekers got their stuff together and used the restroom. That was why no one but Hyacinth noticed that Grandpa had quietly snuck out the door. She tried to follow him, but she was in a seat on the far side of the table against the wall, and she had to climb over Laney tying her sneakers in order to make it to the front door.

  By the time she got there, Grandpa had disappeared.

  Sixteen

  As usual, Isa did a head count upon leaving the pizzeria.

  “One, two, three four, five, six, seven, eight . . . ,” Isa counted, looking at their group. “Wait, who are we missing?”

  Hyacinth spoke up immediately. “Grandpa. I saw him leave when Aunt Penny was paying for lunch.”

  “He just . . . left?” Aunt Penny asked.

  “That’s what it looked like,” Hyacinth said. “But by the time I got to the door, he had disappeared.”

  Everyone looked at Grandma. She shrugged. “He disappears sometimes. But he always comes back.”

  “I promised Mama I wouldn’t lose anyone,” said Isa, who had texted Mama before getting on the subway. It was one thing to be lost in Harlem, where they knew so many people, but Brooklyn was an entirely different issue. She imagined telling Mama that they had lost Grandpa and all they knew was that he was somewhere in Brooklyn.

  “I wish he carried a cell phone,” Jessie said.

  “Even if he had one, he wouldn’t know how to use it,” Grandma said.

  “We should split up and look for him,” Isa said.

  “Great idea,” Aunt Penny said.

  They split into two groups: Isa, Grandma, Hyacinth, and Laney would look for Grandpa around the pizzeria, while Jessie, Aunt Penny, and Oliver would trace their steps back to the subway.

  “I hope he didn’t go back to the subway,” Jessie said, urging Aunt Penny and Oliver to run with her. “He’ll be lost forever.”

  Isa was worried. There were so many places Grandpa could be. She popped her head back into Brazo’s Pizzeria to give them her number and ask them to call if Grandpa showed up. They walked toward the entra
nce to the Brooklyn Bridge. They passed huge offices and residential buildings alongside smaller stores, pharmacies, and a little doughnut shop that Laney was very interested in. They passed dads with babies strapped to their chests and families with kids wearing day camp T-shirts and couples jogging together and friends carrying paper cups of coffee and chatting. But no Grandpa.

  Isa took her phone and sent a note to Jessie. “Any Grandpa sightings?” she wrote.

  The answer was instant. “No.”

  “Isa!” Laney yelled, pointing toward the entrance to the bridge. “I see him! He’s over there!”

  Isa squinted at the man Laney was pointing at. “That’s just someone who looks like Grandpa,” Isa said. “That guy is renting bikes to tourists who want to ride across the bridge.”

  But Laney was already off and running.

  * * *

  Laney ran right up to Grandpa. He was surrounded by bikes.

  “Are you helping that man rent bikes?” Laney asked, pointing at the racks and racks of bikes in front of a big sign that said “Bike the Brooklyn Bridge! Pick up here, drop off on the Manhattan side!”

  Grandpa shook his head. “These are for us.”

  Laney glanced at the bikes, saw that there were eight set apart from the others, then looked at her grandpa. She was so surprised and happy that she hugged him around the waist. “This is the best!”

  Grandpa was stiff for a moment but soon relaxed into the hug and patted Laney awkwardly on the head. She was so excited about the biking that she didn’t mind the head pat.

  “Wow, Grandpa,” Isa said. “Did you rent bikes for all of us? That’s awesome, but hey, can you let us know ahead of time if you’re going to disappear?”

  Isa pulled out her phone and texted Jessie. “Found Grandpa. Meet us at the bridge entrance.”

  “I’m glad we found him,” Grandma said when she reached them. “One time he left the house, got on the wrong bus, and ended up three hours away in a different state.”

  “Ooh, tell us that story, Grandma,” Laney said.

  Jessie’s voice came from down the street. “Hey! You found him!” She was jogging toward them with Oliver and Aunt Penny right behind her.

  “Wow, bikes. Cool,” Oliver said when he arrived and surveyed the scene. “You just made Laney’s entire year.”

  “Grandma was about to tell us a story of when Grandpa got lost. Like, really lost. Not just disappearing to rent us all bikes,” Laney said.

  “Later,” Grandma said before gracefully hopping onto a bike.

  There was only one bike that Laney would be able to ride, and it was literally her dream bike—almost exactly the bike from the picture she had taped to her bedroom door. The bike was red with sparkly silver streamers coming out of the handlebars, and the seat was made of soft red leather. A wicker basket was attached to the front. She ran to it and jumped on. It wasn’t too small or too big—it was just right for her.

  “Put on the helmet!” Isa hollered.

  Laney strapped on the helmet—it too was red, with black polka dots, and looked like a ladybug—and put her feet on the pedals. After wobbling for a few seconds, she did a few laps around the fountain in the park. Her knees weren’t even close to hitting the handlebars!

  “This is the best bike ever!” she yelled as she went by, her hair blowing back in the wind. She felt like she was flying! After seven laps around the fountain, she headed back to Grandpa and braked to a stop a few inches away from him. She leaned over and hugged him again.

  The rest of the Vanderbeekers, Grandpa, Grandma, and Aunt Penny strapped on their helmets and mounted their bikes, and away they went. The bike lane was a lot less crowded than the pedestrian lane, and Grandpa led the way onto the path, followed by Laney, Grandma, the rest of the kids, and then Aunt Penny bringing up the rear.

  “This is awesome!” Laney yelled as they passed tourist after tourist on the walkway. Her bike had a bell on it, so whenever someone stepped over into the bike lane, she rang the bell and the pedestrian stepped back into their lane. It was like magic!

  Seeing New York City from the Brooklyn Bridge on bikes was a million times better than walking. The breeze felt good on her face, and the city skyline sparkled in the afternoon sun. She could see boats in the harbor and the orange Staten Island ferry bringing people back and forth between the Manhattan and Staten Island terminals. Behind her, she could hear faint peals of laughter from her siblings, and every so often, her grandfather would turn his head and raise his eyebrows at her, as if to say Having fun?

  She would smile back at him, hoping her smile showed how special this was. But biking was a lot faster than walking, and too soon they reached the Manhattan side of the bridge. Grandpa stopped, and Laney braked behind him. He looked at her, and then pointed back toward the Brooklyn side, as if to say Again?

  Laney didn’t think she could smile any bigger. He took that as a yes, and he gestured for her to go first this time. She turned the bike around and back they went. She saw the surprised faces of her siblings as they figured out they were going back across, but they smiled and turned their bikes toward Brooklyn.

  The view of Brooklyn was quite beautiful. As they got closer to the borough, they could peek over the bridge and get a look at the park. There was a gorgeous carousel right by the water, and as they got closer, they could see the box of glass encasing it. The wooden horses were resplendent in their majestic saddles, their heads tossed back and their tails swishing. And when they got to the Brooklyn side, they had a choice to either leave the bikes at the rental place or go back to the Manhattan side.

  Laney looked at Grandpa, and when he raised his eyebrows, she grinned and took off back toward Manhattan, just as the colors of the afternoon began to shift to evening hues and the sun cast a rosy glow over the city. And when they all rolled the bikes down the bridge and to the rental place on the Manhattan side, Laney was stopped as she tried to put her bike on the return rack.

  “That’s not our bike,” the rental employee said.

  Laney’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “You can’t leave that here. It’s not one of our bikes.”

  Laney glanced around at the other bikes that her family was leaving on the bike racks. They were scuffed and dented, with black plastic baskets in the front and stickers that said “NYC Bike Tours” slapped on the frame. The bike she had been riding was shiny and new with no stickers. She looked around for Grandpa, but she could only see his back; he was already half a block away, heading toward the subway with Isa.

  Seventeen

  It was a boisterous subway ride back to Harlem. The Vanderbeekers were reinvigorated by their bike ride across the Brooklyn Bridge. Laney had thanked Grandpa seventeen times, then spent the rest of the time showing her bike to fellow subway riders.

  Jessie hadn’t heard from Papa all day, so when the train paused at a station in lower Manhattan, she sent him a quick text. She continued to check the phone as the subway rumbled uptown. Grandma kept looking at her disapprovingly, mumbling about kids always being on their devices, but Jessie didn’t care. She wanted her dad’s name to pop up on the screen.

  When they reached their stop, Jessie helped bring Laney’s bike over the turnstile and up the subway stairs. They emerged on Lenox Avenue. It was early evening, the sky changing from the bright blue of earlier in the day to a lighter hue, as if a watercolor brush had swooped in and muted the pigment. Jessie, wondering if Mama was still at work, gave her a call.

  “Hey, Jessie,” said Mama, breathless.

  “We’re just getting out of the subway right now,” Jessie said. “I wanted to see what you were doing.”

  “Ugh, what a day,” Mama said. “I’m missing three of my best workers, and it was going to be me and Manny in the back, but he’s sick and couldn’t come in.”

  “Hey!” said another voice through the phone. “You have me, don’t you?”

  “Is that Auntie Harrigan?” Jessie asked.

  Auntie Harrigan’s
voice came through the speaker again. “I am an excellent worker, thank you very much!”

  “Auntie Harrigan did save me today,” Mama admitted.

  “And I came up with a fabulous new cookie idea,” Auntie Harrigan said.

  “I think we’ll be here for a couple more hours,” Mama told Jessie. “The bakery is a mess, and we still have to take care of the cats.”

  “We can come by and help, if you want,” Jessie said.

  “Where?” Laney said. “Is that Mama? Mama, Grandpa got me the best bike ever!”

  “Really?” Mama said through the phone.

  “Laney is not excited about her bike at all,” Jessie said dryly.

  “I want to show Mama! Let’s go to the bakery!” Laney said.

  “Mama, we’re heading over. We can help you clean up and take care of the cats so you can come home sooner,” Jessie told her while looking at her siblings. They had been listening in on the conversation and nodded.

  “That would be wonderful,” Mama said.

  “Although we are doing fine! I’m being very useful!” Auntie Harrigan said.

  See you soon, Jessie said. Love you.

  “Love you,” Mama said, and the line disconnected.

  “Off to Mama’s bakery!” Jessie said, leading the way.

  “Yay,” Aunt Penny said. “We can see Peaches and Cream again.”

  They walked north along Lenox to get to Mama’s bakery, but as they waited for the light to change at 141st Street, Grandma spoke up.

  “We are going back to your apartment,” Grandma said. “We are tired.”

  “You’re not coming?” Laney said to Grandpa. “I wanted you to be there when I show Mama my new bike!”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Jessie asked. “You can try some of the cookies Mama sells. There’s also a cappuccino machine.”

  “Mmm,” Aunt Penny said. “I would love a cappuccino right now.”

  “We do not drink cappuccino,” Grandma said. “Can you give us your keys so we can get inside?”

  “Sure,” Jessie said, digging her copy of the brownstone keys from her shorts pocket and handing them over.