gone to culinary school rather than college, but my parents told me that I wouldn't enjoy a life as a chef and that studying nutrition at the university would be the same thing, only more fulfilling.
At the time, I thought they might be right, but the longer I was in school the more I realized that I had settled for studying food and its nutritional value, which wasn't nearly as fun as cooking it.
My parents weren’t trying to doom me to a bad life, but neither of them cared about food, and they didn't get the appeal of standing over a hot stove to prepare it. They didn't let me get in the kitchen much growing up. My mom had always cared more about keeping the house neat and tidy rather than cooking. We usually ate with my grandparents or got take out. Once a week or so, my mom would cook something, but it was always a dish with two or three ingredients, like spaghetti or hamburger helper. My dad ate eggs a lot, and he would cook those, but they honestly didn't care enough about eating food to keep quality ingredients in the house. There was a lot of ramen and frozen dinners.
I did more cooking at Maggie's house than at my own. I had a part-time job at the bookstore on campus, but I wasn't working enough to spend money on the types of food I wanted to cook.
"Now the truth comes out," she said. "You want to go over there so you can cook." Maggie smiled at me like she had me all figured out.
"No, no, it's not just that. I am curious about their restaurant, but who wouldn't be? Helen said it's a successful seafood restaurant, right on the water. She said it's one of the most popular places in Galveston. Michael might inherit it one day with his sister, if he could ever get his life on track. Anyway, she said cooking was in my blood. Can you believe it? You know how I love to cook."
"Tons of people love to cook," Maggie said. "Most people love to cook."
"That's not true. And it's not the only reason I want to go over there. You should have seen that picture of her son. You wouldn't believe the resemblance. And she doesn't want anything from me," I added. "If she was asking me for something, or I got the impression that she was going to take advantage of me, I wouldn't even talk to her. But she doesn't want anything from me. She wants to give me stuff. She gave me a thousand dollars before we left Denny's."
"A thousand dollars?"
"Yes."
"And you took it?"
"Yes," I said.
"You're joking."
"I’m not joking."
"You didn't tell me she gave you money. A thousand dollars? Are you serious?"
"Yes," I said.
"Why are we not at the mall?"
I smiled and shrugged. "She said it was for missed birthdays and Christmases. I didn't want to take anything from her, but she insisted.
"A thousand dollars is a lot of money," Maggie said. "That might be sketchy."
"She's not sketchy. She's just an old lady who misses her son. There was a girl who drove him out of Galveston. She and her family. You know, relationship drama. Michael got devastated years ago and Mrs. Elliott never sees him. He hasn't talked to his dad in like twenty years."
"I don't know what to tell you," Maggie said shrugging. "It's both cool and freaky that she gave you a thousand bucks. What are you going to do with it?"
"I don't know," I said, "Maybe save it. I'll probably just save it."
"Does your mom know?"
"No way."
"You should tell her. Just ask your mom if she even knew a guy named Michael back then."
"No, Maggie. I'm not telling her. If what the lady said is true, then my mom kept it from me all these years."
"Well, then maybe it's not true," Maggie said.
"What if it is?" I asked.
She shrugged. "It seems like your mind is made up about going."
"It is," I said nodding. "I'm going down there, just for the day. Jennifer lives there now. I'll call her and go by to see her at her work so I don't have to lie to my mom."
"Are you talking about Jennifer from the BCM?" Maggie asked. We knew Jennifer Meyers from a student organization at UH. Maggie and I had only known each other since college, but we had become really close in the last few years. She was the one who had introduced