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Chapter 21

Ruben

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mom!” I was already dressed and ready to leave for work when I called my parents.

“Happy Thanksgiving! How nice of you to call! I thought we wouldn’t hear from you for the next few days.”

“I’m on my way out, Mom, but I have a few minutes.”

“Always busy. Now you’re not only on the same continent as us, but practically around the corner, and yet we don’t see each other. It’s a shame.”

I struggled to suppress a sigh. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Don’t be,” she interrupted me. “I wasn’t referring to you or your work. We checked your hotel’s website and the other hotels in the area. It’s expensive, and since you have to work anyway, we thought . . . you understand?”

My guilty conscience immediately gnawed at me again. As often when it came to my life and my work. My parents’ understanding often didn’t make it any better. On the contrary. The more explanations they found for why we couldn’t see each other, the worse I felt.

“Of course I understand, Mom. It’s only one day that we can make up for. I’ll come by as soon as the season comes to an end and I have a few real days off in a row. Save your money. And when I’m home, I’ll take you out.”

“Nonsense, Ruben. Keep your money. You work hard for it. We’ll be happy to see you next time, no matter where you end up.”

Now I sighed audibly. What I wanted to discuss with my parents wasn’t made any easier by the next topic I brought up. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

Sometimes I felt like I was still ten years old.

“Maybe we’ll see each other more often in the near future. I’ll probably stay nearby for now.”

“Near where?” my mother wanted to know immediately. A legitimate question.

“Near Ocean View.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t interpret the sound my mother made. Joy, surprise, disappointment, a mix of everything?

“The year off is good for me. And I’m learning what I want to do with my education.”

“And what would that be?” She still sounded skeptical.

“I want to be my own boss. I also want to produce high-quality food, but not at the price of the stress of a Michelin-star kitchen.” I closed my eyes and swallowed. For years, I had talked about nothing else but wanting to work and learn in a Michelin-star kitchen that I could earn at least one star myself later on.

“I know this must sound crazy to you. All my dreams. My studies. All the money. Everything you sacrificed for me. The time spent on junior cooking competitions, all the speeches I gave you, the . . . ”

“Ruben!” my mother interrupted me.

I had worked myself into complete rage.

“Honey, we’re proud of you, whatever you do. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision for yourself, whatever you decide to do.”

“You’re not disappointed?” I stared ahead at a loss.

“Why would we be disappointed?” my mom asked.

I shook my head helplessly. “You’re great parents. You’ve supported every one of my plans. I thought that’s what you wanted for me.”

“Oh, Ruben.” Now it was my mother who was silent. “You know, of course we support you. But above all, we were careful not to say anything that would make you doubt yourself. I realize that you are grateful to us. And I sometimes worry that you feel guilty about following your dreams because your father and I are still stuck in Ocean View.”

Wow. That summed it up nicely.