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“YOU DON'T THINK THE student is your customer?” Donnie asked, as if such a thought had never occurred to him.
I indicated a delivery truck in the parking lot.
"No more than Palila Ranch thinks their cattle are their customers."
“Interesting way to look at it,” he said. "So who is?"
"You are."
"I mean who's your customer."
"You. Employers. You’re the one who’s going to hire them. You want us to send you a pack of illiterate dunderheads?”
Donnie laughed. “I can find all the...what did you call them? Illiterate dunderheads I need on my own, thanks. Molly, this history thing sounds like it’s above your pay grade. You said they’ve already made up their minds, right? You shouldn’t stress out about it.”
Donnie had started working right out of high school and had built Donnie’s Drive-Inn without the benefit of any formal higher education. Things like general education requirements don’t mean much to him. Even the relentless dastardliness of the Student Retention Office seems to strike him as amusing. He doesn’t see the cracks spreading in the very foundation of civilization, the way I do.
“I watched our university lose a multimillion dollar donation,” I said.
Now I had his attention.
“You know Skip Kojima?” I asked.
“Kojima Surfwear? Yeah. Met him a few times. He’s a good guy.”
“One of our students told him he was such an inspiration to her that she wanted to start her own clothing line. Called Tokyo Rose.”
Donnie raised his eyebrows.
“And not to be hip and edgy so she could sell it in some store on Melrose or anything like that,” I added.
“Some store where?”
“In Hollywood,” I said. “Not really the point. The point is, she actually thought it was a good name for a brand because it sounded pretty. She said this to a man whose father fought in the four hundred forty-second.”
“Not good,” Donnie agreed.
“You know what else she said? She said she thought Japanese tourists would like it.”
“Maybe your history requirement isn’t working too well to begin with.”
“Touché,” I sighed. “Actually, the student I’m talking about was a history major. Not only that, I found out there already is a Tokyo Rose label. So if she had simply taken a few minutes to do a quick search beforehand—sorry. I didn’t mean to dominate the conversation with shop talk. You know, the history department should’ve seen this coming. The Student Retention Office told them to cut down their writing requirements and they refused. They should’ve played ball like—anyway. I’m really done now. What’s new with you?”
“I’ve been collecting recipes, believe it or not.”
“To sell at the Drive-Inn?” I asked. “Like a souvenir cookbook?” I wondered who would buy such a thing. Donnie’s Drive-Inn is great for a quick bowl of Sumo Saimin or a plateful of candy-sweet teriyaki beef slices, but what would be the point of reproducing the Drive-Inn’s dishes at home? All of the blandness and none of the convenience?
“I hadn’t thought of doing a whole cookbook,” he said. “I’m just pulling together some easy recipes for Davison. I think he’s living off instant noodles and beer right now.”
“It sounds like he’s really putting down roots on the mainland,” I said optimistically. “That’s great, you helping him to become more self-sufficient. And hey, there’s nothing wrong with noodles, right?”
I scooped some out of the soup and wound them around my chopsticks.
“Davison’s in a great program,” Donnie mused, “but sometimes I wish he were back here taking classes with you.”
The slippery noodles almost squirted out of my mouth. “What?” I sputtered. “Why?”
“I think you’re a good maternal influence on him,” Donnie grinned. “He behaves himself when you’re around.”
I nodded and tried not to choke. I like Donnie a lot. But I’m not ready to take on the role of mom. And stepmother to Davison Gonsalves is the last job I’d ever want to sign up for, right behind prying out my own kidneys with a plastic spoon.
“He’s not actually thinking of coming back, is he?” I asked. “And walking away from that great scholarship?”
“No, just dad’s wishful thinking,” Donnie said. “I’m glad you have his academic interests at heart. It’s good he has someone like you on his side.”
“Don’t mention it. By the way, Donnie, can I ask your opinion about something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think it’s possible to make something happen just because you’re hoping for it to happen? You know, with the power of your mind, or emotions, or whatever?”
“Are you thinking Kathy Banks passed away because you wished it? Why are you looking at me like that? Isn’t that what you were leading up to?”
“I was. You’re very perceptive. Because here’s the thing. I was down there at the bay when it happened.”
“I didn’t know that,” Donnie said.
“I was standing there with Pat and Yoshi, you know Emma’s husband, and of course you know Pat.”
One look at Donnie’s face told me I should have edited Pat out of the story. Pat and I had already been close friends when I met Donnie, so Donnie tolerates him, but that’s as good as it’s ever going to get.
“Anyway,” I continued quickly, “I knew Kathy was out there paddling, so we were talking about how Emma was working her crew really hard, and we hoped no one would drop dead from the strain. You know, idle musing.”
He nodded. “And then?”
“Well, that’s when it happened. One minute everything was fine, and suddenly we heard all this shouting, and it turned out Kathy had fallen into the water and I guess you heard the rest.”
“So you’re asking me, are you responsible? Because you were thinking about something bad happening to her, right before it actually happened?”
“Right. I guess I am asking that. So what do you think?”
“Molly, sometimes things just happen. You know that.”
“Yeah. Now we’re talking about it I realize how silly it sounds. Hey, are you going to eat this piece of Spam?”
“All yours. Enjoy. I have to get back. Are you still coming for lunch Tuesday? I got some real buffalo mozzarella for Caprese.” He stood up and took the Styrofoam bowl to throw away.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
I meant it. Donnie’s home cooking is extraordinary; it’s nothing like what you get at Donnie’s Drive-Inn.
My sense of having received absolution on the Kathy Banks question faded as I drove away. I remembered a bit of bad luck had befallen one of Donnie’s competitors not long ago. It had made things awkward all around. Donnie doesn’t like to talk about it. But I realized his take on my situation might not have been completely objective.