Tacos for her Birthday

Warning: Contains blood, gore, and suicidal themes

Blue sky above, woven like a cloth blanket to not only warm the body, but the mind and heart. It laid its comfort over my soul, spreading over my face to lure out a wide smile. And the sun, shrouded by the wall of high-rises to the right, still ensured that its presence was known by shining its light beyond the edges of the buildings, creating an angelic glow. I’m sure Laila felt the warmth too.

She tightened one arm around my chest and pointed ahead. “Papá, it’s right there!”

My gaze followed the tip of her finger, landing on our destination. La Esquina. The red awning on the wall protruded towards the intersection, with the restaurant’s name printed on it in cursive calligraphy for every passing car and pedestrian to see.

Liz and I brought Laila here for her fifth birthday, hoping to have her fall in love with our culture’s food early. The face she made when the waiter placed our food on the table can only be described as utter disgust! 

That’s what happens when a child grows up on fast food. It was only until her fifth birthday that we could finally focus on raising our daughter. Liz had taken on a new job at Citizens Choice Banking at their headquarters deep in the city, just months after our baby girl was born. Meanwhile, I had just been promoted to an executive position at a law firm downtown.

After those five grueling years, we made the decision to quit our jobs. Now, six years later, it’s quite clear that Laila is much happier.

“Walk faster, walk faster!” she shouted.

I chuckled at her. “What, I thought you didn’t like tacos?”

“No! I love tacos!”

It’s true. After twenty minutes of us begging her to try it, she fell in love with the first bite. Immediately, she shared her goal of wanting to try every type of dish on the menu, one at a time. Today’s dish, for her eleventh birthday: tacos de lengua.

We crossed the intersection and approached the front door. As with my previous visits, I found myself in awe at the beautiful architecture and furnishings in the window. Pink-red brick characterized the walls with a sleek orange trim along the top and bottom. Polished wooden tables and chairs scattered around in a disorderly manner boasted authenticity in comparison to the dull appearance of the outside world. In a city defined by colossal concrete structures and grayscale colors, the restaurant stood tall in protest against modernity, offering a slice of colorful South American lifestyle that one could simply not resist.

With a push of the golden door handle, an overwhelming scent pierced my nose, urging me to step forward and be consumed by it. One by one, my mind identified each smell: piquant marinated meat for tacos al pastor, fresh corn tortillas from a cast iron griddle, and above all, a rich combination of vegetables and peppers in a molcajete.

They continued to soothe my senses as I approached the counter. The sound of cookware clanging with each other echoed from the kitchen when one of the cooks came out to take our order.

“Cinco tacos de lengua para mi porfavor,” I said.

“Why do you get to eat five,” Laila protested as she leaped off of my back.

I chuckled lightly. “If you ate five, you’d have a big stomach ache.”

“Fine,” she said. “Can I have two?”

I looked up at the cook, who grinned and wrote down her order on a yellow notepad. He excused himself back to the kitchen, and Laila began to march around excitedly.

“Ta-cos! Ta-cos! Ta-cos!” she chanted. 

The pitter-patter of her sandals against the ceramic tiles joined the continued orchestra of cooking from the kitchen. Before long, the cook returned.

“Come with me,” he said.

I was taken aback by the request. “Into the kitchen?”

He let out a friendly laugh. “You seem like a sweet father and daughter, so we thought you’d enjoy eating in the kitchen. Think of it like VIP access.”

I looked down at Laila with confusion, but she seemed entirely onboard with the idea.

“I wanna eat in the kitchen!” she shouted.

“Okay, let’s do it,” I said with a chuckle.

The cook lifted the flip-up countertop for us and we all piled into the kitchen. It was a magnificent sight to behold, more so than I ever thought it would be. There were many cooks, all scattered at their own stations, preparing various types of dishes. Tacos, quesadillas, burritos, chilaquiles… anything my heart desired was there.

We continued following the cook to two chairs at one of the counters where our tacos were prepared. My plate held five tacos, each filled with meat, onion, cilantro, and salsa verde. Laila and I promptly sat, thanked God for the food, and picked up a taco.

Before the tortilla even touched my lips, I could feel the combination of tastes radiate from beneath the salsa, forcing my mouth to water instantly. Slowly, I opened my mouth and bit, ensuring that every flavor seeped into the depths of my tongue before chewing.

The tortilla melted inside my mouth, and the meat joined with the toppings to create a burst of spicy goodness. I wanted more, and went for the next bite, followed by the next. Each one retained the initial savory sensation, leaving me in a state of absolute tranquility by the end of the first taco. I used the remaining end of the tortilla to scoop up any of the meat and toppings that had fallen off before starting the next one.

Time had frozen in place, the outside world waiting for me as I devoured each taco. When I eventually finished my plate, I sat still for a moment to enjoy the continued peace of the kitchen ambiance.

Right as I prepared to stand, I regurgitated and clutched my mouth. That’s what happens when you eat too fast. I was left with a stinging sensation in my throat and a terrible taste in my mouth. I wiped off the red liquid from my lips with a napkin and stood once more.

I turned to my right and was surprised to discover that Laila had left her tacos completely untouched. Tacos de lengua are an acquired taste to some, so it was understandable that she had finally encountered a dish on the menu to avoid. I lifted her up onto my back and wrapped her arms around my chest to start heading home.

“Please make your way towards the shelter,” someone said.

I immediately flung my body backward to face whoever spoke, but the only person behind me was the cook, who sat against a counter on the floor.

“L-let’s go home, Laila,” I stammered.

I lifted the flip-up countertop once more and walked back into the dining hall, which was now filled with guests. However, no one was touching their food.

We continued outside and crossed the intersection back in the direction we came from. The sky above had lost its pleasant blue color, replaced by a silent gray. The sun’s glow had vanished as well, failing to brighten the clouds. Given the darkness of the world around me, I found myself stumbling against the sidewalk, until I eventually fell forward.

Laila was launched further ahead and clattered against the pavement of the road.

I screamed and tried to reach at her, but I stopped when my eyes adjusted to the dark.

It wasn’t Laila. It was just a gray mass with a pink dress placed unusually over its head. Protruding from the side was a long bone, and smaller bones resembling a hand at the end.

I felt sick. I didn’t know what I was looking at, nor did I want to. I tried to stand once more, but a rising sensation came through my body and I vomited a red liquid.

My abdomen was on fire, and my chest ached. My heart was beating faster than I knew was possible at an irregular pace.

I managed to turn my body around, but immediately fell back and faced the sky. Rather than towering high-rises surrounding me, there were only massive lumps of broken down concrete rubble. A dense gray mist hovered around them, like clouds of dust. Windows no longer held panes, and the furnishings of the rooms inside were nowhere to be seen.

I vomited once more, now surrounded in a pool of maroon that reeked a pungent iron smell. I tried to speak, but only gurgling from my throat could be heard. What was happening to me?

I tried to remember something. My wife… I couldn’t remember what she looked like. It had been years since I had seen her. All I could remember is another gray skeletal mass like the one in front of me.

And Laila… it was supposed to be her eleventh birthday today. I just wanted to bring her out for food like her fifth birthday. The food. I could remember the food, but it was different this time.

Before the green-pale mass of skin even touched my lips, I could feel the combination of tastes radiate from beneath the spongy bone marrow, forcing my mouth to water instantly. Slowly, I opened my mouth and bit, ensuring that every flavor seeped into the depths of my tongue before chewing.

The skin melted inside my mouth, and the remaining meat from the cook’s thigh joined with the toppings to create a burst of sour goodness. I wanted more, and went for the next bite, followed by the next. Each one retained the initial acetic sensation, leaving me in a state of absolute repulsion by the end of the first taco. I used the remaining end of the skin to scoop up any of the meat and toppings that had fallen off before starting the next one.

This was enough, yes, this was surely enough to finally make myself disappear forever. I didn't want to see my wife anymore, her distorted face and body welcoming me every morning and evening. For six years, I went about my routine of going to work and coming home, but there was nothing left in the world, not my Liz, not my job, not my Laila. It was all gone, yet I still did it. For six years. Why? Why? Why?

I would've quit sooner, but I couldn't leave my Laila. Even now, I can remember her cute giggles and her innocent energy. I didn't want to leave that behind, how could I? Right when I was finally able to really be her father and raise her, the bright light came down and shattered the world forever.

Maybe Liz and Laila were waiting for me above, watching me care for empty shells without end. This is what they'd want for me, to finally leave this world and meet them.

A robotic echo came from the distance. "Please make your way towards the shelter."

I turned my head, which was now the only part of my body that I could feel.

"Follow the drone. Disaster relief teams from around the globe have set up a shelter at the end of the impact zone to help any survivors. Please make your way towards the shelter."

My eyes slowly began to close.

"Follow the drone. Disaster relief teams from around..."