I’m swallowing the beans of a Taco Bell enchilada when the nausea sets in.  Pausing, I glance at the table where yellow processed cheese congeals on 99 cent nachos.  I sit back and take a break from eating.

Across from me, dwarfed in the mustard-colored booth sits my six year old son, Jeb.  He eagerly devours his bean and cheese burrito, the refried sludge smearing on his chin.  Seated beside him is his father, Rex, dressed in an orange sweater and distressed jeans.  He, too, readily eats his assortment of pseudo-mexican food spread on the brown plastic tray before him.

In the years since Rex and I separated, we’ve only occasionally shared meals together with Jeb.  This is my first meal here at this fast food two-for-one where you can order both a Pizza Hut personal pan and a run-for-the-border meal pack.  It smells like stale tortilla chips and salted cheese.  Father and son look comfortable here and I suspect they’ve shared this Taco Bell ritual many times before.

It’s night time outside our fluorescent-lit fast food bubble.  I look at the window and see the reflection of the three of us in the glass.  It’s raining and the drips run down and blur us into some kind of rippled watercolor.

A song comes through the speaker above our table.  Something about love going fast on a highway and I comment that it’s fitting because Rex is flying to Los Angles tonight.  I feel somewhat alarmed to experience synchronicity here.  Isn’t that supposed to happen when you’re in the right place at the right time? This is the wrong place and a strange time. Beans churn in my stomach.  I sip some water.

I watch my hands on the table of our booth and observe them as though they aren’t quite mine.  They neatly fold the bold font wrappers declaring delicious bargains.  They push away the cinnamon fluff puffs we didn’t order.

“Taco Bell’s my favorite restaurant, Mom.”

Jeb’s so pleased to be here with both of us he’s nearly forgotten about the airport goodbye that awaits him.

“Well, how cool is it that we all got to come here tonight,” I say.

I share a look with Rex.  The only remaining thread that links us is our son.

“I’m glad to be here with you guys.”  Rex puts his hand on Jeb’s little knee.  “I’m sure going to miss you Jeb.”

He speaks in the slow sweetness adults often use with children.  Sincere but slightly affected.

Jeb scooches closer to nuzzle him with exaggerated affection, not noticing that his chin beans rub into Rex’s sweater.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, son,” and he demonstrates with a kiss to the top of his head.  Rex nestles and shifts, smiles towards me, basking in acceptance like he’s been absolved of all transgressions.

I glance in the watery mirror of the window and see their profiles.  Their arms around each other.  I look at Jeb and smile.

Finishing his meal, Rex relaxes back into his Taco Bell booth, settling in looking quite content to linger.  Nothing in Rex’s posture tells that he has a plane to catch in an hour.  That the job he got in LA starts tomorrow.  That he’s leaving his son for at least six weeks.  In fact, he looks so at home here I think he might just try to stay.

The Pointer Sisters sing “Jump for my Love” and Jeb dives into the sugar puffs given to us by mistake.  He knows the meal is over.  He’s gleaning sugar while he can.

I gather the wrappers, clear the table, take the tray to the trash can and dump it.  My movements seem to shake Rex from his reverie.

“Yeah, I think it’s time,” he says, standing and tossing his napkin.

It’s getting late and I’m thinking about how it’s a school night, there’s a lunch to be made for tomorrow and how Jeb will fall asleep on the car ride home and I won’t be able to brush the cinnamon sugar off his teeth.

We step out of Taco Bell into the clean wet air.  It’s misting in the street lights as we make our way to the car.

“Thanks for dinner, Rex.”

“It was my pleasure.  Thanks for the ride to the airport.”

Rex sits in the backseat next to Jeb.  My mama bear instincts are keen as I feel my son bracing for what he knows comes next.  My heart aches for him.

“Ok, here we go,” I say as I pull out onto the road to the airport.

I roll down my window and take in a long breath of fresh air.