"Are you ready to order?" a cheery voice asks us. I look up, scowling, from the diminutive menu in front of me and study our server. She's small-framed and beautiful, and the way her clear-blue eyes smile down at us makes me feel like glowering even more.

"Not yet." I say curtly and effectively shoo her away.

Zander sighs, trying but miserably failing to hide his impatience. Ugh. I want to be angry at him, but I can't. It's not his fault he is now stuck in a date-not-date--an awkward threesome of forced civility. I like the kid, and the noises that stomach is making are certainly begging me to make a choice and quickly. 

"What are you having?" I ask, looking up from the menu, my eyes suddenly meeting Gaspar's dark brown ones. As usual, they are intense and unfathomable. I glance back down at the menu, feeling embarrassed.

"Vegan Fish tacos." Zander says dismissively, "with something or other on the side."

"Sounds good. What about you?" I ask Gaspar and brave a quick glance at his hairline. His widow's peak is in the vicinity of his eyes, right?

"Same." He answers, while looking off into the distance and taking a sip. I surreptitiously turn and glance in the direction he is looking. The kitchen. Ah, yes. That kind of makes sense. He's here to research. He had to bring the kid along too. I suppose the landlady is away again it being the holidays. I feel so stupid, and am thankful that I went light on the makeup and take comfort in my messy bun that saves me from looking like I am trying too hard. I feel petulant and angry, but it would be immature to continue being so. I take a fortifying breath and soldier on.

"Vegan fish tacos?" I say, finding the item on the menu. "Hm. Sounds good. Are you also vegan, Zander?"

Zander shakes his head, "Nah. Just had what dad ordered. We always have the same since he doesn't—"

Something about what he said pisses Gaspar off. He shoots him a look that would equate to a sound kick in the shin, causing Zander to smile sheepishly at him and not finish what he was saying.

I raise my eyebrow at this but don't pursue the topic. I catch our server's eye and indicate that we are ready.

"Alright." She says smiling, as she fishes our her handy-dandy writing pad, "What can I get you guys?"

"Vegan Fish Tacos, and herbed fries." Gaspar said.

"Same." Zander says, giving the waitress a quick wink. It is ineffectual as a means of flirting and rather comical coming from him. I see the corner of her lips twitch, but she doesn't laugh out loud, which I find commendable.

"Same." I say, handing the menu to her waiting hand.

Once she retreats I lean back eyeing both of my companions. Gaspar is in the seat in front of me. The tall glass of ice water seeming to be the most fascinating object in the world from the way it holds his attention. Zander, who is sitting on my side of the booth, is looking around tapping his fingers nervously. The three of us are silent.

I sigh, and once again exert myself to make some conversation. Maybe If I can pretend to the way our server looks I can pull this off. She looks so bright. Cheery. Not at all disappointed. "So what are you doing with yourself now that you're on Christmas break?" I ask Zander.

Zander shrugs. "Nothing much. Hanging around. Reading mostly."

"Hmm?" I ask appreciatively, "What kind of books do you like to read?"

"Well..." I looks at me as if seeing if I really want to know or if I'm just trying to make small talk. I really do want to know, I find that a person's choice of reading is quite telling. When he sees my smile of encouragement his own features form a smile. Ah. There is that kid I remember from that other night. His bow-shaped smile reminds me of a picture I once saw of Pan making some sort of mischief.

"So right now" he says leaning forward, "I'm reading a book called The Hero of Ages, it is like the most awesome book. It is soo cool, the last of the Mistborn trilogy by Sanderson. Man! I love that author. And was this close to finishing it earlier. But then—" He cuts himself off suddenly, and the enthusiasm fades form his face as he glances at Gaspar, "But you know." He says, all trace of enthusiasm gone, "I like to read, I guess. But it's not like I read only fantasy. I read other stuff too.."

What is going on? Gaspar won't talk to me, so I guess he's not letting Zander talk to me? What kind of date-not-date is this?

"He's being modest," Gaspar says at last, "He has read more books than anyone I know. Tell her what you did when I got you that Kindle. Go on tell her."

Zander shakes his head.

"What did you do?" I ask, "Surely you didn't max out a credit card, did you?"

Zander stiffens.

"Oh. Wow." I laugh in unbelief.

"Close, but no." Gaspar says, leaning over and ruffling Zander's brown, limp hair. Never mind that the kid is taller than he is, he treats him like a kid still. Zander seems to resent that greatly. "He bought close to two hundred dollars worth of books using the debit card I gave him to buy himself lunch. Week's worth of lunch money—gone."

Zander looks a little embarrassed. "The Bible says forgive your brother 70 times 7."

Gaspar raises a mocking eyebrow at him, "What happened to 'Man does not live on bread alone?' Don't even try that on me. Not gonna work. Especially not if one of the books you bought was titled—"

Zander bolts right and tries to cover Gaspar's mouth with his hand. "Shut up! I told you I bought it by mistake. What the hell!"

Gaspar is laughing now, and he's teasing Zander mercilessly. My curiosity is piqued. What is the kid reading? 

"I'm sorry! Ok? Can you just drop it? You don't need to humiliate me in order to look good in front of her." Zander says, his pink face turning crimson. 

Well that is awkward. Unfortunately, Zander is now angry and I imagine he is not inclined to converse with me for the moment. I am now forced to address his father.

"So nothing new on the truck?"

Gaspar grimaces, "Not much other than we'll be off work until after New Years from the looks of it."

"No! That means we aren't gonna make it to the Long Beach and the Tustin events."

"Unfortunately. It's the holidays. Even for mechanics."

I groan. "Those two  were so hard to secure."

"I know. I'm sorry. I know how hard you worked." Gaspar said, sounding like he meant it, "But remember, you were all up for that leisure thing. Maybe you outta try that too." He smiles at me, but I don't have the heart to revive that little banter we had over the phone. Whatever had been going on it was dead. Done. I shook my head.

"Nah. Chito will need me at home. Mom too. It's difficult for her."

From then the conversation turns to Chito and his health. He's having to lose weight to avert some of the danger and in order to get surgery. As such, his eating habits have had to change drastically. But I believe he can do it. He goes to see some doctor regularly, and I plan to help him out in whatever he needs. Gaspar is genuinely worried for Chito, and makes me promise that I will let him know if there is anything he can do to help.

Our tacos arrive and we all focus on eating our meal. Two small tacos piled impossibly high with a purple cabbage slaw, drizzled in vegan crema. The entree includes black beans and a colorful salad. Zander wolfs his meal down. Gaspar barely eats at all, but through the meal I catch him looking at me once or twice, but I choose to look away. I am really trying to be civil, but what he did is unforgivable. One does not simply ask a girl out for lunch and bring one's kid to what should have been a date. 

However, with the appearance of the food we find that the awkward silences are gone, and instead we find plenty to talk about as we dissect and analyze the flavors in our food. 

"The texture is off. Not like fish at all." Gaspar says after his first bite. He has leaned back into his seat, hand at his chin, regarding the taco studiously.

"Yeah," I agree around my mouthful, "It is too much like firm tofu. However, the taste is spot on."

"Not fish-like, surely" He says, shooting me a skeptical look.

"uh-uh." Zander says shaking his head, "It's the crunchy part. Candy's right. It's perfect."

"Aside form the fake fish, the exterior texture is ok. But Isn't it too salty?" Gaspar asks after taking a second bite and chewing thoughtfully.

"No. It's the tartness of the lime." Zander says, "Hm. I think they put smoked chipotle on the crema. Its good."

"What do you think of the garlic. Too much? Too little?" Gaspar asks me.

"Hm... it could maybe use a little more."

"Nah. It's good." Zander says, "Otherwise it overpowers the fake fish."

"You may have a point." I say, "I do so love garlic."

"Overall," Zandre nods knowingly, looking for all the world like a young sage, "I'd say that the vegan fish, with the batter and lime are...canary yellow. The slaw is... I can't describe it. early-spring green?"

I have no idea what he meas about yellow and green, but I kind of know what he means about the flavor of the slaw, "It's the parsley. It's not a lot, and it's easy to overlook as it is chopped and it is the same color as the cilantro. But the parsley on the slaw is actually genius." I say, "Cilantro is a given, but the parsley is simply unexpected. Somehow the taste is fuller. I like it."

"That's right. Its a forest-green taste." Zander agrees. He's finished both tacos and he reaches over as if to take Zander's second taco. Gaspar slaps his hand away, even though he doesn't seem like he's going to get to it. Hell, he's not even given the first taco a third bite.

"Its good." I say, "But its not... Baja fish tacos anymore. It's a fusion. I think they used coconut oil somewhere so it is somehow more.... I don't know. Thai? Indian? Coconut messes it up."

"Hm. Yeah. I hadn't noticed the coconut oil."  Zander said, "Can I eat the fries now?"

Gaspar nods.

Zander devours.

"Why does he need to ask you permission?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, "Are you the controlling type?"

Gaspar doesn't bother answering, instead he gives me a look, and I realize that what I said could sound flirty or just plain perverted. Embarrassed, I immediately focus on my plate.

"Oh these are good!" Zander says, "Oh man. What did they do? Oregano. But what else? What else?"

"Parsley, again." Gaspar says.

"Really? How'd you know?" I ask. I'd found it difficult to place the herbs... I'd tasted thyme too.

"It said it on the menu."

"That's cheating," I say, wondering if It would be unforgivable for me to ask for a bottle of ketchup. Some establishments get up in arms when you ask for condiments to pour in your food. I don't give a darn about that. I ask sunny the server for a bottle of Heinz.

"Do you taste garlic salt?" Gaspar asks me.

"No. It would be nice if it had some garlic salt."

"As I thought." Gaspar says.

"Ah." Zander said leaning back in his chair with a fry in his mouth. His eyes unfocused for a second as he chews thoughtfully, "caramel-brown with some more forest-green. The fries."

"What's up with all the colors anyway?" I ask Gaspar.

"Zander's senses are cross wired. Synesthesia, he calls it. We both eat the same thing, but he experiences it much differently."

"So that's why you order the same thing? To learn how flavors play in the mind of an synesthesiac?"

"I guess. Yeah."

"And to smell the food." Zander cuts in suddenly, finishing the last of his fries. "He can't smell anything. Anything. So we always eat the same, discuss the food, and he knows what they taste like through my description."

I sit, stunned at this revelation.

What? Gaspar can't smell? "Is this true?" I ask Gaspar.

For once he is the first to avert his eyes. He blinks slowly and telegrams his offspring all kinds of promises of fiery retributions for apparently letting the cat out of the bag. Zander smirks at him. Ah, this is payback from earlier.

Gaspar pushes his  plate away and slumps into his seat, crossing his arms. "Yeah. I'm anosmic. I have lost all my sense of smell."