Fish Tacos

A fictional vignette inspired by a found shopping list.

“Max, stop squirming, you aren’t getting out. Reg will be right back, won’t you Reg?” Georgina realized that Reggie was already gone.

Max looked at the soccer field with longing, turning his stuffed bunny to spectate with him through the car window. Georgina marveled at this moment of quiet and turned on Mahler’s Symphony No. 8.

Dominic and Reggie returned in a swirl of bags and cleats, slamming the car doors, talking over one another and peppering her with questions. 

“Ma, can I have 20 quid? The guys are getting Nando’s, can I go? Do I have to go to the grocery shop?” Dominic, ever the optimist.

“Can I watch Dom’s game tomorrow? Can I play soccer? Can I have an X-Box?” Reggie ran all of this together as if it was one coherent question. 

“How many is seven?” Max chimed in, not wanting to be left out.

“Seven is seven.” Reggie answered, with his distinct 12-year-old authority. Max, just 5, seemed to accept this.

Georgina pulled out of the lot, answering them in turn, “Definitely not, no, and yes, my children will learn to shop and to cook. Maybe, yes, no but good try.”

“I’m going to wear you down eventually,” Reggie explained.

“Yes, we’re all looking forward to it, darling.” Georgina replied drily.

Dom rolled his window down and shouted to the players on the field, “Sorry lads, not happening.” He gestured meaningfully at his mother, to clarify who was to blame. “What are we having, then?” Dom directed this to the whole car. 

“What would you make for dinner, bunny?” Georgina looked at Max in the rear view mirror. 

“Toast!” Max announced, holding up his bunny in victory as the Mahler track came to a triumphant crescendo. Everyone had seen that coming.

“Reg, how about you?” Reggie was the self-appointed chef of the group. 

“Ummm, maybe fish tacos…with mango salsa?”

“Lovely! What do we need for mango salsa?” This was a familiar game.

Reggie raised his hand and answered rapidly, “shallots, mangoes, peppers, lime…”

“Reggie you don’t have to raise your hand but yes, very good. Dom?”

Dom rolled his eyes good naturedly, “Cilantro.” 

“Oh, critical!” Reggie couldn’t believe he hadn’t said cilantro.

“Peanut butter!” Max added, giggling.

Dom made a face, “Ew, mate.” This reaction was mostly for effect as they all knew that Dom would eat anything.

“Peanut butter doesn’t go in salsa!” Reggie sounded personally offended.

Georgina smiled. “He knows that, sweetheart. He’s joking.” Dom had turned around to make more disgusted faces at Max, who couldn’t stop laughing. 

“Crushed peanuts could be interesting…” Reggie grew thoughtful.

“Points for innovation.” Georgina made a brushing motion with her hand, as if bestowing points. 

“X-Box points?” Reggie made his eyes big and puppy-like.

“No.”

Later they were all in their small kitchen, Georgina cooking the fish, Reggie and Dominic chopping their assigned vegetables, and Max sprawled on the floor, drawing. With the window open they could hear live Caribbean music being played on the street a few blocks away.

“I have to teach an online lesson at 8,” Georgina addressed her sous-chefs, “I’ll need you to keep an eye on Max.” The boys grumbled their compliance. They knew the drill. Georgina was a cellist in the London Symphony Orchestra, which sounded like it paid better than it did. The symphony was finally performing again but the shut-down had hurt all of the musicians, nearly all of whom did teaching and performing gigs on the side to make ends meet. 

“So...can I go to the game?” Reggie asked.

“I’m sorry, darling, I have rehearsal and I need you to be with Max for a bit.” Georgina turned to Dom, apologetic, “I won’t be able to make it.”

Dom shrugged and hid any disappointment well, “We’re rubbish anyway this season.” 

“You’re not rubbish!” Max defended. Dom grinned at Max and bent down to give him a high five. Dom was in fact very talented but Georgina rarely got to witness this. It could not be helped but it was unfortunate.

Reggie sulked. Georgina put the limes in front of him and made a face that meant, “quit whining and juice these limes.” Reggie did not stop sulking but he did start juicing the limes.

“What are you drawing, sweetheart?” 

“A still-life.” Max did not look up. Georgina made noises of interest as she seasoned the fish. Reggie juiced each lime within an inch of its life, ignoring everyone.

“Can I see, man?” Dominic had run out of things to chop and was leaning back precariously in a dining chair that seemed much too small for him, spinning a soccer ball on his fingertips. At Dom’s request Max ran over with his work. “Yeah! Not bad! That looks just like Reg.” Max glowed. He had drawn a stick figure of their mother next to a small mountain of limes that had Reggie’s head peeking out from behind them. Next to that he had drawn a stick-figure-Dominic kicking a soccer ball. 

Reggie’s curiosity outpaced his anger. He walked over and made a grimace that Max could not translate. Max patted Reggie’s arm sympathetically.

“Where are you, though?” Dominic asked. Max pointed to an empty space to the left of the sheet of paper. 

“Right here! With bunny!” He said, as if it was obvious. “And there is mum’s cello.” He pointed to the cello, which was standing in the corner of the living room. Dominic could not argue with this.

“Will you taste this, Reg?” Georgina held a spoon out. Reggie was still upset but could not resist an opportunity to give his opinion. Mollified by his mother’s deference, he accepted the spoon and tasted the salsa mixture.

“More salt.” He said, squinting.

“Hmm. Agreed.”

The salsa was adjusted and tasted again. Georgina looked at Reggie, waiting for a verdict. Reggie cocked his head and then nodded slowly in sober approval.

Once Max had spilled one cup of water and cried about banging his knee, Dominic had cleaned it up and distracted him with a dirty sock, Max had spilled half of his second cup of water and sort of cleaned it up himself, Reggie had gotten hot sauce in his eye and had it rinsed out, Georgina had burned just one tortilla and had toasted the rest without incident, and the table had been set, everyone agreed: these were the best fish tacos they had ever made.