Taco Jesus

by Barry Phillips

We found the Taco Jesus the day after the pregnancy scare turned out to be a false alarm.  We were going to stay in on Friday night and I’d rented a movie and bought one of those easy to fix taco dinner boxes along with the accompanying ground beef, onion, lettuce, tomato, cheese, and Chianti on my way home from work.  She was in the living room watching TV while I browned the ground beef with onion and taco seasonings.  I ripped open the plastic packaging for the tortillas and noticed an unusual shape on the top tortilla.

“Hey!”

“Yeah?”

“Come here a second.”

“Why?  What’s up?”

“This looks like Jesus on this taco!”

She entered the room with a look of bemused skepticism.  She took the tortilla off the counter, cocked her head slightly, and a startled look crossed her face.

“This DOES look like Jesus!”

“Well I for one hope it’s a tasty Jesus!”, I exclaimed.

“That’s sacrilegious and horrible even for you”, she said with disgust.

“It wasn’t meant to be sacrilegious.  It’s a taco.  It’s dinner and I’m hungry.”

“We’re not eating this taco”.

“What?!”

“We’re not eating this taco.”

At first I thought she was joking.  When I realized she wasn’t, I assumed she believed it was valuable and we could sell it or perhaps get in the newspapers. 

I said, “Maybe we can put it on an online auction and some idiot will pony up enough cash so we can take a decent vacation.” 

“Is that what you think?  That I want to exploit this?”

“Well, what DO you want?”  I noticed she was now caressing the tortilla, turning her body ever so slightly so as to shield the taco from me.

“I don’t know, but it was sent to us for some reason.  There is a blessing or message here somewhere.”

Now it was my turn to look startled.  “WHAT?  Are you serious?  Are you standing there taking the Taco Jesus seriously?!”

Now she’s glaring.  “Yes, yes I am.  I think it was sent here for a reason.  I think we need to display it or call a priest or something.”

“DISPLAY it?!  Call a PRIEST?! We’ll have half of Latin and Central America tramping through here!  It’s a taco!”

“Well thank you for being so racist and understanding.  Do you have any faith at all?”

“Faith?  Of course I have faith.  How could I close my eyes at night if I never thought I wouldn’t open them again in the morning?  How could I pass a car on the road without having faith they’re not going to cross the center line and crash into me?  I even have faith that with a little salsa and sour cream, that taco is going to be divinely delicious.”

More glaring.

“You weren’t so full of faith last night”, she said as she quietly slipped out of the kitchen, taco in hand.

Ahh, and there it was. The real reason obfuscated by the Taco Jesus.  The previous night she finally confided how late her period was and went out and bought a pregnancy test.  Before she would open the box, she made me have “the talk”, the one about what we were going to do, what we should do.  As hard as I fought not to answer, she prodded me relentlessly.  And so finally……

“Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do.  I love you and I’ll be here for you any way you need, whatever you choose.  But truthfully, I always thought a child was something you planned for when the time was right and I’m a little scared that now is not that time.”

She stared at me for several seconds and then wordlessly rose and went upstairs.  She came down 5 minutes later, turned on the TV and staring straight ahead at the set said, “Don’t worry, it’s negative”.

Three days after finding the Taco Jesus I awoke to find a missing suitcase and a letter.   She said she prayed for guidance when she thought she was pregnant, and that the Taco Jesus was her sign of deliverance.  I called her family and friends but no one would help me find her and I never did see the Taco Jesus mentioned in the news or for sale on the internet.  It’s been two years now and I still lie awake at night wondering where she is and oddly enough, wondering what became of the Taco Jesus. And I wrestle with the faith to believe I’ll ever know for sure.