I just smiled and waved. He was working, and I didn’t want to interrupt him. I just wanted him to know that I was there.
He didn’t look at all happy to see me. But that’s the way it is with kids. They’re always embarrassed when their parents show up. Make an appearance at their place of employment, and they want the ground to open up and swallow them whole. I thought it was too bad I hadn’t worn something stupid, maybe a ball cap on backwards, to make Paul’s humiliation complete.
One of the twins had grabbed a cheese-covered patty off the grill and slipped it into a bun. “Whatcha want on it?” she asked me.
I started pointing to toppings. “Hold the onion,” I said.
“Peppers?”
“Sure, a couple.”
I watched her pile everything on, then put the burger, with some fries, into a takeout Styrofoam container.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” Paul was standing next to me, up very close.
“Jeez, hi,” I said. I looked to see who was on the grill. Another kid about Paul’s age had filled in for him. “So how’s it going?”
“Why are you here?” he asked again.
“I’m getting some dinner, okay? Is that a problem?”
“Dad, you can’t eat here.”
I shook my head. “What, did I embarrass you? All I said was ‘Hey.’ If they had a drive-through window, I’d do that, you wouldn’t even have to know I was here at all.”
“Dad, just…” He pulled me aside, away from the counter and toward the door. “Just don’t eat here.”
“What is your problem?” I said, shaking his arm off me. “I just wanted to show an interest, for Christ’s sake.”
“No, Dad, you don’t get it,” he whispered. “You can’t eat here. You can’t eat this stuff.”
I glanced down at my foam box and then back at him. “What, you’re watching my diet for me now? If I want to have fast food once in a while, I’ll have it. I had a cholesterol test six months ago and I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Paul whispered. “This place is a fucking death trap. The meat’s bad. I’ve been burning everyone’s burger all day, making sure it’s really cooked, just in case.”
“The meat’s bad? What, why?”
“You know that big thunderstorm last night? Well, the power went off here, and the freezer was off for hours, didn’t even come back on till, like, just before lunchtime, I guess, and everything had thawed out. The burgers had been at room temp for ages.”
I swallowed. “Are you serious?”
Paul looked over my shoulder. “You could get, like, cheeseburger disease from eating this. I can’t talk to you anymore. They might figure out what I’m telling you. Just don’t eat this, Dad. I don’t want you to fucking die on me.” He paused a moment. “I think the fries are okay, though. They’re actually pretty good.”
He turned to go back to his post and this time I grabbed his arm. “Wait a second. Are you telling me, all these people here, they’re eating potentially contaminated food?”
Paul shrugged. “Yeah, they are. But they’re not my dad.”
“Paul, cheeseburg—hamburger disease can kill people. It’s that E. coli virus or whatever. You can’t mess around with that. If these people are eating this stuff, they’ve got to be told. Has anyone been sick yet?”
“Some guy came in a while ago, said he got a bad burger at lunch, felt like he was gonna puke. He talked to Conan over there,” he nodded toward the woman on the register, “and she practically threw him out the door. She’s a fucking linebacker.”
I swallowed hard. My mouth was starting to feel very dry. Paul could see that I was pondering what to do.
“What?” he said. “What are you thinking?”
There was an elderly couple at one table, cutting a burger in half with a plastic knife. At the next table, a guy who looked like some sort of city worker, orange vest and jeans, hard hat on the seat next to him, chowing down on a double burger. And then, two tables over from him, a mother with two small children. She was unwrapping the foil covering on burgers for each of them.
“Kids,” I said, to myself as much as to Paul.
He looked around. “What?” he said.
“Kids can die,” I said. “They can die from hamburger disease. It can cause kidney failure.”
Paul’s eyes were getting wild with panic. “Jesus, Dad, what are you going to do?”
I was feeling pretty panicked myself. What, exactly, was I planning to do?
And then I just acted, without even thinking. I took a few steps over to the mother feeding her kids, bent down, and said to her quietly, “Don’t give them that.”
She looked at me, pulled back in surprise. “Excuse me?”
Paul, behind me, said, “Dad, what the hell are you—”
“The burgers,” I said, ignoring him. “Don’t let them eat the burgers. They had a power failure here. There might be a risk of E. coli and—”
“Oh my God,” she said, reaching across the table and grabbing the burgers out of her children’s hands.
“Mouuum!” one whimpered angrily.