Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice, Chapter 11 (Shopping for the Worst)

Brandon shifted his weight from foot to foot outside the grocery store, pulling his coat tighter around himself as he waited for Roberto to arrive. The evening was crisp, the sun already dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows over the parking lot. It wasn’t the ideal time to be gathering Thanksgiving supplies with his stepdad, but Brandon had promised to help, and he figured it might be a chance to smooth things over.

Finally, he spotted Roberto’s familiar car pulling up to the curb. The window rolled down, and Roberto gave him a short nod, his expression unreadable. Brandon opened the passenger door and slid in, trying to ease the tension with a friendly smile.

“Hey, Roberto. Ready to conquer the holiday shopping list?”

Roberto gave a noncommittal grunt, keeping his eyes on the road as he pulled away from the curb. “We’ll get what we need here, then stop at the farm for vegetables. After that, we’ll head to the butcher shop. I’ve had a turkey reserved since June.”

Brandon nodded, clasping his hands in his lap. He tried to make small talk about the weather and work, but each attempt fizzled in the silence that filled the car. Roberto remained stone-faced, his usual gruffness now tinged with what felt like lingering resentment. After a few more blocks of uncomfortable silence, Brandon decided to get to the point.

“Look, Roberto… about Thanksgiving.” He took a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. “I know you’re disappointed I won’t be here for dinner. But… ever since my family became, you know, a little more complicated, the holidays are just one big mess. I’m trying my best, but I can’t keep everyone happy.”

Roberto let out a short, humorless laugh. “Sounds like you’ve been talking to your girlfriend a lot. Putting yourself first, all that self-help talk.” He shot a glance in Brandon’s direction, his mouth set in a firm line.

“Adalynn’s not my girlfriend,” Brandon corrected quickly, surprised that Roberto would make such an assumption. The mention of Adalynn caught him off guard, and he felt a sudden urge to defend his feelings for her.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Roberto replied, turning his gaze back to the road.

Brandon opened his mouth, the words about to spill out, but before he could muster the courage to share his conflicted feelings about Adalynn, Roberto pulled into the grocery store parking lot. He didn’t say a word as they walked into the store, grabbing a cart and moving briskly through the aisles with Brandon trailing behind.

As they reached the baking aisle, Brandon decided to press on, hoping to make a connection. “Actually, about Adalynn… I’ve got these feelings for her, but I can’t seem to—”

His confession was cut short as Roberto suddenly stopped in front of the marshmallow shelf, his face scrunching up in irritation.

“Unbelievable!” he muttered, glaring at the empty spot on the shelf where the marshmallows were supposed to be. “How are they out of marshmallows the week before Thanksgiving? Do these people not plan?”

Brandon sighed, his own thoughts swallowed up by Roberto’s frustration. A few other shoppers glanced over at them, but Roberto was undeterred, gesturing angrily at the empty shelf.

“Excuse me!” he called out to a nearby employee. “Do you expect me to make yams without marshmallows? This is absurd!”

The employee, a young woman who looked both bored and slightly intimidated, mumbled something about checking in the back before hurrying away. Brandon couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at Roberto’s indignation.

Once the marshmallow crisis was temporarily resolved, they finished gathering the rest of the items on the grocery list, and Roberto begrudgingly agreed to substitute mini marshmallows for the jumbo ones he’d been hoping for. They headed back to the car, loading up the groceries before making their way to the farm.

The farm was a small, family-owned place just down the road, and by the time they arrived, the sky had faded to deep blue, the last hints of daylight clinging to the horizon. Roberto parked, and they stepped out into the crisp evening air, the faint scent of fresh earth and hay lingering around them.

Roberto glanced over at Brandon as they walked toward the farmstand. “You were saying something about Adalynn earlier?” he asked, sounding almost curious.

Brandon hesitated, feeling a bit foolish for bringing it up again, but he figured he’d already started. “Yeah… I guess I just, I don’t know, I really like her, but every time I think about asking her out, I can’t bring myself to do it. I end up freezing up or second-guessing myself.”

Roberto raised an eyebrow, looking at him like he’d just confessed to a crime. “What are you, a teenager? Be a man and ask her out already.”

Brandon frowned, taken aback by Roberto’s bluntness. “That’s… a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“Harsh?” Roberto scoffed, picking up a bundle of carrots and inspecting them. “You think the world’s going to give you everything you want because you hesitate? Men don’t sit around and stare at their lives, hoping things will fall into place. They go after what they want.”

Brandon let out a sigh, trying to keep his frustration in check. “It’s not about conquering her, Roberto. I actually like her. I want to respect her and make sure it’s… real, not just a fling.”

Roberto gave him a sidelong glance, but before he could respond, a young farmhand approached, looking slightly nervous. “Uh, sir? We’re about to close up for the night, so if you could make your final purchases, we’d really appreciate it.”

Roberto’s face contorted with irritation, and he rounded on the farmhand, gesturing toward the produce bins. “Close up? We just got here! How am I supposed to find decent vegetables for Thanksgiving when you’re rushing us out the door?”

The farmhand stammered an apology, but Roberto was already muttering under his breath in Spanish, clearly unimpressed with the customer service. Brandon stepped in, gently pulling Roberto toward the last few bins of produce, hoping to smooth things over before Roberto’s temper escalated further.

After picking out a few more items, they paid for the produce, loaded everything into the car, and set off toward the butcher shop. Brandon glanced at Roberto, feeling a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. Somehow, every errand with him turned into an event.

By the time they reached the butcher shop, the windows were dark, save for the neon sign in the window that read “OPEN.” Roberto strode in with Brandon in tow, his expression firm as he approached the counter.

“Hello, I’m here to pick up a turkey,” Roberto announced, his voice carrying a tone that suggested he expected the bird to be ready on a silver platter.

The butcher, a burly man with a thick mustache, checked his clipboard before looking back up with an apologetic smile. “Ah, I’m really sorry, sir. We actually ran out of turkeys yesterday. It’s been a busy week.”

Roberto’s face turned an impressive shade of red, and Brandon braced himself, already feeling the familiar sense of dread.

“Ran out? I placed my order in June,” Roberto said, his voice rising. “What’s the point of reserving a turkey if you’re just going to hand it over to someone else?”

The butcher raised his hands defensively, clearly accustomed to disgruntled customers. “I understand, sir, but we’ve been swamped with orders. We tried to call folks who missed the cutoff, but—”

“Oh, you tried?” Roberto snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, maybe next time you could try to save a turkey for someone who actually planned ahead.”

Brandon stepped in, gently tugging on Roberto’s arm. “Alright, Roberto, let’s go. We’ll figure something else out.”

Roberto shook him off, glaring at the butcher as if he’d committed a mortal sin. “This is ridiculous! I’m taking my business elsewhere next year, you hear me?”

The butcher merely nodded, seemingly unfazed by the outburst, and Brandon took the chance to pull Roberto away, muttering apologies over his shoulder as they left the shop.

Outside, Roberto grumbled under his breath, clearly still fuming, while Brandon tried to keep a straight face. He couldn’t help but feel that the entire day had been an absurd series of mini-dramas, each one more ridiculous than the last.

As they loaded the groceries and farm produce into the car, Roberto finally sighed, deflating slightly. “I just wanted this Thanksgiving to be perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than to Brandon.

Brandon nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy. “I know. And look, maybe it won’t be exactly what you pictured, but it’ll still be great. We’ve got most of what we need. And if we don’t get a turkey, there’s always ham or something.”

Roberto looked over at him, a reluctant smile forming on his face. “Ham, huh? I suppose it’s better than nothing.”

“Exactly,” Brandon said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Sometimes things don’t go as planned, but that doesn’t mean they can’t still be good.”

They climbed into the car, and as they drove back, the tension between them felt a little lighter. Thanksgiving was still a logistical mess, but for the first time in a while, Brandon felt like maybe they’d manage to find some peace in the chaos—even if it meant eating marshmallow-covered yams alongside a Thanksgiving ham.