A Hot Seat in the Frozen Food Aisle

Here's a short story for everyone :)  Just another brief tale in Mark and Connor's life.
JL-

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A Hot Seat in the Frozen Food Aisle

Grocery shopping...UGH.  It wasn’t Mark’s favorite chore, but his husband Connor hated it.  It was like a switch flipped in Connor’s personality and he went from a mature, intelligent man into a petulant, bored toddler.  Mark learned early on when they first started living together that it was best to claim this unwelcome chore himself, but occasionally he did have to bring Connor along with him.

Such was the case today.  Mark had just finished an eye doctor appointment and his dilated eyes made it a necessity to have Connor drive him, first to the ophthalmologist, and then to the grocery store.  With sunglasses on, Mark could see well enough to navigate the aisles with the cart, but not enough to drive or read the grocery list.

However, he was starting to wish he’d put off the shopping for another day.  Connor’s attitude was spiraling downward quickly, and Mark’s irritation was rising just as fast.

At the moment they were in the cereal aisle, and Mark didn’t need to have Connor read the list to him to know what to reach for.  A box of Honey Nut Cheerios and another of Raisin Bran were added to the cart.

“Can’t we get something different sometimes?”

Mark sighed to himself.  The whine in Connors voice was unnatural and grating.  “Of course we can.”  He tried to keep his tone even.  “What do you want?”

Connor reached for a box of Fruity Pebbles and Mark shook his head.  He didn’t usually dictate what Connor could and couldn’t eat, but he knew what would happen if they got that awful cereal.

“No, Connor.  Not that stuff.  You’ll eat one bowl of it and complain the whole time about how quickly it gets soggy.  I won’t eat the stuff and the whole box will go to waste.”

Even with his compromised vision, Mark could see the glare Connor gave him.  “This is what I want.  I’m tired of the same old stuff!” Connor insisted.

Mark rolled his eyes, and the frustrated action actually brought his attention to a compromise.  “Put that box back, Connor,” he directed while reaching toward another shelf.  He grabbed a package of assorted one-serving cereal boxes.  “Let’s get this instead.  It has a box of the Fruity Pebbles, as well as a variety of others for both of us.  Ok?”

“Fine,” Connor grumbled.  He shoved the box in his hand back on the shelf, but Mark still counted it a minor victory.

In the juice aisle Connor complained about getting the generic brand of juice because the store was out of their regular choice. 

In the soup aisle he insisted petulantly on getting three extra cans of chicken broth for a recipe he wanted to try.  Mark gave in despite knowing Connor’s desire to try a new recipe often waned when it actually came to making it.

In the coffee aisle Connor bemoaned their lack of a Keurig at home.

He criticized the price of meat when they picked out a roast for a weekend dinner.

And he grumbled about Mark being a health fanatic in the vitamin aisle.

By the time they hit the frozen foods section, Mark had a headache and very little patience left.

“I know ice cream and the frozen meatballs we like are on the list.  What else do we need in this aisle, Connor?”

In answer, Connor put the list in front of Mark’s face.  The blurred words and bratty behavior only pushed Mark a step closer to the end of his tolerance. 

“Connor,” he said harshly, and then took a breath and moderated his tone.  “I can’t see well yet.  I need you to read it to me.”

Connor groaned and tossed the list into the cart.  “I’ll just get the items myself.”

Mark stayed where he was, silently counting to ten while Connor gathered ice cream, meatballs, and a few other items from the freezers; he frowned when the groceries were placed in the cart though. 

“Connor, frozen waffles and two packages of burritos were not on the list.”

“How would you know?  I thought you couldn’t read the list,” Connor retorted.

And that was Mark losing the last of his patience.  He could see well enough to know they were alone in the aisle, and he took advantage of that solitude to grab Connor above the elbow, turn him, and smack the seat of his partner’s jeans with three stinging swats. 

“Enough with the attitude, Connor,” he insisted, his voice low and serious.  “It’s disrespectful and childish.  Now, just go out to the car while I go pay for our groceries.”

Connor’s wide-eyed look of shock slowly morphed into embarrassment and remorse as his head and shoulders slumped.  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned away and headed toward the exit.

Sighing, Mark watched him until he disappeared.  With a pounding head and an aching heart over the look on Connor’s face as he left, Mark put the unnecessary frozen food items back, and then headed to the checkout. 

Fifteen minutes later he pushed the cart outside and took a moment to remember where they had parked.  But as he got his bearings, his familiar blue SUV pulled up to the curb and Connor got out of the driver’s side. 

“Want some help,” his now remorseful husband asked humbly.

Mark nodded and offered a small but sincere smile.  “Yes, thank you.”

They loaded the silently, and Connor returned the cart to the others while Mark climbed in the passenger side and let his head fall back.  He felt the car shift as Connor got in the driver’s seat, and then a warm hand on his arm.  “Are you ok?”

“Just a headache,” Mark answered.  He heard a sigh from his husband just before the car started moving.

When they arrived home, Connor urged him toward the house.  I’ll get the groceries.  Go inside and lie down.  Mark didn’t argue.  Between his blurred vision and headache, he did want to just stop moving for a little while. 

The welcome dimness in the house and familiar smell of home was a relief as he sat in the recliner, stretched out, and closed his eyes.  He heard the sounds of Connor bringing the food in—the crinkle of plastic bags, the opening and closing of cupboards, and the sound of water running in the sink. 

After several minutes, Connor’s familiar touch on his hand had him opening his eyes.  He had a glass of water in his hand and two pills.

“Here, take some ibuprofen.”

Mark took them gratefully, and accepted the kiss Connor leaned down and offered after he swallowed the pills.  “Sorry about the grocery store,” he offered after the kiss, and Mark smiled. 

“I know, babe.”

Connor bit his lip.  “Um, am I in trouble for it?”

Mark considered it for just a moment, then carefully shook his head.  “No, I think we took care of it there, although next time I might spank you first just to remind you to behave.”

Connor flushed rather adorably, but his nod was rueful.  “I wouldn’t blame you.  I am sorry, and I’m going to make that recipe I mentioned in the store for you tonight, so you just relax until supper’s ready.  Ok?”

“Sounds good, babe.”

After another peck, Connor returned to the kitchen and Mark watched with affection.  That sweet man was the real Connor.  Thankfully they left the brat behind in frozen foods aisle.