“Even though it may not look like it to you, we feel Deals Deals’s impact just as much as everyone else in our neighborhood. Some of our bakers have already left because they got jobs at the supermarket. We’re cutting back on expenses. We have one thousand leaks we can’t afford to fix now, all because we’re following the boycott your family started. And I’m not complaining,” he adds, putting his hands up to show he’s not trying to fight me with that last comment. “I agree with the boycott. We can’t give that supermarket any more business than they already get.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask.

“So you’ll quit trying to steal our clients. Play fair. It’s hard enough having to deal with Deals Deals.”

So much for getting an apology out of a Molina...

“Play fair? You’re the ones spreading lies about Salt!”

“How many times do I have to tell you we didn’t do that?”

“You did! Who else would have?”

Pedro leans back like he’s done with this conversation.

“It’s impossible talking with you,” he looks away.

“Likewise.”

We spend the rest of the trip sulking in angry silence. When we finally get to our stop, I exit quickly and begin to make my way home.

I only make it a few strides before hearing a thud behind me. I look over my shoulder. He’s dropped one box, and now he’s having a hard time picking it up while balancing the others, one leg extended to push the box closer to him.

I keep on walking. If a neighbor sees us, what will they think? That we’re suddenly friends? Friendly?

Another thud. I know another box has gone down without looking. Pedro curses.

I can’t help him. I can’t. I really—

I turn around with an annoyed grunt, every fiber of my being already regretting this.

Pedro’s hair is in his face as he juggles the boxes in his arms, but I see the surprise in his eyes when I pick one box up, place it on top of the box he’s already holding, and I grab the third one to carry myself.

“Where are we headed?” I ask.

He’s already looking defensive. “I don’t need help.”

“You’re going to risk damaging the food? I’ll take this one. You carry the others.” I stare at him. “Where are we going?”

Pedro thinks for a while, studying the situation.

“To the senior center.”

I follow him a few paces behind, making sure no one in our neighborhood notices that we’re together, going up and down the steep streets, past colorful houses with fruit trees in their gardens, the branches hanging off low walls.