11. Marisol
Marisol
E ven for a Sunday, Sunset Diner was unusually crowded.
Navigating between tables and weaving through the throng of diners felt like an Olympic event as Marisol hurried after the hostess.
She was convinced the hostess was practically sprinting to their table.
Of all days, she had chosen to break in her new boots today, and they punished her for it with every step, squeezing her feet uncomfortably as she jogged to keep up.
“Here you go. Your waitress will be with you soon,” she said and then disappeared back into the crowd before Marisol could thank her.
Not that she could blame the poor woman.
The line behind Marisol was out the door.
Sunset Diner’s food was good, but she wasn’t sure if they were line-out-the-door good.
Taking a seat at the table, Marisol pulled out her phone to see a text from her sister, Lola.
Today was their monthly “break shit” day, as Lola deemed it, where they would go to a rage room and break shit.
But Javi and Fabian were having a father-son day.
Marisol didn’t know what a father did with an infant for a father-son day, but things like that were important to her sister’s husband.
However, that left Camilia with Lola to have a mommy-daughter day.
Their first stop was having lunch with Marisol.
Parking. A billion people here. Will be in shortly.
Marisol read the text from her sister and was about to respond when another text came in.
Not from her sister this time, but Cisco.
Her heart skipped a beat before she opened the text.
He sent her a picture of him in front of a mirror wearing The Sinner’s Web shirt he randomly found in the back of his closet.
But that wasn’t what caught her attention.
It was his arms—his very muscular and tattooed arms—that awoke something primal deep within her.
He looked damn good. It was silly to miss a guy she barely knew and had seen yesterday, but she did.
She missed Cisco, which was largely due to last night being one of the best of her life.
She had looked at the picture Cisco sent of the two of them with the band at least a hundred times.
She almost set it as her phone wallpaper but was afraid someone in her family would notice and start to ask questions.
Questions she didn’t know how to answer yet.
Guess who is going to be playing the entire The Sinner’s Web album on repeat today and possibly piss Tiny off?
And Tiny is…?
My cousin. Lyana. You met her at the shop.
Ah, yes, her. Images of her nametag resurfaced from her time at the tattoo shop. She smiled at the thought of the teenager complaining to Cisco and the two having an all-out music war in the shop.
Before she could respond, another text from Cisco came through.
Last night was fun. I want to see you again soon, Princesa.
“What are you smiling at?” a familiar voice broke through her Cisco fog, and Marisol jumped, quickly blackening her screen. She looked up to see her sister approaching, tilting her head down to stare at Marisol as if she could will an answer out of her.
“Nothing,” Marisol said a little too quickly, which only made Lola raise her brow more. “Just a funny video I saw.”
“Hi, Tía!” Camilia smiled, coming up to hug her. The genuine excitement on her niece’s face always made her breath hitch. What would it be like if most people in her life looked as happy to see her as Camilia did? She certainly wouldn’t be as fucked up as she was.
“Before we sit, I want to see your tattoo.” She came around the table, looking put-together for a mom of two.
She wore tight jeans, showing off her curves that their mother always tried to hide or make Lola feel insecure about.
Her mother constantly bashed Lola for her size and put her on all kinds of crazy diets, which she would make Marisol do as well to keep her “thin and desirable” figure.
Both of them were working on that in therapy still.
“It’s mostly healed now.” She pulled up her dress slightly for her sister and niece to see.
Camilia gasped and reached out to gently touch Marisol’s tattoo. “She’s so pretty. Does it still hurt?” her niece asked curiously. “Mamá Lola always rubs special lotion on my cuts when I get hurt.”
Marisol’s features softened. “Well, that’s because you have a good mommy.”
“Oh, yes, she’s the best. And I have the best daddy too,” Camilia said before claiming one of the chairs at the table for herself.
“It does look beautiful. I’m so glad you went through with it.” Lola took a seat next to her daughter.
“Thank you for setting it up and paying for it. You didn’t have to do that,” Marisol said.
Lola just waved her words away. “It’s your birthday. I was happy to. Besides, I've never really given you anything big for your birthday. It was past time.”
The waiter took this opportunity to come by and ask for their drink order, dissolving the awkwardness Marisol felt over her sister’s comment. Lola ordered a Coke Zero, Camilia opted for juice, and Marisol said water, even though coffee sounded much better.
“So, what else did you get for your birthday?” Lola asked once their waiter left.
Marisol had a brief moment where she wondered if she should tell Lola about Cisco and going out to a concert last night.
It hadn’t technically been for her birthday, but it was close enough.
A big part of her wanted to keep Cisco a secret for now.
Something only for her until she figured out where Cisco would fit into her life and if he even stayed in her life.
So, she shrugged. “I ordered takeout. Caught up on a few shows. Mrs. Baker gifted a beautiful pair of earrings. Dad sent me a flower arrangement, and Mom…bought me a gold membership at my gym.”
Lola scoffed. “Typical Mom response. I swear, that woman…” she trailed off, turning to look at Camilia, who stared at her wide-eyed.
Unlike her daughters, Camilia loved her grandmother. Lola and Marisol were fiercely protective over Camilia and made sure their mother didn’t pull the same shit on Camilia she did to them as kids. Their mother didn’t see her grandkids often but was usually on her best behavior when she did.
“Anyway, I’m glad you had a good birthday. Did you spend it with any of your friends?” Lola quickly changed the subject in hopes Camilia wouldn’t pry too deeply about Grandma. Her sister had made it very clear she wanted her daughter to make her own judgments.
“They were busy, which was fine. It was nice to spend the day by myself,” Marisol said. It was only half a lie. She did enjoy not being bothered by anyone, but she didn’t want to admit to her sister that she had no friends outside of Lola.
Her sister was smart, though, and had always been able to read her better than anyone in her family.
Lola pursed her lips, and Marisol knew she was in for a lecture.
Thankfully, she was spared by the waiter, who came by again to take their order.
Both Camilia and Lola ordered banana pancakes, and Marisol ordered a veggie omelet with turkey bacon, pretending to not notice her sister’s reproachful glare at her food choice.
Not that Marisol could blame her. Turkey bacon kind of sucked, but Marisol was a creature of habit. She had always ordered this and didn’t have the mental energy to choose something else.
Once their waiter left, Marisol was no longer safe from her sister and whatever she had brewing in her head. “Your friends are busy often,” she mentioned casually, baiting Marisol like a trained fisherman.
“Our schedules don’t align.” She shrugged.
“They never seem to unless it’s an event where all Mom’s friends will be. Ever think that you may want to consider new friends?”
Oh, Marisol considered that quite often.
The problem was that making friends as an adult was hard.
Especially when she didn’t go to work, have any hobbies that involved other people, or go out to bars.
Did people even meet friends at bars? She was so far removed from social life, she wouldn’t even know where to go to make friends.
Maybe thirty-year-olds hung out at Michael’s or Target.
“You’re alone a lot, Tía,” Camilia said, adding salt to the open wound. She spoke with all the innocence only a child could possess, so really Marisol couldn’t be too wounded.
“She’s not wrong, you know.” Lola’s words weren’t unkind, but it did little to squash the embarrassment—and resentment—brewing inside her.
It was easy for her sister to say things like that.
She spent her whole life making connections outside the family while Marisol was forced to grow up fast and learn how to make herself into a pretty accessory her mother could tote around at will.
Needless to say, there wasn’t a lot of time to make friends.
“I think I have a solution for you though,” Lola went on.
“Oh, do you?” Marisol was unable to keep the bite out of her tone. If Lola or Camilia noticed, neither commented on it.
“I do. I was taking Fabian to his doctor appointment yesterday, and the nurse and I got to talking. She mentioned that, on the weekends, she volunteers at the animal shelter. You know the one off Sulphur Springs Road?”
“Yes,” she said tentatively, not sure if she liked where this conversation was headed.
“Well, they are having a free pet adoption next weekend because they are at capacity. I think you should go check it out and get?—”
“I’m going to stop you there,” Marisol said, putting her hand up.
“There is no way I’m bringing a dog home.
Do you understand how labor-intensive a dog is?
I’ll have to take it out multiple times a day.
Forget traveling. I’d have to be home to let the dog out and feed it.
And there’s no way I’m picking up dog poop. Besides, dogs don’t like me.”
“That’s not true. You don’t like dogs. Which is fine,” Lola said quickly before Marisol could interrupt. “I wasn’t talking about a dog though. I feel like you would do well with a cat.”
“A cat?”
“Yes, maybe a kitten, though they are a lot of work,” Lola said.
“Mamá Lola, are we going to get a dog?” Camilia asked cutely, just as their food came. Marisol’s veggie omelet looked drab compared to their sweet, buttery pancakes.
“Your father wants one soon, but I want Fabian to be a little older,” she said before looking back at Marisol. “You like cats. This could be a good thing.”
She had one cat sweatshirt as a preteen, and she was still not living it down.
“I like the thought of a cat,” she mumbled.
But the real thing? She’d have to clean the litter box, take it to the vet, and make sure it had food and water.
Granted, these things were much easier to do than caring for a dog, but it still seemed like a big commitment.
But, on the other hand, it might be nice not to come home to an empty condo day after day. A pet would have no choice but to like her. Probably.
“You should at least go. What’s the harm in checking it out?” Lola asked, dabbing at the syrup running down her pink lips .
“I guess I could check it out…if I don’t have anything else going on.” She didn’t, but Lola didn’t need to know that.
Her answer pleased her sister because Lola grinned and got out her phone. “Okay, I’m going to text you all the info. And for once, don’t tell Mom you are thinking about getting a pet. You know she’ll just talk you out of it if she knows.”
Just like their mom denied them pets growing up, not wanting to take care of another “thing.”
“I rarely call Mom up to chat.” And this would be one thing she definitely wouldn’t mention if she did.
A moment later, her phone buzzed as Lola’s text came in. “Pet Adoption Extravaganza” flashed in gaudy colors across her phone. These people seriously needed to hire a better graphic designer.
The “Extravaganza” would take place next weekend with promises of free dogs and cats, though donations were welcome. Apparently they had well over three hundred pets all looking for their “fur-ever home.”
Was she seriously considering doing this?