18. Marisol
Marisol
My feet are sore. You think it’s because of how many times you stepped on them?
Excuse me? That was one time, and it’s only because you have giant feet.
Well, you know what they say about big feet. Big d…
Finish that and I’ll block your number.
Big dumb shoes. What did you think I was going to say?
You’re lucky you’re cute.
Just cute?
……..
Okay, okay. Don’t admit it. I’ll admit I miss you, Princesa. I’m seeing you this weekend. Tell Snowball I’ll see her soon.
W hen the phone rang again, Marisol had just stepped out of the shower, tying her fluffy pink towel around her body. Snowball was curled up in her sink, sleeping soundlessly. Her white tail brushed against Marisol’s phone with each lazy sway.
She could only laugh. Didn’t she just finish talking to him an hour ago? It thrilled her that any spare moment he got, Cisco’s first instinct was to call her. Without checking, Marisol answered her phone, putting it on speaker so she could dry off.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?” She laughed.
There was a pregnant silence on the other end of her phone before a very different voice than Cisco’s greeted her. “I’m not sure what meeting you’re referring to, but no.”
Marisol’s mother’s voice filled her bathroom.
Not even Snowball was immune to the sound of Luciana Roberts’ contempt.
She jumped off the counter and retreated into the bedroom, just as Marisol wished she could do.
Silently, she cursed herself for answering the phone without checking to see who was calling.
“Mom. Hi,” she said breathlessly, wishing the cell phone towers all over California would spontaneously combust so she’d have an excuse to drop the call.
“Were you expecting someone else?” her mother asked in a way that hinted she knew more than she was letting on, but how was that possible? The only person in her family that sort of knew about Cisco was Lola, but even she didn’t know much. Not that she spoke to their mother much anyway.
“No, sorry, you just caught me off guard.”
“Off guard?” her mother scoffed. “What was it you were doing?”
Marisol gritted her teeth, taking deep breaths. “Just got out of the shower. Is there something you need?” she asked with forced patience Alice would be proud of.
“No need for the attitude, dear. I’m simply calling to invite you over on Friday for family dinner.”
Ignoring the comment about her attitude, Marisol quickly scrambled for an excuse to get out of it.
This weekend she wanted to reserve for Cisco, and she’d much rather spend time with him than suffer through an awkward family dinner.
The thought of it made her stomach twist—enduring endless jabs about her appearance and the inevitable mention of Archie.
Her mother would press for details, prying relentlessly until Marisol was forced to come up with a reason to escape.
It was always easier to refuse over the phone, where distance gave her a layer of protection. But standing just feet away, face to face, made it infinitely harder to hold her ground.
“This weekend? I…I wish you would have told me earlier. I’m busy.”
“Surely that can change?” her mother challenged. “After all, Lola and Javi will be here. Along with my grandchildren. It wouldn’t seem right not to have my eldest daughter here too. I would love to invite Archie, but seeing as you two are…not on the best terms, I’ll be happy with just you coming.”
Pretending her mother didn’t mention Archie, she focused on the fact that Lola was coming.
It was a rare day in hell when Lola agreed to be in the same room as their mother—or, as she called it, “exposure therapy.” She felt compelled not to leave her sister there alone to fend for herself.
Sure, she had her husband and their father…
but Marisol was her big sister. A shitty sister, but still.
She felt the least she could do was suffer alongside Lola.
It didn’t make sense but somehow eased her regret.
“Maybe I can move things around?—”
“That’s so good to hear, dear. I knew you’d make the right choice. I’ll see you on Friday.” Without waiting for a response, her mother hung up, leaving Marisol flustered.
“Wonderful,” she muttered, placing her phone back on the counter.
The old Marisol would have let that one interaction ruin the rest of her day. She wouldn’t have even bothered getting dressed and would have gone straight back to bed.
Before her mother called, though, she had planned on giving Stella from the shelter a call. After her last session with Alice, she felt confident in her decision to volunteer. She still wouldn’t consider herself a pet person—besides Snowball—but it would be a nice way to meet people.
She finished up in the bathroom, pulling on silk red shorts and a black Sinner’s Web shirt.
She put her hair in a loose braid before leaving her bathroom and heading to her living room.
Snowball meowed at her when she sat down on the couch.
She waited on Marisol to wrap herself up with a fuzzy blanket before moving to sit on her lap.
“Where did I put her number?” Marisol wondered out loud, doing a quick search of her coffee table before finding the crumpled-up paper with Family Pet Shelter’s number on it. A picture of a cartoonish man and woman holding a dog and cat smiled up at her.
“They seem happy,” she said to Snowball .
Snowball just blinked at her and then put her head down, promptly falling asleep.
“Right, I’m on my own,” she muttered and ran her finger over the numbers. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed call and put the phone to her ear.
Each ring made her heart pound faster. Not only did she hate talking on the phone, but she hated talking on the phone to strangers.
She always felt awkward and felt the need to fill in any silence with ramblings.
Suddenly, the phone stopped ringing, and loud barks assaulted her ear, followed by a cheery voice.
“Thanks for calling Family Pet Shelter; this is Stella. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Stella. This is Marisol Roberts. We actually met the other day. I don’t know if you remember me?—”
“Marisol! Yes, you adopted Snowball. How’s she adjusting?” Stella asked, genuinely curious.
The cat in question happily lounged across Marisol’s lap like she owned the damn house. Affection for the white furball swelled in her chest as she petted the top of her head. Snowball purred immediately.
“I would say she’s adjusting very well. Like she’s always been here.”
Stella laughed good-naturedly on the other end. “Yup, that about sums up cats. Once they find their person, they are locked in for life.”
“Thank you again for helping me with the adoption,” Marisol said. “I was actually calling about the volunteering you mentioned. I’m wondering if you still need volunteers?”
“Desperately!” Stella said. There was shuffling on her side, and then a door closed, blocking out most of the barking. “We have many areas we still need help in. What skills do you have?”
“Oh, uhm, I’m organized,” she said lamely, not realizing she would be interviewed on the spot. “Planning and delegating. I also am good at both written and verbal communication. I have a lot of contacts in a lot of different fields.”
“Contacts?” Stella asked, intrigued. “Like contacts who may or may not be interested in donating to a good cause?”
If there was one thing her parents’ “friends” were good for, it was giving away money that would make them look like good people.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve helped organize a few donation galas, and they are all eager to outbid each other,” Marisol said.
“Wow. I think you just became my best friend. I’ve been wanting to put some sort of fundraiser together for the shelter, but I’m in over my head. I’m good at loving on pets, but trying to put something together of that magnitude honestly leaves me curled up in a ball.”
Marisol knew how stressful it could be. Every tiny detail needed to be planned, and any mistake reflected poorly on the person who organized the event.
She wasn’t sure if it was all the years of constantly striving for perfection or the countless hours she spent organizing her schedules, but she loved planning events.
Anything from large galas to raise money for whatever charity her parents were interested in at the moment to the baby shower she planned for Lola.
It made her feel good to see people enjoying something she put together.
“We can talk about your goals for the event, and I can start drafting ideas,” Marisol suggested.
“I would love that. We will be meeting next Tuesday. Would you be able to make the meeting? I can introduce you to the rest of our team, and we can discuss the fundraiser.” Marisol couldn’t see Stella, but she imagined the petite woman bouncing excitedly in her chair.
She gave off golden retriever energy, which contrasted greatly with Marisol’s black cat energy.
But even black cats needed their people.
“Sure. I’ll be there,” she said.
“Great! Marisol, I can’t thank you enough for calling me back. I think you are going to be a great addition to the team. Is this a good number to text you from?” Stella wondered.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Great. I’ll text you the info. Oh, we usually meet at a restaurant downtown. Super chill, and everyone can order what they like. Anyway, I’ll text you all this information. Thanks again for reaching out. I’m excited to get to know you more.”
“I’m excited too.” And she was, which was the weird thing. She genuinely looked forward to meeting these people and offering her expertise.
Stella thanked her again profusely and promised to send over the information as soon as they got off the call. Marisol hung up, feeling something akin to pride growing in her chest. This was another step in taking charge of her own life and making her own decisions.
Granted, she never thought taking charge would bring her to an animal shelter, but she liked it. If the rest of the volunteers were half as nice as Stella, she figured she’d get along with them well enough. Maybe even make friends who weren’t affiliated with her parents at all.
“I did it, Snowball. Think Alice would be proud of me?” she murmured, rubbing her cat’s head. Snowball purred, licking her hand as if to say good job, Mom.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand with an unfamiliar number.
It was Stella with the information about the meeting.
It was held at an unfamiliar location, but she was excited to try out something new.
Usually, she stayed with her “safe” restaurants.
Places she’s been hundreds of times and could order the same thing without looking at the menu.
“After that, I deserve some wine,” Marisol said, moving from under Snowball, who yipped before jumping off her lap. She got up and headed to the kitchen where she stored her small wine fridge. After selecting one of her father’s wines, she poured herself a glass.
Her mind wandered to Cisco and what he was doing right now.
It was strange to miss someone you just saw, but there was an unfamiliar ache in her chest that hadn’t been filled since last night.
The strong connection forming between them both scared and excited her.
She didn’t think anyone had ever made her heart beat as fast as Cisco had.
He could barely touch her, and already she felt like she could melt into a puddle at his feet.
Marisol took her wine and sat on the couch, deciding to spend a lazy day inside. Before she knew it, she was eight episodes deep into Love is Blind and dozing off.
Her condo went dark, only the glow from the TV providing any light. After hours on the couch, her body hurt—the joys of turning thirty and getting weird aches and pains in parts of your body you didn’t know existed.
After pushing herself off the couch, Marisol went to her living room window, cracking it ajar to let the cool night air into her apartment like she normally did when the weather was nice. She called for Snowball, but the cat stayed curled up on the couch.
“Suit yourself,” she muttered and walked back to her room.
Her head barely hit the pillow before she fell fast asleep.