26. Marisol
Marisol
A fter her session with Alice the day before, where she told her all about her mother’s behavior at dinner, Marisol was apprehensive to attend another—even if this dinner was supposed to be casual among friends.
Alice assured her this would be different, and Marisol would have a great time if she allowed herself to.
She tried to remember that as she exited her car, mentally preparing herself to go inside the restaurant.
They were going to meet somewhere Marisol had never heard of, but, according to her quick research, they sold decent subs and salads.
There was absolutely nothing to be nervous about, and yet she couldn’t help but think about everything that could go wrong.
She could say something dumb or not connect with another volunteer.
God forbid she accidentally said something that offended another person.
Those thoughts spiraled through her mind as she made her way to the hostess stand. The young Black teenager smiled at her. “Welcome to Soup’s House. Party of one? ”
“No, uh, I’m actually supposed to be meeting a group here. I’m not sure if they arrived yet,” she admitted.
“Do you know who the reservation would be under?”
“I think Stella?” She actually didn’t know. Normally, she would have this information, but it was a testament to how nervous she was.
The hostess clicked on her computer and then nodded.
“Your party is here. They are in our private room. Follow me.” She smiled and led Marisol through the restaurant.
It wasn’t prime dinnertime yet, but already the tables were full of couples and families.
The industrial feeling of the restaurant made the atmosphere relaxed yet professional.
The hostess stopped once they reached two gray sliding doors. She knocked first before opening them.
“Another member of your party is here!” she called and then looked back at Marisol. “Enjoy your meal.”
Four unfamiliar faces and Stella turned in her direction. Stella beamed, jumping up from her spot. “Marisol! I’m so happy you could make it!” She crossed the room and threw her arms around her.
Startled, Marisol awkwardly hugged her back. If Stella noticed her hesitation, she didn’t seem to mind.
“Let me introduce you to everyone,” Stella said, pulling back. “These two in the striped shirts are Paul and Antonio.”
One of the men waved. “I’m Antonio. Paul is my partner, who decided to match me today.”
Paul gasped, lightly shoving his partner. “Don’t believe him. I got dressed first, and he said he wanted to match. Not me.”
“His words were ‘that’s too gay even for me.’” Antonio rolled his eyes. “Men, am I right?”
The nerves she felt a moment ago slowly disappeared. Antonio and Paul were the type of people who could get along with everyone, a trait she envied. “It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled.
“The guy with green-and-black hair who looks like he just rolled out of bed is my husband, Blaine. And the cute pink fairy-looking woman is Izzy,” Stella finished.
Blaine reminded her of a lead singer from an early 2000s rock band.
He had the grunge look down, with his navy-blue shirt and ripped jeans.
His messy hair swooped across his forehead, obscuring his left eye from view.
He reminded her of Cisco a little bit, mostly because Blaine was also covered in tattoos.
He nodded in her direction. “Nice to meet the woman who was able to tame Snowball.”
“Oh my god, that was you?” a sweet, melodic voice asked.
Izzy turned to smile at her, and Marisol understood the fairy description.
Izzy looked like she just stepped out of a fairy tale with her frilly pink dress.
Her heart-shaped face and button nose only added to the effect.
“It’s so good to meet you. How’s Snowball doing? ”
“Really good. She has definitely made herself at home,” Marisol said, deciding to leave out Snowball’s escape fiasco.
“Come sit by me.” Stella led Marisol to an empty seat. On the table were a few appetizers. Spinach artichoke dip, finger sandwiches, and a large serving bowl of Caesar salad. “Feel free to eat anything. We like to get a bunch of appetizers and share.”
“Some of us share.” Antonio smirked, staring pointedly at his partner. “And some of us inhale like a human vacuum.”
“And I’ll do it again,” Paul said, unabashed.
“Honestly, it’s a little impressive how quickly you can make a basket of chips disappear,” Izzy chimed in.
Paul grinned, reminding her of a black-haired Ryan Reynolds. “It’s my specialty. ”
The banter between them was easy and lighthearted.
Marisol could tell they were more than just people who volunteered at the same shelter, but friends too.
None of them made her feel like the third wheel in an already established friendship.
In fact, she was the shiny new toy everyone wanted to know more about.
“So, what do you do for a living, Marisol?” Paul asked.
This was always an awkward question because she didn’t have a job.
People often looked down on her when she said that, though, thinking she lived off Daddy’s money.
And while that was mostly true, Marisol had been saving her own money since childhood, learning how to invest from her father.
Even without her father’s money—which she often told him he didn’t have to supply her, but he refused—she could still live her comfortable lifestyle.
“Well, I used to work at the family business. We run a winery,” she said.
“But I recently stepped back. I’ll help my dad occasionally.
Sometimes I’ll help my sister out at her bookstore, but…
that’s about it,” she finished lamely. She didn’t have much of a social life…
at least until she met Cisco. She enjoyed her life, but it did sound boring when she spoke about it to others.
But apparently not to this group. “Nice.” Blaine grinned. “I want to be a stay-at-home trophy husband, but Stella says I’m not pretty enough.”
“That’s not true.” Stella rolled her eyes but laughed.
The two of them looked like a cute goth couple you’d find in a Tim Burton movie.
“You are plenty pretty enough, but if anyone is going to be a stay-at-home spouse, it’s going to be me.
Then I could spend all my day with cats and dogs.
I prefer them over people…except for you all. ”
“Nice save, Ella.” Blaine laughed .
“Please tell me you aren’t grossly in love,” Izzy said to Marisol. “I can’t be the only one here that’s single.”
Just thinking about Cisco had her smiling, and that didn’t go unnoticed.
“Oh, she definitely has a boyfriend?—”
“Antonio!” Paul interrupted his partner. “Don’t assume her sexuality.”
“Oh, right, sorry. I hate when people do that to me,” he said sheepishly.
“No, it’s okay. I, uhm, do have a boyfriend. It’s new though. His name is Cisco,” Marisol said.
“No fucking way.” Blaine slapped the table, causing the dishes to rattle. Marisol jumped, startled by the outbursts and worried she might have said something wrong until he said, “Cisco the tattoo guy? The one who owns Golden City Tattoos? He’s damn good. I’m a little in love with him too.”
“Oh! That’s why he looked familiar!” Stella exclaimed. “When I”—she paused, offering Marisol an apologetic smile—“ran into him at your place, I swore he looked familiar.” Marisol was glad she didn’t expand on why Stella ran into him, since it was the night she lost Snowball.
Marisol only smiled as they continued to chat. She sipped on the water a waiter brought for her, shoveling some salad onto her plate. It was nice being out like this where there were no expectations. She didn’t have to be anyone other than herself.
Eventually, the conversation died down, and Stella took that as an opportunity to dive into the reason why they were all here. “So, let’s talk about fundraising.”
“Yes, please. And can we all agree that inviting the local marching band is a bad idea? The number of traumatized pets I had to soothe last year still haunts me.” Izzy shivered .
“No, we want to do something big to get the community involved. Our shelter needs the funds, especially if we want to raise money for the expansion,” Paul said.
Marisol cocked her head to the side. “Expansion?”
Stella nodded. “Yeah, the shelter is at capacity. We are a proud no-kill shelter, but we also can’t keep taking pets in because there’s no room. We have the land though to add extra kennel rooms.”
“Yeah, but the only problem is that we’re working with no money to put this fundraiser on. We just have us,” Blaine sighed as he pushed around a crouton on his plate. “I can’t paint faces another year in a row. I made that little girl cry, and I’ve never recovered.”
“It was a truly awful pony,” Paul said sympathetically.
“It was a bear!”
“Yikes.” Paul made a face before taking a sip of his water.
She pulled out a small pink notebook and pen from her purse and opened it to a new page. She titled the top “Shelter Fundraiser” and looked up, surprised to see five sets of eyes all looking at her. Never liking being the center of attention, she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.
“Sorry, I just work best when I write things down,” Marisol said to the table.
She expected looks of contempt, a response from years of disapproval, but that never came. If anything, everyone around the table scooted in closer, intrigued. Clearly she had the spotlight now.
“I’ve planned a few events for my family and their friends,” she said modestly. “I would love to plan this one. With all of your help, of course. I don’t want to overstep. But maybe if you could tell me things you’d love to see at a fundraiser. ”
“Keep in mind, we have no money. Hence the need for a fundraiser,” Izzy added.
But Marisol shook her head. One perk of having the last name Roberts was that people were eager to fulfill requests in hopes that strengthened their relationship with her family. “Let’s just say I know people.”
“You are officially the coolest person. If I were straight, I’d kiss you. With your consent, of course,” Antonio said, causing Marisol to laugh and Paul to smack his chest.
“Agreed. Minus the kissing part. You seriously are the coolest right now. I’m so glad we connected.” Stella reached for her arm and gently squeezed it.
Her touch felt…nice. Like a friend. Like maybe, after thirty years, she might have found a real, genuine friend group.
Everyone at the table listed things they wanted to see, ranging from dunk tanks, to face painting by a real artist, to food trucks. Marisol made a note of each suggestion. She couldn’t deliver on everything, but she already had ideas of contacts she could call.
“Do we have a date for this?” Marisol asked.
Stella bit her lip. “Ideally? A month from now.”
So, short notice. But she had worked under more limited time constraints in the past. It wasn’t impossible, but rather a challenge she liked to take on.
“That’s doable.” She heard the sighs of relief around the table as she made note of the date. Marisol looked over everything, knowing she had her work cut out for her. “I’m going to get started on this. I want to keep you all as informed as possible, so is there a good way to do that?”
Izzy nodded, her long, honey-colored hair bouncing in her enthusiasm. “We will add you to the group chat. Just be warned, it can get crazy. ”
“I think I can handle that.” Marisol grinned. Izzy handed her the phone, and she quickly typed in her number before handing it back. Izzy added her into the group chat.
“Everyone text her who you are so she can save the numbers,” Stella said.
“Oh, good idea. I hate getting thrown into group chats and having random-ass numbers texting me. Like who am I talking to? Marco from HR or the cutie from Cubicle 23,” Antonio said.
“I’m the cutie from Cubicle 23,” Paul said proudly.
All their texts came in at once, and Marisol half expected her phone to power off, never having seen this much engagement before. She saved their numbers and had to agree with Antonio. It was nice knowing who you were texting and not just seeing a random number.
“And with that, our monthly meeting has concluded. Same place next month?” Stella asked.
“Well, we probably want to meet a few more times between now and the fundraiser. So, let’s just check our calendars and wait for Marisol to give us updates?” Blaine suggested.
The table murmured their agreement and stood up.
Marisol quickly got out her purse, grabbing a twenty.
Before she could leave it on the table, Stella stopped her.
“Blaine’s dad owns the restaurant. He feeds us for free.
Oh! He might be a good person to ask about the fundraiser.
Maybe he’ll want a booth to sell food at. Blaine and I will talk to him.”
Shoving her wallet back in her purse, she got up and followed everyone outside. She found out quickly that she was amongst a hugging group because everyone hugged her goodbye and told her it was nice to meet her.
“I’ll text you soon, Marisol. Thanks again for your help. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it,” Stella said. Blaine started to lead her to the car but shot a smile over his shoulder, which she returned.
Marisol’s mouth hurt from smiling as she walked back to her car. Making friends as an adult was hard, and especially when it had never been her strong suit. But she thought maybe she just earned herself five new friends.
It was a pretty damn good feeling.