A Seat at Marisol's Table
Chapter 13 - A Seat at Marisol's Table
Ethan returned two days later.
Marisol did not ask questions.
She simply put a plate of food in front of him.
For the first time since Lily died, Ethan ate a home-cooked meal at a family table.
Marisol's daughter, Sofia, came over that evening.
At thirty-one, she had grown up believing Aunt Lily was the selfish woman who abandoned everyone.
Now she learned she had a cousin.
At first, the meeting was awkward.
Then Sofia noticed Ethan putting hot sauce on everything.
She laughed.
“My mom does that.”
Marisol protested.
“Your mother did it too,” she said, looking at Ethan.
Something shifted.
The resemblance between Ethan and Lily was not only in old photographs.
It was in gestures.
In jokes.
In the way he tilted his head before disagreeing.
Marisol had lost her sister.
But fragments of Lily were sitting at her table.
Later, Thomas arrived.
He did not enter.
He stood on the porch.
Ethan found him there.
“I've been thinking,” Thomas said.
“That sounds dangerous.”
Thomas smiled.
It was their first joke.
Then Thomas became serious.
“I can't give you nineteen years back.”
“No.”
“I can't fix what my parents did.”
“No.”
“But I can be here tomorrow.”
Ethan looked at him.
“And the day after that.”
Thomas continued.
“If you'll let me.”
Ethan did not answer immediately.
Finally he opened the door wider.
“Marisol made too much food.”
From the kitchen, Marisol shouted, “I heard that.”
Thomas laughed.
He stepped inside.
Dinner was uncomfortable.
Messy.
Emotional.
Real.
It was the closest thing Ethan had experienced to a family gathering in years.
Then Thomas's phone rang.
His daughter Rachel was calling.
Thomas had told her everything.
And Rachel was on her way.
She wanted to meet the brother she never knew she had.
May you like
But her first words when she entered Marisol's house were not what Ethan expected.
“I don't believe you.”
