Ethan never liked Sundays that involved ironing shirts. That alone usually meant something annoying was about to happen.
He was halfway through smoothing out the last sleeve when Claire's voice rang through the hallway like a fire alarm with parental authority.
"Everyone ready? We're leaving in ten!"
Ethan adjusted the cuff again. The crease still wasn't perfectly even. His OCD twitched. He reached for the iron one more time.
"Ethan!" Claire's second warning shot through the upstairs air.
He placed the shirt on the hanger with a sigh. Close enough.
Downstairs, the usual chaos had already begun: Haley frantically switching outfits because "this one says 'I care,' but not 'I'm desperate,'" and Luke trying to tape two Nerf guns together for what he called "maximum cousin defense."
Ethan didn't bother asking.
He entered the kitchen just as Phil pulled a tray of something that smelled like attempted banana bread out of the oven.
"Buddy!" Phil beamed, waving the spatula like a sword. "Did you know bananas are nature's pre-wrapped miracles?"
Ethan blinked. "No. But I had a hunch they were up to something."
Phil grinned wider. "Oh-ho! That's the spirit! Now remember, Jay doesn't like when we show up empty-handed, so we're bringing this… um… banana-based brick of affection."
Claire looked up from zipping a cooler bag. "It's for Gloria. She's the only one who'll pretend to like it."
Haley walked in, still fixing her hair. "Do I look effortlessly casual?"
Ethan looked at her, then at her heels. "You look like you might sue someone for stepping on your dog."
"Perfect," she said, satisfied.
Luke entered with the duct-taped Nerf contraption strapped to his back. "Mission 'Cousin Ambush' is a go."
Claire sighed. "No weapons. Even plastic ones. We're guests."
"You never let me live my dreams," Luke pouted.
As they filed into the minivan, Ethan tapped the door handle three times before sliding in.
The ride was noisy. Luke explained the intricacies of his "cousin ambush strategy," Haley retouched her eyeliner with every bump, and Phil tried to remember if Jay's house had "coaster protocol" or "free-range drink placement."
Ethan didn't talk much. He was busy thinking.
Jay's house always felt like a puzzle with pieces that didn't quite fit together—but somehow stayed stuck.
He still wasn't sure where he belonged in that picture.
The car pulled into the Pritchett driveway just as Gloria stepped out to greet them.
"¡Hola familia!" she called with open arms.
Phil rushed up with the banana bread. "For you, Gloria! A symbol of potassium and love."
She took the pan with a suspicious smile. "Thank you, Phil. I will… find a use for this."
Ethan trailed behind the rest, offering a small wave. "Hi, Gloria."
Gloria pulled him into a quick hug. "You get taller every time I see you. You'll be like a little giraffe with piano hands!"
Jay stood near the door, arms crossed, already skeptical.
"Hey, kid," he said. "You start shaving yet?"
Ethan shook his head. "Just the emotional layers."
Jay snorted. "You get that from Mitchell."
Inside, the house was already buzzing. Cam stood near the kitchen island with a tray of deviled eggs, describing them as "a Midwestern miracle kissed by paprika." Mitchell was already critiquing Jay's Wi-Fi setup.
Manny sat perfectly upright on the couch with a book titled The Existential Crisis of Literature. Ethan wasn't sure if that was real or just a cover Manny had designed himself.
Ethan found himself standing awkwardly in the hallway until he spotted her.
Alex.
She sat cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table, sorting through what looked like a jigsaw puzzle of Albert Einstein's face.
Ethan slid down next to her without a word.
"Hey," she said without looking up.
"Hey."
They placed puzzle pieces in silence for a minute.
Ethan finally said, "Why Einstein?"
"Because if I have to be around these people for more than two hours, I need something to remind me that intelligence still exists."
"Fair," Ethan replied.
She paused, then looked at him. "You okay?"
Ethan hesitated. "Yeah. Just… navigating."
Alex smirked. "Welcome to the family cruise. No map. No life vest. And Jay's the captain with a cigar instead of a compass."
He smiled a little.
She went back to the puzzle. "You know, most people ignore me at these things. Except when they need someone to reset the Wi-Fi."
"I don't like ignoring people," Ethan said simply.
She blinked. "That's weirdly nice."
"Thanks. You're weirdly nice too."
She laughed. "You're not as quiet as everyone thinks."
"Only when I want to be."
Alex tilted her head. "You should come sit with me more often."
He nodded. "Deal."
Claire's voice rang out from the kitchen. "Dinner's almost ready! Everyone to the table!"
Ethan stood, brushing invisible lint from his jeans.
Jay shouted, "If anyone's taking more than one empanada, it better be because you're over six feet tall or starving."
Ethan turned to Alex. "Which are you?"
"I'm emotionally starved," she said. "That count?"
They walked to the table together.
The dinner was predictably loud. Luke spilled lemonade. Haley recounted her dream where she got married on a yacht. Gloria demanded someone try her arepas. Cam told the same story about his college cheerleading days—for the third time.
Ethan didn't say much, but he watched.
Jay defended his meat carving skills like it was a court trial. Mitchell rolled his eyes and muttered, "I've seen better precision at a salad bar."
Claire tried to pass the salt, but it was intercepted by Luke, who then tried to turn it into a makeshift volcano.
Amid the noise, Alex leaned over and quietly slid the extra mashed potatoes toward Ethan.
"I know you like symmetry."
Ethan smiled. "Thanks."
She added a single pea to even it out. "Perfect balance."
That night, after everyone had said their goodbyes and Ethan finally made it to the quiet of his room, he sat on his bed with a notebook.
He didn't write music. Not this time.
He just wrote:
"Today, I didn't feel invisible. Not because I was loud. But because someone else was quiet with me."
He thought about Alex.
Then added:
"Some people match your silence. That's rare. And kind of amazing."
He closed the notebook.
Sometimes, family didn't need noise.
Sometimes, just being seen was enough.