He tossed the bag of marshmallows into Eve’s lap.
“Come on. Slide those puffy little ’mallows onto the stick.”
Eve wiggled herself upright in the chair, flipped the bag of marshmallows over and began scanning the back of the bag.
“These are basically like all sugar. Do you want me to get fat?”
Eve slumped back into the chair and dipped her head back.
She tossed the bag back at Silas, with a bit more force than appropriate for a short toss.
“Party pooper!” Silas said while shrugging his shoulders. He turned and held the bag out in front of Hazel.
“How about you?”
Hazel looked over at Eve. Her long legs stretched over the side, her hip bone popping out from the bottom of her shirt. Her back arched over the armrest, which pressed her breasts into the sky. Hazel was surprised Eve had to make any sacrifices at all for that body. Her beauty, her allure, always looked so natural on her.
Hazel looked back at Silas, who was now shaking the bag seductively in front of her. This firepit. These carefully chosen sticks. This warm, humid evening. His black hair. His full eyebrows. The charming look in his stirring green eyes.
Hazel snatched the bag from Silas’s hand, tore the plastic open and popped a marshmallow into her mouth.
“That’s my girl!” Silas rubbed the back of Hazel’s hair. And Hazel felt cool. And carefree. Like she belonged at the lake.
Silas grabbed a marshmallow, and then another one, and then another one, and slid them onto a stick. Hazel did the same, feeling rebellious by adding a third marshmallow, and then both Silas and Hazel held their sticks over the now calmer flames.
Hazel looked at Eve out of the side of her eye, hoping she was being watched, but Eve still had her head tilted back and her eyes closed and face toward the sky.
“The glowing logs are where it’s at. It’s where the heat is. It’s where you get that sweet golden brown.”
The wind picked up for a moment, creating a whirl of fire in the pit.
“See that. Don’t trust those flames. Too unpredictable. Too susceptible to the elements. They’ll burn you every time.”
Silas kept his focus on the flickering flames, until he pulled the stick back from out of the fire, three perfectly browned marshmallows stacked on the stick.
“Quick, we gotta get them on the grahams while they’re still gooey. Load up the rest of the s’mores!”
Hazel leaned her stick with her half-roasted marshmallows against the edge of the firepit and tore open the box of graham crackers and then the chocolate wrapper. She snapped a piece of chocolate from the edge.
“Ah, I just love that sound,” Silas said. Hazel knew he meant it. He said it right from his gut.
Hazel presented a graham cracker with the piece of chocolate on it to Silas.
“That, Hazel Box, is the perfect ratio of chocolate to graham. It’s a beautiful thing.”
Silas sandwiched his marshmallows between two graham crackers and slid the stick out. Hazel watched the chocolate begin to melt underneath the hot, drooping marshmallows.
He shuffled slowly toward Eve and then sat down next to her on the dirt. Eve peeked one eye open, skeptically.
“Yes?” she asked, drawing out the question.
“Oh, nothing. Just thought this was a good seat,” Silas responded with an overt lightness in his voice.
And then he aggressively bit into the s’more. The graham cracker broke awkwardly, leaving a big chunk of s’more with gooey marshmallow and melted chocolate hanging outside his mouth. Crumbs fell down into his lap as he struggled to get his mouth around the bite.
“Mmm!” Silas mumbled dramatically, leaning in toward Eve’s ear.
Eve squeezed her eyes tighter together as Hazel watched in amusement. She sat down on the edge of the firepit and tilted the marshmallows back over a glowing log.
“Mmm...mmm!” Silas mumbled even louder now. More crumbs rolled down the front of his shirt.
“Ugh, fine. Give me a bite of that already!”
Eve sat back up in the chair and Silas slowly raised the broken s’more to her lips. Just as she was about to take a bite, Silas shoved the whole piece of it into her mouth. Eve shrieked and instinctively slapped Silas on the shoulder. He laughed and laughed, his shoulders bouncing up and down, and it made Eve laugh, too. And then Hazel.
Eve chomped down on her s’more as Silas licked the sticky marshmallow and traces of chocolate from his fingers.
Silas and Hazel watched Eve until she swallowed the whole thing, ready for the histrionics to unleash.
Without saying a word, Eve walked over to Hazel and sat down next to her on the edge of the firepit. Eve laid her head onto Hazel’s shoulder and looked up at her with earnest, begging green eyes. She blinked twice, batting her eyelashes.
“What do you think about giving me one of those marshmallows?”
Hazel paused for a moment, smiled down at Eve and then nudged her hip into Eve’s, nearly pushing her off the side. She had been emboldened by the evening. The fire and Silas and the s’more and the evening and this whole week at the lake.
“What I think is that you should make your own marshmallow!”
Hazel almost didn’t recognize herself but those almost taunting but still lighthearted words felt so right coming off her lips. It occurred to Hazel that it must be a thing sisters can do with each other. It occurred to her that this could be her life. And she could be a confident, cool, competent, fire-making girl, sister, in that life.
Silas chuckled again and tossed Eve a stick. Eve held her eye contact with Silas, urging him to back her up.
“Don’t look at me, kiddo. The gals I know never give up their ’mallows.”
Eve rolled her eyes, sat harshly onto the edge of the firepit and tilted her marshmallow-lined stick over the fire.
Hazel finished making her s’more and took a big bite as she watched Eve roast hers.
She was happy. They were all happy.
At some point, Hazel, Silas and Eve found themselves draped in the darkness. But until then, there had been no sense of progression to mark the time. It didn’t get cooler or quieter. The crackle of the fire didn’t get louder and the flames didn’t get hotter. The moment was eternal and still.
Hazel looked over at the house. The lighted rooms had become a great illuminated stage with each window aglow. It surprised Hazel just how much she could make out from each window. Furniture and books and beds and nightstands. All except for one dark, evasive window. Just as the question of what was in that room began to bubble up inside of Hazel again, her thought was interrupted by a wet droplet on her arm.