The Marshmallow Roast

“So, I know we spend so much time together here that you’re probably sick of me, but I wanted to invite you to my house tomorrow night for supper.” Evangeline let out a sharp exhale as she finished, like she'd been holding her breath a long time.

Sebastian blinked at her from across the table, noting her increasing agitation and embarrassment the longer he delayed his reply. Unfortunately, she had begun just as his teeth closed around a forkful of bison and he was now in the awkward position of deciding which breach of etiquette would be worse.

Before he had time to swallow, or even a reasonable chance to try speaking with his mouth full, she blurted, “I mean, if you’re not busy, of course. And if you’re not actually sick of me.”

“I’d be delighted! Supper sounds wonderful! Thanks!” Alex Shepherd interjected and smiled toothily.

Evangeline let out a nervous squeak and bit her lower lip. “Oh, uh, I…actually…”

Alex shook his head. “Relax, I knew who you were talking to.”

Sebastian finally swallowed his food. “Of course I’m not sick of you, Eva. That’d be great. Would you like me to bring anything?”

“Oh, no! I’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is tell me what you’d like.” Evangeline produced a piece of folded, laminated cardboard from her backpack and handed it over to Sebastian, who studied it quizzically.

“Uh, this is the Allegheny Grill menu,” he noted.

“Oh, yes. I started waiting tables there, and I asked them if I could bring home meals every so often if they took it out of my paycheck,” Evangeline explained. “Do you dislike their food?”

“No, not at all. I think their food is good. It's just that I, um, thought you were going to cook,” Sebastian replied.

Evangeline's freckled cheeks turned red and she let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I’d never do that to you."

~*~

Sebastian stood on Evangeline’s porch dressed in gray slacks and a cream-colored dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, underneath a suede dress jacket, a favorite of his wardrobe. All in all, his outfit was not greatly different than the sort of clothes he usually wore at St. Bonaventure. The main difference was in the care he took with it: pants neatly pressed, close-shaved face, hair combed and styled, a touch of cologne. At school he dressed to meet the minimum requirements, tonight he dressed to look handsome. His left hand held a bouquet of daisies, the cheapest blooms he could purchase. Before ringing, he took a closer look around at the neighborhood. He did not see her father’s car, which excited him.

Evangeline answered the ring of the doorbell almost immediately. She was a striking sight in her hip-hugging, ankle-length floral dress, orange heels and glittering earrings. She wore her hair pulled back in a neat bun, with only a few bouncing strands of red spiraling down over her forehead and her temples. She looked like a totally different woman, and Sebastian was almost humbled by her elegance and beauty. Almost.

“My God, Miss Garver!” he gasped. “You look almost as good as me.”

She laughed. “You flatter me, Mr. Pereira.”

Sebastian presented her the bouquet, and she accepted it with glee. “Thank you! They’re beautiful! But I told you not to bring anything.”

He shrugged. “What kind of dinner guest would I be if I didn’t?”

“You’re early,” she said, but she did not look or sound disappointed. “I hoped you would be! Now we have some time to talk before my dad comes home.” She tugged him in by the wrist and shut the door. The house was warm, but Sebastian was feeling hot.

“So, your dad will be joining us.” Sebastian tried to make it sound like that was what he expected all along and was merely looking for confirmation. With some luck, Evangeline might even perceive it as him being considerate of her reputation, rather than the bleak disappointment and consternation that it actually was.

She nodded as she led him deeper into the narrow townhouse and offered a seat on the living room sofa. The house was smaller than what he imagined, primarily relying on his own home as a reference, but its tasteful and uncluttered furnishings made it feel cozy rather than cramped. Either Evangeline had done a lot of preparatory cleaning beforehand, or Sebastian comparatively lived like a pig. He plopped down on the end of the sofa and waited until Evangeline returned from the kitchen with the flowers in a glass vase. She placed them in a position of honor on the coffee table and sat down very gently and ladylike on the middle cushion beside him.

“My dad would kill me if I had a boy over when he wasn't around. And he'd find out, too." She added playfully, "All it takes is one nosy neighbor, and there goes your reputation. No decent young man would want to be seen with me again!"

Sebastian smirked. “Your virtuousness is admirable, Eva, but I think you might be exaggerating just a tiny bit.”

Evangeline shrugged and her voice took on a more serious tone. “Maybe things are different here. But where we last lived in Deseret, everybody noticed things like that, and word got around fast.”

“That sounds terrible,” Sebastian said.

Evangeline chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t like the Transnistrian Secret Police or anything. I don’t know, maybe it’s a good thing. Most of the people were pretty well behaved out there.”

Abruptly, the tone and topic changed.

“Sebastian, thank you so much for coming. I know we’re not, um, dating or anything and it may seem a little weird to come here and have dinner with my dad and me, but I’ve mentioned you a bunch of times and he insisted that he meet you. He gets very curious about the company I keep. I don’t want him to get upset over nothing and forbid me to hang out with you, or something extreme like that.”

Throughout her speech, Sebastian’s temples pounded like the drumbeat of doom. He did his best to take it in stride, however.

“Eva, I’m honored that you invited me. Your father just sounds like he’s being a father. I totally understand why he’d want to protect his daughter.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but Sebastian was not nearly as comfortable with the scenario as he made it sound. And he must have made it sound convincing, too, considering Evangeline’s reaction.

“No, you don’t understand,” Eva said, bowing her head. “I guess what I mean is that my dad can be very overbearing. And abrasive. And critical. In fact, he’s kind of a jerk.” She grabbed Sebastian’s hand and looked him square in the eyes as she emphasized: “Sebastian, he’s going to be mean to you. He’s going to ask you all kinds of nosy questions and say all kinds of things that are going to make you mad, but please, please, please, for my sake, don’t let it get to you. And try not to hate either of us after this is all over.”

Sebastian couldn’t help laughing, but it was the humor of the gallows. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, which suddenly felt very tight despite being unbuttoned. “What did you get me into here, Eva?”

“It’s exhausting to be cooped up here every night, but if we can put him at ease, he’ll let me off the leash a little bit. And I really need to get out of this house more often, and not just for school and CYO!” she replied.

Sebastian nodded and steeled himself for the coming struggle. He hoped he hadn’t entirely lost his appetite. He saluted her and said, “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

“Thank you! Now, tell me how you got that.” Evangeline pointed to his forehead, where the scar from the impact with the cinder block was visible beneath his bangs. He’d gotten it stitched and it was healing well, but there was no hiding it.

Sebastian laughed. “I already told you, I got hit with a brick.”

“Seriously, Sebastian! My dad’s going to notice it, and if you give a smart aleck answer like that, he’s not going to think it’s funny. He’ll think you’re a thug!”

“Uh, Eva, I really did get hit with a brick,” he said.

Her eyes went wide. “Well then you definitely can’t tell him that! Make up something, quick!”

“Relax. I’ll just say that I… fell from my bike. How’s that?”

“Bicycle,” she corrected. “If you say bike, he might think motorcycle.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling. “Alright then…” but his voice trailed off into an inarticulate yell, and he leaped to his feet in sudden terror. As he stood flat against the wall catching his breath, the frightened white cat that had been catapulted off his lap scurried over to Evangeline and stared back at him in fluffy-eyed fear.

“Oh my gosh, are you alright?” She stood up, cradling and stroking the cat as she revealed it to him. “It’s OK, it was just Marshmallow! You’re not afraid of cats, are you?”

Sebastian had the good grace to look embarrassed. He shook his head unsteadily. Afraid of cats? Him? Not exactly, though he had obviously not fully gotten over encountering a ‘werecat’ in Hazelwood last weekend.

“I’m really sorry, I don’t know why I yelled like that. He just startled me,” Sebastian apologized.

“Oh, I can put him in his pen for the rest of the night if he bothers you,” Evangeline offered.

“No, no! It’s his house, not mine!” Sebastian reached out to pet him, hopefully making amends for his rude greeting. “I’m sorry, buddy… what did you say his name was?”

“Marshmallow.” She moved his front paw to wave at Sebastian and added, in a silly voice, “Sorry to frighten you, sir. I know that I’m an impressive cat!”

“You sure are, Marshmallow. And so puffy and fluffy! You remind me of a puppy I used to know! He was my best friend when I was a boy.” Sebastian said.

“I didn’t know you had a dog!” Evangeline said. “What was his name?”

Sebastian hesitated, a little embarrassed. “His name was Fwuffers, actually. He was a big white Husky and he shed all the time.”

“Fwuffers!” Evangeline squealed. “What an adorable — !” But she stopped abruptly, and her head turned to the doorway at the sound of feet scuffling on the steps. Sebastian’s eyes lingered on her, and he noted the expression of barely restrained dread on her face and the way she swallowed heavily as the latch to the deadbolt turned.

In walked her father, tall, svelte, and grumbling. He scowled as he unbuttoned his long brown trench coat and slammed the door shut with his foot. “You brought dinner home, I smell,” he said without turning around. There was such a profound cheerlessness to his voice that Sebastian almost wanted to laugh.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked as he walked into the living room, then blinked in surprise at Sebastian.

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders as if it could help him bear the weight of the older man’s gaze. Her father stared at him forever, measuring and weighing him. Then, with the way the man’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead and the slow, disgusted way he let out his breath, he delivered his judgment.

“Who’s this?” he asked, turning to his daughter.

“D-dad, this is Sebastian,” she squeaked. “You said we should have him over for dinner. Remember?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I remember.”

‘Better late than never,’ thought Sebastian. He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from scowling.

“Sebastian, this is my dad, Matthew.”

“Oh, he can call me Mr. Garver,” Matthew laughed.

Sebastian winced, but he forced a flimsy smile and extended his hand just the same. “It’s good to meet you. Mr. Garver.” Matthew Garver seized Sebastian’s hand the way a gorilla might, and held it still instead of shaking it.

“Welcome to my home, Sebastian… ?”

“Pereira.”

Matthew finally released his grip on the younger man’s hand. His eyes shifted to the kitchen, then over to his daughter as he stroked his thick blond beard thoughtfully. “So recipes from the back of a soup can are good enough for your dad, but not the boys at school, eh?”

Evangeline took the slight in stride. Indeed, she laughed along with her father. “Told you I wasn't much of a cook,” she said to Sebastian.

“Oh well,” Sebastian said, and he winked at her. “Everybody’s got to have one flaw, I guess.” She smiled at him bashfully.

The food, complements of the Allegheny Grill, was tasty if a bit drier than usual from being reheated. At any rate, it was a lot better than the table conversation. Sebastian was a fast eater, but he had to field so many questions he was worried his dinner would get cold. Questions about everything from where he lived to what his father did for a living and how he planned to make a living himself, each phrased and received judgmentally. Matthew even asked him, point blank, if he’d ever been arrested.

“Dad!” Evangeline exclaimed, her first words of protest against the increasingly inquisitorial proceedings.

Sebastian tried to play to his strengths of wit and humor. “Only once, but I was eventually acquitted.” Unfortunately, the jest did not go over well. In fact, all of his jokes fell flat. Eva was too upset or cowed by her father to laugh, and Matthew wasn’t amused. Sebastian felt both insulted and suffocated. Twenty five minutes into the meal, his appetite had evaporated and every bite was drudgery.

Something else bothered him, too. Sebastian had a vague feeling that he’d run into Matthew Garver before. He tried desperately to remember the context, wondering if the man’s relentlessness was brought on by more than just protectiveness of his daughter. Had he seen Sebastian doing something unseemly? Had Sebastian insulted him? There must be something.

Eventually it clicked mid-way through one of Matthew’s brief comments about his work advising Seneca Gas on a new shale oil extraction project. He was a mining engineer by trade.

“Excuse me, Mr. Garver,” Sebastian interrupted him in the middle of his story. “Are you the same Matthew Garver that worked with Geo Templeton?”

Matthew slowly set down his fork and wiped his lips on a napkin. “I worked alongside George Templeton, yes.”

“You were in the Compass Society!” Sebastian almost slammed his fist on the table in excitement. “You were on the Cibola expedition in Mojave! And you helped design the Subterrene, if I recall correctly.” Sebastian felt enormously pleased with himself. Not only was he guiltless of having offended this man previously, he now had a bond to connect with him. Sebastian was not an approval seeker, and he normally detested the thought of ingratiating himself with someone who obviously didn’t like him, but he felt obligated for poor Eva’s sake. Besides, maybe the old man wasn’t so bad after all. If Sebastian had been a member of the Compass Society, he’d probably look down on some boring, know-nothing schlub trying to date his daughter, too. For a mad instant, Sebastian even considered revealing that he was a superhero.

“Well, you sound like you’re very familiar with the Compass Society,” Matthew replied flatly.

Evangeline went rigid. She stared across the small table at Sebastian, her eyes wide with alarm. She clenched her jaw and tried to warn him off by shaking her head, but he didn’t notice.

“Of course! I have Terra Incognita journals going back years!”

“And what a coincidence that you remember me, of all people.” Matthew’s voice was sardonic, and he looked disapprovingly at his daughter. Eva wilted under his gaze.

“No, honestly!” Sebastian protested. “I remember particularly because the Cibola Expedition was in the same volume as Doc Strange’s trip to Pellucidar. That was my favorite as a kid. I knew I recognized you, too, because I remember there was a photo of you in the cockpit of the Subterrene. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like; to go places like that, to work with Rex Hazzard and Geo Templeton. Did you ever meet the Promethean?”

If anything, Matthew Garver looked more displeased that Sebastian’s enthusiasm was sincere and not coached by his daughter. “It sounds like you think very highly of those adventurers — those superheroes like Strange and the Promethean.” He pronounced the word ‘superheroes’ with unmistakable contempt.

Sebastian was baffled. “Well, I mean I don’t know any of them personally or anything, but… yes, I guess I do.”

Matthew regarded him with a sour face. Abruptly, he pushed himself away from the table and stood up. “I’m sure that says something about you, Mr. Pereira, although I’m not sure what. Evangeline, you’d better finish up so your friend can go home. I’m sure his parents want him back at a reasonable hour.” With that curt dismissal, he walked away.

Evangeline slumped in her chair and pushed her plate forward, staring pleadingly across the table at Sebastian. He didn’t know what else to do except finish his plate.

Once the front door closed behind them and they’d descended the steps, Sebastian erupted. “What the hell was all that?” He glared at Eva, who was holding her hand over her forehead.

“God, Sebastian. I’m so, so, so sorry. I should have said something to you, but…”

“I thought you were exaggerating, but you didn’t tell me the half of it. What did I do wrong, huh?” More than indignation, he felt disgusted at himself for trying to be friendly to a man who obviously held him in contempt.

“He’s really sensitive about the Compass Society and things like that. I never thought it would come up, otherwise I would have warned you.”

Sebastian stormed off down the sidewalk, too angry to look back at her. “Please, he disliked me before he even heard my name!”

“Sebastian, hold on!” Her voice was quaking. She grabbed him and tried to drag him back.

He turned slowly and saw her eyes glistening with tears, and his heart overflowed with sympathy. Once again he noticed how warm her hands were.

“I’m sorry I put you through that," she said. "I knew he was going to be a jerk, but if I thought it was going to be that bad, I would never have asked you to come. Please believe me.”

Sebastian laid his hand on her shoulder. “I do believe you. I’m sorry, Eva. I guess I screwed things up for you, huh? I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn't, Sebastian. Please don’t be mad at me.” She clamped both of her hands around his wrist and looked up at him beneath heavy eyelids. “Pittsburgh’s been great, and school has been great, mostly because of you. I’d hate it if you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. I’d understand completely, but I’d hate it.”

“Hey,” he said, and laid his palm on her cheek. “Don’t worry about it, Eva.”

“We’re still friends then?”

“Yes. Absolutely we are.”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I better get back inside,” she whispered. “Call me when you get home?”

Sebastian was too stunned to do anything but nod stiffly. He wanted to kiss her back on the lips. He wanted to hold her close. But the moment passed. She pulled away and walked backwards toward her house, and he mentally cursed his cowardice.

“Bye!” she waved.

“Bye.”