Chaos Theory

chapter eleven

The rain has stopped by the time Cody pulls into the driveway of his house, the sun bringing out the colors in the puddles gathered on the sides of the road and reflecting against the wind chimes on the front porch.

The house is a light grey, darkened by the navy blue of the shutters and shingles. The coloring makes it appear less like a house near the heart of the old downtown and more of one of those homes Del would always catch on the outskirts of a big city, with their flat roofs and stretched windows. It's strange to witness a house with such little personality be referred to as home by two siblings who seemed to be bursting with it.

Del leaves his bag of clothes behind when he gets out of the car, shooting Bugsy one last mournful glance before shutting the door behind him. There's only one other car in the driveway; a dark red van with a sticker broadcasting the name of an elementary school Del didn't go to in the corner of the back window, faded with age. There's another of the high school's logo, swimming in block letters stuck under it.

Del smiles at it as he's led inside by Marlee's hand.

The inside smells like laundry when it comes out of the dryer, fresh and warmed. The walls of the entryway are a light blue, adorned with hooks weighed down with rain jackets and multiple hats, a mirror to the left of them. What looks like folded beach chairs are shoved into a corner near the stairs, next to a stand filled with shoes that Del notices are almost all sandals or open toed in some way. The table under the mirror is scattered with envelopes, and Marlee and Cody both toss a set of keys into a ceramic bowl that looks as if it was made by one of them when they were younger, all bumpy and multicolored.

There's a thump, and then scratches along the floor as Thor comes barreling into the entryway. Cody squats immediately to give him attention, scratching behind his ears and laughing when he tries to lick at his face. "Hey buddy," he greets through the dog's panting, his smile bright.

"Cough cough," Marlee says loudly, lamely trying to cover it up with a coughing fit into her elbow. Del gives her a deadpan look. "What? I'm not the one going—" she widens her eyes a bit and fixes her mouth into a small close lipped smile—"Am I?"

Del flattens his lips, and colors when he realizes that he was doing that. "Sorry."

"Oh don't be," she waves him off. "I'm sad to say that I'm the same way."

He finds it hard to believe. "Really?"

"Yep, you'll see it one day, for sure. It's disgusting. Now come meet my mom."

Del follows her through the living room, taking in the straightened pillows on the grey couch, the fleece blankets folded neatly on the stool in the middle of the room. There's pictures on the wall above the fireplace, of Cody when he was smaller holding up trophies and making sandcastles, his skin dusted with the stuff. He's smiling largely at the camera in one of them, a cake announcing his fifth birthday sat in front of him, icing smeared on his face. Del isn't in the room for long—trying to keep a pace with Marlee and not make it seem like he's nosing around—but out of all the frames, he catches Marlee's face in two of them.

Both of which she's standing next to her brother, one in pigtails and another in a bright pink dress, her arms wrapped around his shoulders at some sort of swim meet.

There's not a single one of only her.

Del keeps his head down as they pass through the dining room, feeling strangely guilty for taking notice.

The smell of spices is stronger here, in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen. Del can hear the sound of a radio, a host blathering about the newly cleared skies before fading out into Billy Joel's Uptown Girl. A voice hums along to the opening harmony, fading into singing over the sound of popping grease. Del is suddenly nervous, nervous for the interaction he's about to have with a woman who cooks extra meals every time her daughter mentions a friend.