Unfinished Symphony

Chapter 1

        Percy

The caramel colored paint on the house at the end of highway was still pristine as I watched through the cloudy front window of my brother's old SUV. The navy-blue piece of junk had become mine for the weekend. It had soft plush seats, broken air conditioning, and smelled faintly of old weed.

I turned the wheel and drove onto the old service road that led to my grandmother's house. The overgrown trees and dusty gravel clouded my vision enough that I had no choice but to force the tears welling in my eyes to subside.

Now was not the time to feel sad. Or sorry for myself.

Yet something about driving down this road instead of going down the barely there path across the street to my simple yellow one story house struck a chord. It's not your house anymore, Percy. Not anymore, I reminded myself as the covered patio and daintily potted flowers by the front door to my grandma's house came into view.

I turned off the car and looked around. Green and brown trees surrounded one side of the Orelus residence, while the other side lead to a grassy pasture and a sad pond. The old fishing shed was still the same. The moldy dock hadn't changed either. But the house was different. The shutters were new, and the windows looked freshly cleaned. Yet the usually pristine porch was cluttered with coolers, foldable chairs, and boxes of what looked like fireworks.

Good God, was she throwing a party?

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my purse and duffel from the passenger door and got out of the car.

The cherry painted front door opened creakily. The lights in the living room were off and the TV was playing some rerun episodes of Big Bang Theory.

Setting my stuff in the recliner by the door and kicking off my flip flops, I yelled for the owner of the house.

"Granmè, I'm home."

Silence.

I tried again. "Granmè, are you here?"

Nothing, nada.

Deciding she probably wasn't home, I trotted into the kitchen. The scuffed hardwood was shiny. I stepped past the threshold, half sliding as my feet met the wet kitchen floor.

Oh, so that's why it was so shiny. Sighing, I carefully stepped to the counter, getting halfway there before a familiar voice behind me said, "I know you are not walking on my freshly mopped floors, Zwazo."

I was walking, but now I lay sprawled across the floor, head pounding at the impact and heart pounding as the dark and wrinkled face above me flashed a cheeky smile and a half-assed apology for scaring me.

"Hi, Granmè." I lifted my head, surveying the kitchen around me. "I see you finally got the granite countertops you wanted."

She huffed and motioned for me to get up, "At least you're more observant than your brother."

Groaning, I jumped to my feet and cracked my neck. It was sore from the last three days in the car.

"You've heard from him?"

My brother, Cory, had been prone to getting into more trouble than me throughout his life and had just spent the last four years in prison because of it. The bad behavior seemed to run in the family.

Granmè just shook her head and pointed to my clothes as a way to change the subject from her surprisingly favorite grandchild. Her arched eyebrow conveyed all the disappoint she didn't want to voice aloud about my cut off denim shorts and white cropped sweatshirt.  I could tell it was taking all her effort not to cringe at the beautifully gigantic tattoo that curled its way around my upper leg.