No Place Read Online Free PDF Page A

clicked off the TV.
    “You see that?” he exclaimed, turning to Uncle Ron. “What a finish!” My uncle’s face was a blank mask. He started to take a sip of whiskey, then seemed to change his mind and knocked the whole drink back, banged the empty glass down on the counter, and stalked out of the den.
    *  *  *
    At dinner Uncle Ron’s bad mood only got worse. “What is this?” he demanded when Aunt Julie placed a steaming bowl in front of him.
    “Vegetable curry stew,” she explained. “But we’ve got meat for those who want it.” Mom brought over a plate piled with browned chunks of lamb and added some to his soup. “Anyone else?”
    “Me, thanks,” I said.
    Uncle Ron glowered at the chunks of lamb bobbing in the yellowish stew, then frowned at Mom, as if he knewwhere Aunt Julie must have gotten the idea for this concoction. By then I’d tried the stew and a chunk of the lamb. It was pretty good, but I’d had years to get used to Mom’s recipes. Ron glanced at Mike and Ike, who were chowing down on frozen individual pizzas hot from the oven. “There any more of those?”
    “Seriously?” Aunt Julie asked, surprised.
    “Yes . . . seriously,” Uncle Ron growled as if he could barely contain himself.
    We ate silently while Julie put a frozen pizza in the oven, everyone keenly aware that it was time to tread on eggshells. That’s when my eight-year-old cousin, Alicia, Mike and Ike’s younger sister, turned to her father and said, “Daddy, what’s Dignityville?”
    “An incredibly stupid idea,” Uncle Ron grumbled.
    Alicia’s eyebrows dipped. “There’s a boy in sixth grade who lives there.”
    “Really?” Aunt Julie said. “You mean there’s a homeless child at your school?”
    “At mine, too,” I said, thinking of Meg.
    “You’re not really homeless, Dan,” Aunt Julie blurted out.
    Everyone went silent.
    “I . . . wasn’t talking about me,” I said.
    “Oh.” Pressing her fingers to her lips, Aunt Julie blushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”
    “The boy in sixth grade?” Alicia said. “Before he moved to Dignityville he lived in a tent in the state forest. He said theschool bus used to pick up a whole bunch of kids there.”
    “Did only children live there?” Aunt Julie asked. “What about their parents?”
    As was his habit when his wife said something unintentionally inane, Uncle Ron rolled his eyes. “The parents also live there. They just don’t take the school bus.” He paused, his face darkening, then muttered, “Worst damn idea I’ve ever . . .”
    He trailed off. No one spoke. My uncle put down his spoon. “What the hell were they thinking? Putting all those people in Osborne Park, right in the middle of town where everyone can see them. Who in their right mind would move to a town that looks like it’s full of derelicts?”
    It was a badly kept secret that Uncle Ron was having financial problems. He was a lawyer and had made big investments in some condominiums that now stood unfinished and empty. And just when things seemed to be getting a little better, the town council decided to erect Dignityville to house the growing number of homeless families in Median.
    “I don’t think the town had a choice,” Mom said. As Uncle Ron’s big sister, she was the only person I’d ever seen stand up to him when he got angry. “The homeless were occupying the park anyway.”
    “Great, so now we’re giving them food, beds, and a place to go to the bathroom,” Uncle Ron grumbled irately. “How long’s it going to be before every damn bum within five hundred miles moves here? How long before this whole town is completely overrun with them?”
    “It’s not meant to be a permanent residence,” Mom said. “It’s just a safety net for people who’ve fallen on hard times. Until they can get back on their feet.” She reached over and put her hand on his arm. “They’re not all fortunate enough to have a brother who can take them in.”
    Uncle Ron