Somewhere I Belong Read Online Free PDF Page A

Granny glared at my uncle. Then she grabbed the bowl of peas and served Mr. White a heaping spoonful.
    Uncle Jim grinned at Granny and edged around the table and into the kitchen. He returned carrying five tumblers and a large glass jug that contained a murky brown liquid. He plunked the tumblers onto the table in front of Granny. He pulled the stopper from the jug, filled a tumbler halfway, and raised it to eye level. He sniffed it and then took a gulp. He swished the liquid around in his mouth, and then swallowed it loudly, his Adam’s apple travelling the length of his skinny neck. He smacked his lips and smiled. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
    He filled three more tumblers, placing one on the table in front of Mr. White, and handing the other two to Uncle Ed and Mr. Dunphy. He picked up the last tumbler and filled it with milk. “You get this here into you, Mother. It’s good for the bones.” He grabbed his own drink and the jug and returned to his seat.
    The men stogged their faces and cleaned their plates. Uncle Jim sliced what remained of the ham and Mr. White held out his plate. “You’re the best cook on Northbridge Road, Mrs. Lanigan,” he said. Aunt Gert leaned toward him, pulled his napkin out from his shirt collar, and patted grease off his face.
    Mr. Dunphy helped himself to more potatoes. “I’ll second that.”
    I ate quietly and watched and listened. I felt nervous and alone in that crowded room—swallowed up by the strangeness. This should all have been familiar to me; Ma had brought us here, just five years ago, when Dad was away working with Uncle George. But the memories were too distant. The kindness was real—I could feel it. But there was something forced and unnatural about the stilted conversation, about the pleases and thank yous that were drawn out to fill the silence. Aunt Kate asked us about our trip, as if our whole lives had begun just the week before. Everyone seemed to tiptoe around the real reason we were there. They treated it like china so brittle it could break at the touch. I moved my fork slowly across my plate, trying not to scrape it, and carefully balanced my peas. My chest was heavy with the constant ache that had set in after Dad died. I listened to everybody around me, hoping to hear his name mentioned just once. But the chatter veered off in a different direction as if we kids weren’t even there.
    Mr. Dunphy grabbed the jug and refilled his tumbler. He took a huge gulp and wiped his hand over his mouth. “Wa’s fer dessert?”
    â€œWe’ve a lovely apple pie from Jaynie Giddings, next door,” Granny said.
    â€œPercy Giddings brought it over ’imself,” Uncle Ed said. “I saw ’im struttin’ up the drive, dressed to the nines. And Gertie here wouldn’t let ’im in.”
    â€œPoor bugger, sloggin’ through all that snow,” Uncle Jim laughed. “You’re a cruel woman, Gert.”
    Mr. Dunphy leaned across me, breathing potatoes and cider over my face. “I’d say you’re a smart woman to stay away from the likes of him, Miss Lanigan.” I sat back in my chair as his huge bulk pressed up against me. “Percy Giddings is nothing but a hooligan.”
    â€œPercy Giddings is a nice young man,” Granny said. “All the Giddings are. They’ve been a real help to me since my William died.” She was talking about Grandfather William; he died before I was born.
    â€œNot that Percy.” Mr. Dunphy raised his voice. His ruddy face turned a deeper shade of red. “He’s no end of trouble.” He was all over me now, as if I weren’t even there. I pushed my plate aside as he placed an elbow on the table in front of me.
    â€œI don’t see the trouble with young Percy.” Mr. White smiled at Aunt Gert. “Seems he’s sweet on Miss Lanigan here, anyhow.”
    Aunt Gert blushed and stared at her