Somewhere I Belong Read Online Free PDF

plate.
    â€œHave a bit of cider, Gertie,” Uncle Jim said.
    â€œI will not,” she replied.
    Mr. Dunphy held out his tumbler. “A fella would die of thirst without you Lanigans.”
    â€œDon’t you think you’ve had enough, Charlie?” Aunt Gert said.
    Mr. Dunphy stared straight at her. “As a matter of fact, I don’t.”
    Aunt Gert and Granny disappeared into the kitchen under a load of dirty dishes. They returned with the apple pie and served it. Alfred fell asleep with his face in his plate. Ma plucked him out of his chair and carried him upstairs. Aunt Kate followed with Helen. The men and the jug of cider retreated to the parlour for cards.
    Mr. Dunphy grabbed Uncle Ed’s arm and staggered across the hallway. “Tell Mrs. Giddings her pie was delicious.”
    Mr. White eased out of his chair and waited for Larry. “You look like a big, strong fella. You wouldn’t help an old man into the parlour, wud’ja?”
    Larry obliged. At a loss for anything else to do, I followed.
    Larry helped Mr. White into the same overstuffed chair Aunt Gert had retrieved him from before supper. Uncle Jim placed the jug of cider on the coffee table; the remains of a game of solitaire lay strewn over it. He moved to an armchair next to the pot-bellied stove and sat opposite Mr. White. Mr. Dunphy hobbled toward the settee and sank into it, dead centre. Uncle Ed squeezed in beside him, forcing Mr. Dunphy to yield some space. Larry and I knelt on the hand-hooked rug on the other side of the coffee table, facing Uncle Ed and Mr. Dunphy.
    Mr. Dunphy poured himself another drink, sat back, and sipped it. Then he slammed his tumbler onto the table. “Have you heard this one?” He grinned at Larry and me, then lifted his hands into the air and started singing. “The farmer in the dell, we’re all going to hell. Hi-ho the Derry-o, we’re all going to hell.”
    â€œHold on, now, Charlie,” Mr. White protested. “You’ll get us all in trouble.”
    â€œNot in front o’ the boys,” Uncle Jim said. He laughed so hard, I wondered if he was serious.
    Mr. Dunphy ignored them and kept on singing.
    â€œCut it out, Charlie; you’re loaded,” Uncle Ed said.
    â€œYou fellas have no sense o’ humour,” Mr. Dunphy said. He heaved himself out of the settee and staggered through the parlour and into the kitchen. Several minutes later, Aunt Gert shrieked, and Uncle Ed rushed from the room. He helped Mr. Dunphy on with his coat and escorted him out the back door.

I drifted between wakefulness and sleep on the hard, lumpy mattress most of that first night. Alfred whimpered and sucked his thumb beside me. He rolled over and hogged the covers, forcing me to fight for my share. The brick Aunt Gert had heated in the cookstove, wrapped in a tea towel, and placed at our feet soon went cold. And I shivered between the cool, damp sheets. Before long, a rooster crowed in the distance. Someone shuffled along the upstairs hallway and lit a kerosene lantern that cast light through our open bedroom doorway. Muffled sounds drifted up from downstairs. It felt like I had just gone to bed, and already it was morning. I buried my face in the feather pillow and tried to block out the light and the sound. The smell of kerosene seeped in as I drifted off to sleep. Soon I was back home, sitting on that bottom step, hanging onto the banister. Everything around me moved in slow motion, in black and white and grey. Everyone was there except Dad.
    Ma was standing in the kitchen, staring at the broken window with a hand to her face. Her lace curtains were sheared and the curtain rod hung at an awkward angle. Her good china lay in shards across the floor amidst the shattered glass from the window and broken jars of her homemade preserves. A single unbroken teacup sat on the floor beside her. It teetered back and forth and then stopped.
    There was an eerie silence in the