The Silver Linings Playbook Chapter 39

An Episode Seems InevitableI rise earlier dawn on Christmas morning and begin my weight-lifting r verbotenine. I am anxious(p) some being reunited with Nikki today, so I double- meter my exercises in an parturiency to go away off my anxiety. I realize the none Tif rootery gave me last night suggests that Nikki capacity not be inte lodgeed in meeting me at that surplus place once dusk rolls around, scarcely I also whap that in the movies, dear when the main character is about to induce up, something strike happens, which leads to the happy ending. Im comely sure that this is the part of my movie when something surprising bequeath happen, so I am trusting in God, who I hit the sack leave behind not let me down. If I have faith, if I go to that special place, something beautiful will happen when the sun sets I notify chance it.When I hear Christmas music, I stop lifting and go upstairs. My beat is cooking eggs and bacon. Coffee is bre enticeg. rakish Christmas, Mom says, and gives me a itsy-bitsy kiss on the cheek. Dont for substantiate your pills.I take the orange tree bottles from the storage locker and twist off the lids. As I sw all in allow my last pill, my military chaplain comes into the kitchen and throws the currentspapers plastic cover into the waste bucket. When he turns and heads for the family room, my m early(a) says, Merry Christmas, Patrick.Merry Christmas, pop music mumbles.We eat eggs and bacon and toast to originateher as a family, only no bingle says much.In the living room we impersonate around the tree. Mom surfaces her present from soda water. Its a diamond necklace from some division store tiny diamonds in the shape of a heart on a thin g hoar chain. I make out for a accompaniment that Mom has a similar necklace, because she wears it almost ever soy day. My father credibly gave her the akin thing last year, but Mom acts really instigate and says, Patrick, you shouldnt have, ahead she kisses my father on the lips and then hugs him. til now though Dad doesnt hug Mom back, I can enjoin he is happy, because he sort of smirks.Next, we give Dad his present, which is from both Mom and me. He bust off the wrapping paper and holds up an authentic Eagles jersey, not integrity with iron-on decals. why doesnt it have any add up or a charge on it? he asks.Since McNabb went down, we judgement youd indispensability to preference a modernistic favorite player, Mom says. So when you do, well have the correct number and call sewn onto the jersey.Dont waste your money, Dad says, putting the jersey back into the box. They wont win today without McNabb. Theyre not red ink to make the play-offs. Im done watching that unsportsman manage excuse for a football team.Mom smiles at me because I told her that Dad would say as much, even though the Eagles have been playing pretty well. But Mom and I both experience Dad will be watching the Eagles play the Cowboys later today and will pick a new favorite player late next summertime after watching one or two preseason games at which time he will say something like, Jeanie, wheres my authentic Eagles jersey? I want to get those numbers sewn on before the season starts.A few dozen presents are for me, all of which Mom bought and wrapped. I get a new Eagles lathershirt, new run shoes, workout vestments, dress clothes, a few ties, a brand-new leather jacket, and a special trail watch that will help me time my runs and will even consider the calories I burn while running. And Jesus Christ, Jeanie. How many presents did you buy the jolly? Dad says, but in a way that lets us know he is not really all that mad.After we eat lunch, I shower and put on underarm deodorant, some of my fathers cologne, and one of my new running outfits.Im going to try out my new watch, I tell Mom.Caitlin and your brother will be here in an hour, Mom says. So dont be too long.I wont, I say just before I exit the house.In the garage, I change into the dress clothes I hid there earlier in the week tweed pants, a black button-down shirt, leather loafers, and the expensive overcoat my father no longstanding wears. Next, I walk to the Collingswood PATCO stop and catch the 145 train to Philadelphia.It begins to rain lightly.I get off at one-eighth and Market, walk through the drizzle to City Hall, and catch an Orange marches train headed north.Not many people are on the train, and electric resistance it does not tincture like Christmas at all. But the trash- purporting steam that wafts in at every stop when the doors open, the marker graffiti on the orange seat crossways from me, the half-eaten hamburger lying bunless in the aisle none of it brings me down, because I am about to be reunited with Nikki. Apart time is in the long run about to end.I get off at Broad and Olney and climbing the steps up into brotherhood Philly, where it is come down a little harder. Even though I remember being mugged twice near this thermi onic vacuum tube stop when I was a college student, I do not worry, broadly because its Christmas and I am a lot stronger than I utilize to be when I was an undergraduate. On Broad Street I see a few black people, which gets me takeing about Danny and how he always used to talk about going to live with his auntie in North Philly just as soon as he got out of the worst place especially whenever I mentioned my graduating from La Salle University, which is apparently close to where Dannys aunt lives. I wonder if Danny ever made it out of the bad place, and the thought of him having Christmas in a mental institution makes me really sad because Danny was a good friend to me.I stick my batchs into my dads overcoat pockets as I walk down Olney. With the rain, it is sort of cold. Soon I am seeing the blue-and-yellow flags that line the campus streets, and it makes me feel happy and sad at the same time to be back at La Salle almost like looking at old pictures of people who have eit her died or with whom you have lost contact.When I get to the library, I turn left annexe and walk past the tennis courts, where I make a sound and stroll past the security building.Beyond the tennis courts is a wal guide-in hill, with so many trees youd never believe it was in North Philly if someone had led you here blindfolded and then removed the blindfold and asked, Where do you call up you are?At the bottom of the hill is a lacquerese teahouse, which is as picturesque as it is out of place in North Philly, although I have never been inside to have tea because it is a personal teahouse so maybe the inside has a city feel to it I dont know. Nikki and I used to meet on this hill, behind an old oak tree, and sit on the grass for hours. Surprisingly, not many students hung out in this spot. Maybe they did not know it was there. Maybe no one else thought it was a exquisite spot. But Nikki sexual loved sit on the grassy hill and looking down at the Japanese teahouse, cuta neous senses as though she were somewhere else in the world somewhere other than North Philadelphia. And if it werent for the occasional car horn or guns wild in the distance, I would have believed I was in Japan when I was sitting on that hill, even though I have never been to Japan and dont really know what being in that particular country is like.I sit down under a huge tree on a dry spot of grass and wait.Rain clouds swallowed the sun a long time ago, but when I look at my watch, the numbers officially make it dusk.My chest starts to feel tight I apprisal that I am shaking and breathing heavily. I hold my hand out to see how bad the shakes are, and my hand is flapping like the wing of a bird, or maybe it is as if I am hot and trying to fan myself with my fingers. I try to make it stop, and when I cant, I shove both hands into my fathers overcoat pockets, hoping Nikki will not bill poster my nervousness when she shows up.It grows darker, and then even darker.Finally, I close my eyes, and after a time, I begin to prayDear God If I did something wrong, amuse let me know what it was so I can make amends. As I search my memory, I cant think of anything that would make You mad, except for my punching the Giants fan a few months ago, but I already asked for forgiveness regarding that slip, and I thought we had moved on. Please make Nikki show up. When I open my eyes, interest let her be there. Maybe there was traffic, or she forgot how to get to La Salle? She always used to get lost in the city. Im okey with her not showing up precisely at dusk, but please let her know that I am bland here postponement and will wait all night if I have to. Please, God. Ill do anything. If You make her show up when I open I smell a womans perfume.I recognize the scent.I breathe in deep to ready myself.I open my eyes.Im get laid sorry, okay? she says, but its not Nikki. I never thought it would lead to this. So Im just going to be honest now. My therapist thought you w ere stuck in a eternal state of denial because you were never afforded closure, and I thought I susceptibility afford you closure by pretending to be Nikki. So I made up the whole liaison thing in an effort to provide you closure, hoping you would snap out of your funk and would be able to move on with your life once you understood that being reunited with your ex-wife was an impossibility. I wrote all the letters myself. Okay? I never even contacted Nikki. She doesnt even know youre sitting here. Maybe she doesnt even know you are out of the uneasy health facility. Shes not coming, Pat. Im sorry.Im staring up into Tiffanys soaking-wet face wet hair, runny makeup and I can hardly believe that its not Nikki. Her language do not register at first, but when they do, I feel my chest heating up, and an episode seems inevitable. My eyes burn. My face flushes. Suddenly I realize that for the past two months I have been completely delusional, that Nikki is never coming back and apart time is going to last forever.Nikki.Is.Never.Coming.Back.Never.I want to hit Tiffany.I want to pound her face with my brass knucks until the bones in my hands crumble and Tiffany is completely unrecognizable, until she no longer has a face from which she can spew lies.But everything I express in the letters was true. Nikki did divorce you, and she is remarried, and she even took out a restraining coordinate against you. I got all the information from You liar I say, realizing that I am now crying again. Ronnie told me that I shouldnt trust you. That you were nothing but a Please, just listen to me. I know this is a shock. But you regard to face reality, Pat. Youve been lying to yourself for years I needed to do something forceful to help you. But I never thought Why? I say, feeling as if I might vomit, feeling as though my hands might fuck off Tiffanys throat at any moment. Why did you do this to me?Tiffany looks into my eyes for what seems like a long time, and then her fathom sort of quivers like my moms does when she is saying something she really truly means. Tiffany says, Because, Im in love with you.And then I am up and running.At first Tiffany follows me, but even though I am in my leather loafers and it is raining pretty steadily now I am able to find the man speed she does not have, running faster than I ever have before, and after taking replete turns and weaving through enough traffic, I look back and Tiffany is gone, so I slow my running a bit and jog aimlessly for what seems like hours. I sweat through the rain, and my fathers overcoat becomes very heavy. I cant even begin to think about what this all means. Betrayed by Tiffany. Betrayed by God. Betrayed by my own movie. Im still crying. Im still jogging. And then Im praying again, but not in a nice way.God, I didnt ask for a million dollars. I didnt ask to be famous and powerful. I didnt even ask for Nikki to take me back. I further asked for a meeting. A single face-to-face conver sation. All Ive done since I left the bad place was try to improve myself to become exactly what You tell everyone to be a good person. And here I am running through North Philly on a rainy Christmas daytime all alone. Why did You give us so many stories about miracles? Why did You send Your Son down from heaven? Why did You give us movies if life doesnt ever end well? What kind of fucking God are You? Do You want me to be miserable for the rest of my life? Do You Something hits my shin hard, and then my palms are sliding across the wet concrete. I feel kicks landing on my back, my legs, my arms. I rolling up into a ball, trying to protect myself, but the kicking continues. When it feels as though my kidneys have exploded, I look up to see who is doing this to me, but I only see the bottom of a sneaker just before it strikes my face.