The Silver Linings Playbook - By Matthew Quick Page 0,27

eggs. My plate is set at the breakfast bar, and my five morning pills are laid out in a line on a napkin.

"Look," I say, and hold up what my father gave me.

"Sports pages, eh?" Mom says over the sound of frying eggs.

"Yeah." I sit down and pop all five pills into my mouth, trying to decide how many I will swallow today. "But why?"

Mom scrapes the eggs from the pan and onto my plate with her spatula. She smiles and says, "Your father is trying, Pat. But I wouldn't ask too many questions if I were you. Take what he gives you and be happy - that's what we do, right?"

She smiles at me hopefully, and right then I decide to swallow all five pills, so I take a sip of water and do just that.

Every day that week, I hear the basement door open and close, and when I check the top step, I find the sports sections, which I read from cover to cover while I eat breakfast with Mom.

The big news is the upcoming Giants game, which everyone thinks will be the key to winning the NFC East, especially since the Giants have already lost to the Indianapolis Colts in game one. A loss will put them at 0 - 2 and the Eagles at 2 - 0. The game is being hyped as a big one, and I have a ticket, thanks to Jake, which makes me really excited.

Each night, I wait for my dad to come home from work, hoping he might want to talk about the upcoming game with me - so I can use the current players' names and prove to him that I am a real fan again - but he always takes his dinner into his study and locks the door. A few times I actually go to his study and raise a fist to knock, but I chicken out every night. Mom says, "Give him time."

Sitting in the brown recliner, I talk about my dad with Dr. Cliff during my Friday appointment. I tell him how Dad is leaving me the sports sections now, and how I know this is a huge deal for Dad, but I wish he would talk to me more. Cliff listens, but says little about my father. Instead he keeps bringing up Tiffany, which is sort of annoying because she has only been following me when I run, and that's about it.

"Your mother says you are going to the beach with Tiffany tomorrow," Cliff says, and then smiles like men sometimes do when they are talking about women and sex.

"I'm going with Ronnie and Veronica and baby Emily too. The whole point is to take Emily to the beach because she did not get to go much this summer and it will be cold soon. Little kids love the beach, Cliff."

"Are you excited about going?"

"Sure. I guess. I mean, I'll have to get up super early to get a good workout in and finish when we come home, but - "

"What about seeing Tiffany in a bathing suit?"

I blink several times before I grasp what he has said to me.

"You said before that she has a nice body," Cliff adds. "Are you looking forward to seeing it? Maybe she will wear a bikini. What do you think?"

I feel mad for a second - because my therapist is sort of being disrespectful - but then I realize Cliff is testing my morals again, making sure I am fit to be out of the mental institution, so I smile, nod, and say, "Cliff, I'm married, remember?"

He nods back wisely and winks, making me feel like I passed the test.

We talk a little more about how I made it through a whole week without having an episode, which is evidence that the drugs are working, according to Cliff - because he doesn't know I spit at least half of the pills into the toilet - and when it is time for me to go, Cliff says, "I just have one more thing to say to you."

"What?"

He shocks me by jumping to his feet, throwing both hands in the air, and yelling "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

So I jump to my feet, throw both hands in the air, and yell "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" too.

"E!-A!-G!-L!-E!-S! EAGLES!" we chant in unison, spelling the letters with our arms and legs, and suddenly I am so happy.

Cliff predicts a 21 - 14 Eagles victory as he walks me out of his office, and after I agree with his