The Silver Linings Playbook - By Matthew Quick Page 0,49
reminding himself not to be overly hopeful.
The defense holds strong, and tight end L. J. Smith scores a touchdown with only a few minutes left in the first quarter, making it 13 - 0. Even though the Eagles have blown big leads before, it seems safe to say the Birds are the superior team today. My thoughts are confirmed after Akers hits the extra point and my father jumps up and starts singing "Fly, Eagles, Fly." So I jump up and sing with him, and we both do the chant at the end, spelling the letters with our arms and legs: "E!-A!-G!-L!-E!-S! EAGLES!"
Between quarters, my father asks me if I am hungry, and when I say yes, he orders us a pizza and brings me a Bud from the refrigerator. With the Eagles up 14 - 0, he is all smiles, and as we sip our beer, he says, "Now all we need is your boy Baskett to get a catch or two."
As if my father's words were a prayer answered, McNabb's first completion in the second quarter is to Baskett for eight yards. Dad and I cheer so loudly for the undrafted rookie.
The pizza arrives during halftime, and the Eagles are up 24 - 3. "If only Jake were here," my father says. "Then this day would be perfect."
My dad and I have been so happy that I've forgotten Jake is not with us. "Where is Jake?" I ask, but Dad ignores the question.
In the third quarter the San Francisco running back fumbles on the Eagles' one-yard line and defensive tackle Mike Patterson picks up the ball and runs toward the opposite end zone. Dad and I are out of our seats, cheering on the three-hundred-pound lineman as he runs the whole length of the field, and then the Eagles are up 31 - 3.
San Francisco scores a few touchdowns late in the second half, but it doesn't matter, because the game is basically out of reach, and the Eagles win 38 - 24. At the conclusion of the game, my father and I sing "Fly, Eagles, Fly" and do the chant one last time, celebrating the Eagles' victory, and then Dad simply turns off the television and returns to his study without even saying goodbye to me.
The house is so quiet.
Maybe a dozen or so beer bottles on the floor, the pizza box is still on the coffee table, and I know the sink is stacked full of dishes and the pan in which Dad cooked his breakfast steak. Since I am practicing being kind, I figure I should at least clean up the family room so Mom won't have to do it. I carry the Bud bottles out to the recycle bucket by the garage and throw away the pizza box in the outside garbage can. Back inside, a few used napkins are on the floor, and when I reach down to pick up the mess, I spot a crumpled ball of paper under the coffee table.
I pick up the ball, uncrumple it, and realize it is not one but two pieces of paper. Mom's handwriting emerges. I flatten the papers out on the coffee table.
Patrick,
I need to tell you I will no longer allow you to disregard the decisions we make together, nor will I allow you to talk down to me any longer - especially in front of others. I have met a new friend who has encouraged me to assert myself more forcefully in an effort to gain your respect. Know that I am doing this to save our marriage.
Your options:
Return the monstrous television you purchased, and everything will go back to normal.
Keep the monstrous television, and you must agree to the following demands:
You must eat dinner at the table with Pat and me five nights a week.
You must go on a half-hour walk with either Pat or me five nights a week.
You must have a daily conversation with Pat, during which you ask him at least five questions and listen to his replies, which you will report to me nightly.
You must do one recreational activity a week with Pat and me, such as eating at a restaurant, seeing a movie, going to the mall, shooting baskets in the backyard, etc.
Failure to complete either option 1 or 2 will force me to go on strike. I will no longer clean your house, buy or cook your food, launder your clothes, or share your bed. Until you declare which option you wish to take, consider