The Silver Linings Playbook - By Matthew Quick Page 0,53

his love for her is so obvious. But then Caitlin kisses me right on the cheek, and with her face only a few inches from mine, she says, "I'm glad I finally got to meet you, Pat. I hope we'll become good friends." I nod because I don't know what else to say, and then Caitlin says, "Go Baker!"

"It's Baskett, dummy," Jake says, and Caitlin blushes before they kiss again.

Jake hails a taxi and tells the driver, "City Hall."

In the taxi I tell my brother I don't have any money to pay for the taxi ride, but he says I never have to pay for anything when I am with him, which is a nice thing to say, but his saying it makes me feel sort of strange.

Underneath City Hall, we buy subway tokens, spin a turnstile, and then wait for the southbound Orange Line.

Even though it is only 1:30 p.m. and kickoff is not for seven hours yet, even though it is a Monday, a day when most people have to work, many men in Eagles jerseys are already waiting on the platform. This makes me realize that Jake is not working today - it makes me realize I do not even know what Jake does for a living, which really starts to freak me out. I think hard and remember that my brother was a business major in college, but I cannot remember where he works, so I ask him.

"I'm an options trader," he says.

"What's that?"

"I play the stock market."

"Oh," I say. "So who do you work for?"

"Myself."

"What do you mean?"

"I work for myself and do all my business online. I'm self-employed."

"Which is why you could take off early to hang out with me."

"That's the best part about being self-employed."

I am very impressed with Jake's ability to support himself and his wife by playing the stock market, but he doesn't want to talk about his work. He thinks I'm not smart enough to understand what he does; Jake doesn't even try to explain his work to me.

"So what did you think of Caitlin?" he asks me.

But the train comes, and we join the herd of boarding Eagles fans before I can answer.

"What did you think of Caitlin?" he asks again after we find seats and the train starts moving.

"She's great," I say, avoiding eye contact with my brother.

"You're mad at me for not telling you about Caitlin right away."

"No, I'm not." I want to tell him all about Tiffany following me when I run; finding the "Pat" box; how Mom is still on strike and dirty dishes are in the sink and Dad turned his white shirts pink when he did the wash; how my therapist Cliff says I need to stay neutral and not get involved in my parents' marital problems but only focus on improving my own mental health - but how can I do that when Dad and Mom are sleeping in separate rooms and Dad is always telling me to clean the house and Mom is telling me to leave it filthy - and I was having a hard time keeping it together before I found out my brother plays the piano and trades stocks and is living with a beautiful musician and I have missed his gala wedding and therefore will never see my brother marry, which is something I very much wanted to see, because I love my brother. But instead of saying any of this, I say, "Jake, I'm sort of worried about seeing that Giants fan again."

"Is that why you've been so quiet today?" my brother asks, as if he has forgotten all about what happened before the last home game. "I doubt a Giants fan will show up at the Green Bay game, but we're going to set up in a different parking lot anyway, just in case any of the asshole's friends are looking for us. I got your back. Don't worry. The fat guys are setting up the tent in the lot behind the Wachovia Center. No worries at all."

When we arrive at Broad and Pattison, we exit the subway car and climb back up into the afternoon. I follow my brother through the thin crowds of diehards who - like us - have begun tailgating seven hours before kickoff, on a Monday no less. We walk past the Wachovia Center, and when the fat men's green tent comes into view, I can't believe what I see.

The fat men are outside of the tent with Scott, and