The Silver Linings Playbook - By Matthew Quick Page 0,8

time began, and like my father, he said some really awful things about Nikki the last time we talked.

"Jake is looking forward to seeing you, and you know how much your father loves the Eagles. I can't wait to have all three of my men gathered around the couch again, just like old times." My mother smiles at me so hard I think she is going to break out in tears again, so I turn around and go back into the basement to do knuckle push-ups until my pecs burn and I can no longer feel my knuckles.

Knowing that I will probably not be allowed to go for my run later, because we are having a family night, I put on a trash bag and run early, passing my high school friends' homes; passing St. Joseph's, which is the Catholic church I used to attend; passing Collingswood High School (class of ′89 rules!) and the house my grandparents used to own by the park before they died.

My old best friend sees me when I run past his new house on Virginia Avenue. Ronnie is just getting home from work, walking from his car to his front door, when I pass him on the sidewalk. He looks me in the eyes, and after I have passed, he yells, "Pat Peoples? Is that you? Pat! Hey!" I run even harder, because my brother, Jake, is coming to talk to me; Jake does not believe in happy endings, and I do not have the emotional wherewithal to deal with Ronnie right now, because he never once came to visit Nikki and me in Baltimore, although he promised so many times. Nikki used to call Ronnie "whipped," saying that his wife, Veronica, "keeps Ronnie's social calendar where she keeps his balls - in her purse."

Nikki told me that Ronnie would never visit me in Baltimore, and she was right.

He never visited me in the bad place either, but he used to write me letters about how great his daughter, Emily, was and I guess is, although I have not yet met Emily to verify the letters.

When I return home, Jake's car is there - a fancy silver BMW, which sort of implies that my brother is doing well now when it comes to "pockets getting fatter," as Danny says. So I sneak in the back door and run up the steps to the shower. After I wash and put on clean clothes, I take a deep breath and follow the sound of conversation to the living room.

Jake stands when he sees me. He has on fancy pants, lined with charcoal pinstripes, and a robin's-egg blue polo shirt that is formfitting enough to show that he is still pretty fit. He is also wearing a watch with diamonds all over the face, which Danny would call Jake's bling-bling. My brother's hair has thinned a little too, but his head is gelled and looks swanky.

"Pat?" he says.

"Didn't I say you wouldn't recognize him?" Mom says.

"You look like Arnold Schwarzenegger." He feels my bicep, which I absolutely hate because I don't like to be touched by anyone except Nikki. Since he's my brother, I don't say anything. "You're frickin' ripped," he adds.

I look at the floor, because I remember what he said about Nikki - I am still mad about that - and yet I am also happy to see my brother after not seeing him for what feels like forever.

"Listen, Pat. I should have come to see you more in Baltimore, but those places freak me out and I ... I ... I just couldn't see you like that, okay? Are you mad at me?"

I am sort of still mad at Jake, but suddenly I remember another one of Danny's lines that is too appropriate to leave unsaid, so I say, "Got nothin' but love for ya."

Jake looks at me for a second as if I had punched him in the gut. He blinks a few times almost as if he is going to cry, and then he hugs me with both arms. "I'm sorry," he says, and holds me for longer than I like, which isn't very long - unless it's Nikki hugging me.

When he lets go, Jake says, "I got a present for you." He pulls an Eagles jersey out of a plastic bag and tosses it to me. I hold it up and see it's number 84, which I recognize as a wide receiver's number, but I do not know the name. Isn't