The Silver Linings Playbook Chapter 14

I Can Share Raisin Bran On the drive home from Cliff's office I ask my mom if she thinks asking Tiffany on a date is the best way to get rid of her once and for all, and Mom says, â€Å"You shouldn't be trying to get rid of anyone. You need friends, Pat. Everyone does.† I don't say anything in response. I'm afraid Mom is rooting for me to fall in love with Tiffany, because whenever she calls Tiffany my â€Å"friend,† she says the word with a smile on her face and a hopeful look in her eye, which bothers me tremendously because Mom is the only person in my family who does not hate Nikki. Also, I know Mom looks out the window when I go on my runs, because she will tease me, saying â€Å"I see your friend showed up again† when I return from a jog. Mom pulls into the driveway, shuts off the car engine, and says, â€Å"I can loan you money should you ever want to take your friend to dinner,† and again, the way she says â€Å"friend† makes me feel tingly in a bad way. I say nothing in response, and my mother does the strangest thing – she giggles. I finish my weight training for the day and put on a trash bag, and as I begin stretching on the front lawn, I see that Tiffany is jogging up and down the length of my parents' block, waiting for me to begin running. I tell myself to ask her out to dinner so I can end this madness and get back to being alone on my runs, but instead I simply start running, and Tiffany follows. I go past the high school, down Collings Avenue to the Black Horse Pike, make a left and then another left into Oaklyn, run down Kendall Boulevard to the Oaklyn Public School, up past the Manor Bar to the White Horse Pike, make a right and then a left onto Cuthbert, and I run into Westmont. When I get to the Crystal Lake Diner, I turn and jog in place. Tiffany jogs in place and stares at her feet. â€Å"Hey,† I say to her. â€Å"You want to have dinner with me at this diner?† â€Å"Tonight?† she says without looking up at me. â€Å"Yeah.† â€Å"What time?† â€Å"We have to walk here because I'm not allowed to drive.† â€Å"What time?† â€Å"I'll be in front of your house at seven-thirty.† Next, the most amazing thing happens: Tiffany simply jogs away from me, and I cannot believe I finally got her to leave me alone. I am so happy I alter my route and run at least fifteen miles instead of ten, and when the sun sets, the clouds in the west are all lined with electricity, which I know is a good omen. At home, I tell my mother I need some money so I can take Tiffany out to dinner. My mother tries to hide her smile as she retrieves her purse from the kitchen table. â€Å"Where are you taking her?† â€Å"The Crystal Lake Diner.† â€Å"You shouldn't need more than forty dollars then, right?† â€Å"I guess.† â€Å"It'll be on the counter when you come down.† I shower, apply underarm deodorant, use my father's cologne, and put on my khakis and the dark green button-down shirt Mom bought me at the Gap just yesterday. For some reason, my mother is systematically buying an entire wardrobe for me – and every piece is from the Gap. When I go downstairs, my mom tells me I need to tuck in my shirt and wear a belt. â€Å"Why?† I ask, because I do not really care if I look respectable or not. I only want to get rid of Tiffany once and for all. But when Mom says, â€Å"Please,† I remember that I am trying to be kind instead of right – and I also owe Mom because she rescued me from the bad place – so I go upstairs and put on the brown leather belt she purchased for me earlier in the week. Mom comes into my room with a shoe box and says, â€Å"Put on some dress socks and try these on.† I open the box, and these swanky-looking brown leather loafers are inside. â€Å"Jake said these are what men your age wear casually,† Mom says. When I slip the loafers on and look in the mirror, I see how thin my waistline appears, and I think I look almost as swanky as my little brother. With forty bucks in my pocket, I walk across Knight's Park to Tiffany's parents' house. She is outside, waiting for me on the sidewalk, but I see her mother peeking out the window. Mrs. Webster ducks behind the blinds when we make eye contact. Tiffany does not say hello, but begins walking before I can stop. She is wearing a pink knee-length skirt and a black summer sweater. Her platform sandals make her look taller, and her hair is sort of puffed out around the ears, hanging down to her shoulders. Her eyeliner is a little heavy, and her lips are so pink, but I have to admit she looks great, which I tell her, saying, â€Å"Wow, you look really nice tonight.† â€Å"I like your shoes,† she says in response, and then we walk for thirty minutes without saying another word. We get a booth at the diner, and the server gives us glasses of water. Tiffany orders tea, and I say that water is fine for me. As I read the menu, I worry that I won't have enough money, which is silly, I know, because I have two twenties on me and most of the entrees are under ten bucks, but I do not know what Tiffany will order, and maybe she will want dessert, and then there's the tip. Nikki taught me to overtip; she says waitresses work too hard for such a little bit of money. Nikki knows this because she was a waitress all through college – when we were at La Salle – so I always overtip when I go out to eat now, just to make up for the times in the past when I fought with Nikki over a few dollars, saying fifteen percent was more than enough, because no one tipped me regardless of whether I did my job well or not. Now I am a believer in overtipping, because I am practicing being kind rather than right – and as I am reading the diner menu, I think, What if I do not have enough money left over for a generous tip? I am worrying about all of this so much that I must have missed Tiffany's order, because suddenly the waitress is saying, â€Å"Sir?† When I put my menu down, both Tiffany and the waitress are staring at me, as if they are concerned. So I say, â€Å"Raisin bran,† because I remember reading that cereal is only $2.25. â€Å"Milk?† â€Å"How much is milk?† â€Å"Seventy-five cents.† I figure I can afford it, so I say, â€Å"Please,† and then hand my menu back to the waitress. â€Å"That's it?† I nod, and the waitress sighs audibly before leaving us alone. â€Å"What did you order? I didn't catch it,† I say to Tiffany, trying to sound polite but secretly worrying that I will not have enough money left over for a good tip. â€Å"Just tea,† she says, and then we both look out the window at the cars in the parking lot. When the raisin bran comes, I open the little single-serving box and pour the cereal into the bowl the diner provides free of charge. The milk comes in a miniature pitcher; I pour it over the brown flakes and sugared raisins. I push the bowl to the middle of the table and ask Tiffany if she would like to help me eat the cereal. â€Å"Are you sure?† she says, and when I nod, she picks up her spoon and we eat. When we get the bill, it is for $4.59. I hand our waitress the two twenties, and the woman laughs, shakes her head, and says, â€Å"Change?† When I say, â€Å"No, thank you† – thinking Nikki would want me to overtip – the waitress says to Tiffany, â€Å"Honey, I had him all wrong. You two come back real soon. Okay?† And I can tell the woman is satisfied with her tip because she sort of skips her way to the register. Tiffany doesn't say anything on the walk home, so I don't either. When we get to her house, I tell her I had a great time. â€Å"Thanks,† I say, and then offer a handshake, just so Tiffany will not get the wrong idea. She looks at my hand and then up at me, but she doesn't shake. For a second I think she is going to start crying again, but instead she says, â€Å"Remember when I said you could fuck me?† I nod slowly because I wish I did not remember it so vividly. â€Å"I don't want you to fuck me, Pat. Okay?† â€Å"Okay,† I say. She walks around her parents' house, and then I am alone again. When I arrive home, my mom excitedly asks me what we had for dinner, and when I tell her raisin bran, she laughs and says, â€Å"Really, what did you have?† I ignore her, go to my room, and lock the door. Lying down on my bed, I pick up the picture of Nikki and tell her all about my date and how I gave the waitress a nice tip and how sad Tiffany seems and how much I can't wait for apart time to end so Nikki and I can share raisin bran at some diner and walk through the cool early September air – and then I am crying again. I bury my face and sob into my pillow so my parents will not hear.