I don’t know what to say.
“Every year I see these stupid Dallas and Giants and Redskins fans come into our house wearing their colors, and every year these same fans get manhandled by drunken Eagles fans. When will they learn?”
I am too shocked to speak.
Does this mean Cliff is a season-ticket holder? I wonder, but do not ask.
“Not only were you defending your brother, but you were defending your team too! Right?”
I realize that I am nodding.
Cliff sits down. He pulls the lever, his footrest comes up, and I stare at the well-worn soles of his penny loafers.
“When I am sitting in this chair, I am your therapist. When I am not in this chair, I am a fellow Eagles fan. Understand?”
I nod.
“Violence is not an acceptable solution. You did not have to hit that Giants fan.”
I nod again. “I didn’t want to hit him.”
“But you did.”
I look down at my hands. My fingers are all squirmy.
“What alternatives did you have?” he says.
“Alternatives?”
“What else could you have done, besides hitting the Giants fan?”
“I didn’t have time to think. He was pushing me, and he threw my brother down—”
“What if he had been Kenny G?”
I close my eyes, hum a single note, and silently count to ten, blanking my mind.
“Yes, the humming. Why not try that when you feel as though you are going to hit someone? Where did you learn that technique?”
I’m a little mad at Cliff for bringing up Kenny G, which seems like a dirty trick, especially since he knows Mr. G is my biggest nemesis, but I remember that Cliff did not yell at me when I told him the truth, and I am thankful for that, so I say, “Nikki used to hum a single note whenever I offended her. She said she learned it in yoga class. And whenever she hummed, it would catch me off guard. I would get really freaked out, because it is strange to sit next to someone who is humming a single note with her eyes closed—and Nikki would keep humming that single note for such a long time. When she finally stopped, I would be grateful, and I also would be more aware of her displeasure and more receptive to her feelings, which is something I did not appreciate until recently.”
“So that’s why you hum every time someone brings up Kenny—”
I close my eyes, hum a single note, and silently count to ten, blanking my mind.
When I finish, Cliff says, “It allows you to express your displeasure in a unique way, disarming those around you. Very interesting tactic. Why not use this in other areas of your life? What if you had closed your eyes and hummed when the Giants fan pushed you?”
I hadn’t thought of that.
“Do you think he would have continued to push you if you had closed your eyes and hummed?”
Probably not, I think. The Giants fan would have thought I was crazy, which is exactly what I thought about Nikki when she first used the tactic on me.
Cliff smiles and nods at me when he reads my face.
We talk a little about Tiffany. He says it seems as though Tiffany has romantic feelings for me, and he claims she is most likely jealous of my love for Nikki, which I think is silly, especially since Tiffany never even talks to me and is always so aloof when we are together. Plus Tiffany is so beautiful, and I have not aged well at all.
“She’s just a weird woman,” I say in response.
“Aren’t they all?” Cliff replies, and we laugh some because women truly are hard to figure out sometimes.
“What about my dream? Me seeing Nikki in a Giants jersey? What do you think that means?”
“What do you think it means?” Cliff asks, and when I shrug, he changes the subject.
Cliff says Sylvia Plath’s work is very depressing to read, and that his own daughter had recently suffered through The Bell Jar because she is taking an American literature course at Eastern High School.
“And you didn’t complain to administration?” I asked.
“About what?”
“About your daughter being forced to read such depressing stories.”
“No. Of course not. Why would I?”
“Because the novel teaches kids to be pessimistic. No hope at the end, no silver lining. Teenagers should be taught that—”
“Life is hard, Pat, and children have to be told how hard life can be.”
“Why?”
“So they will be sympathetic to others. So they will understand that some people have it harder than they do and that a trip through this world can be a wildly different experience, depending on what chemicals are raging through one’s mind.”