So I have seen Silver Linings twice as I completely fell in love with the story. It's so very depressing but the last like half-an hour of the movie is filled with the most touching scenes. It really is gorgeous & I encourage all who haven't yet seen it to go out to their local cinemas and watch it. I loved it. (But I might be biased, given that I adore Jennifer Lawrence as an actress – I mean did you watch Winter's Bone?). Anyway. Read on.
They were an unconventional pair.
It seemed as though they were known by everybody on the dancing circuit. The dark haired woman with eyes that dug into the soul and a flaring passion in her words and the well built man with a shadow of solemnity on his face which, when he was around her, seemed far more open than in anyone else's company.
They were a couple. They were dancers. They were runners. They were lovers.
They took part in every open dance competition in Baltimore, and they became well known for it.
They were the pair whom may not have been as talented as other partners on the dancefloor, but they were the pair that, before the end of their dance, had everyone in the room ready to applaud them. Every audience member would be on their side by the final note of their dance and despite never achieving a score higher than 6.4, the pair were always happy, always smiling.
But then they were not always smiling. Sometimes they were yelling and crying and screaming and fighting. Sometimes they acted as though they couldn't stand each other and sometimes they acted like they couldn't see anyone else but each other. Their emotions ruled them. They were passionate people and their passion was obvious in their dancing. All their joy and frustration could be seen on the dancefloor as they moved together.
Their movements were never perfectly in sync like many of the other professional dancers, nor were they as flexible or strong as some of the other dancers, but the glances they gave to each other and the emotions swimming in their eyes were stronger than any that could be seen in the room. And those emotions shone through their dancing.
The swaying of her hips in his direction and the light trailing of his fingertips along her skin was electric. And many in the competition swore that if one were to take a thermal camera and point it at the pair that their bodies would be a bright orange and their points of contact would be a throbbing red as would their hearts.
Their dancing may not have been as graceful or powerful as the other competitors but they were just as compelling to watch as they swayed and rocked across the dancefloor. Their power to hold the gazes of all those in the room was undeniable.
The same power they unconsciously employed at their dance competitions surged through their limbs on their runs.
They always ran together.
Most of the time they ran one in front of the other; Tiffany acknowledging that she liked the way Pat's arse looked as he ran. Pat himself would never voice his interest in Tiffany's arse, but she knew. She always knew.
She seemed to be able to read him like a book, and more importantly, she understood the way he thought. She could see his reasoning and the paths his thoughts took no matter how frail the connections were. She could follow the path his thoughts took.
She followed him as they ran, letting him take control because she knew that letting him take control of their path and their destination and their distance was comforting for Pat. It allowed him to feel in control and although he was gaining more control over his life, the decisions he made in running were his own, they were not influenced by pills or his family or his past. They were his own.
Tiffany was content having Pat guide their running as long as she guided their dancing, choreographing their moves and positions.
They shared their lives. They shared their control and sometimes they pushed each other too far in their fights for control, but their desire to control their entire lives was less powerful than the love they shared for each other.
They had each known that they would never control their entire lives. That had become evident to both of them during their recovery. And in their own ways they each liked having a slight lack of control in their lives. Pat realised that without losing some degree of control in his life, he would never have met Tiffany. Tiffany already knew the same thing, but she also knew that the lack of control in their lives was what caused excitement and unpredictability and for that she was almost glad that she never had complete control.
Pat disagreed with her.
He believed that the excitement and unpredictability in their lives was not caused by their lack of control so much as it was caused by their own decisions and choices. Together, whether consciously or unconsciously the things they ended up doing were exciting. Though, if Pat were being honest he couldn't be completely sure whether it was the things they did or simply her presence that made him happier. He wasn't bothered enough to question it further, simply accepting it for what it was; just as he had accepted all the other bullshit that life had thrown at him because somehow amongst all the bullshit that he had to wade through, he was always able to find some sort of a silver lining to everything.
And in the end that was all he was really looking for – a silver lining. He didn't have to be perfectly, constantly happy. Pat was always more satisfied at finding happiness in a pit full of despair and misery, because it was only in despair and misery when one could feel true happiness and pleasure - unless of course, it was in the arms of the woman he loved.
Just as they fought passionately, they loved and fucked passionately too.
Holding her tight and pressing his hands against the smoothness of her back, as she simply looked at him, her eyes seeing not only his body, but his soul, those were the moments that Pat cherished.
The way she moved above and below him, the way she moaned and sighed. The way she just seemed to be with him amazed him. He was amazed by the incredible beauty, power, elegance and passion she had for her life and him. And he was forever grateful and stunned that she reserved her passion for him. Just as she was thankful that he had given her his love.
Their emotions transcended their dance and it was perfectly visible to everyone who saw them that they loved each other.
They were many things, Tiffany and Pat.
Medically they were labelled as a recovering sex-addict and an undiagnosed bipolar man. Socially they were labelled as slightly inept, awkward and inappropriate but honest. Legally they were considered a part of the grey area and somewhat tenuous in their mental state.
They knew these labels and terms were thrown about whenever they were mentioned.
But they did their best to ignore them because they were a couple. They were runners. They were dancers. They were lovers.
Those were the only things that Tiffany and Pat were happy being.