The Threat

My Dearest Sonya,
I leave tonight. Father drinks too much. Mother constantly cries. My brothers fight in a war that makes no sense. But you know all this. I can’t say where I’m going and haven’t much money but join me, I beg you. Since it is impossible for us to be seen together, I’ll come to the market at noon. Wear a yellow dress if the answer is yes, blue if the answer is no.
Your Raul

Sonya reads a second letter, feels the threat. Slowly she slips into her black dress to signal Raul’s father that his son intends to flee.

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Opposites Attract

My husband’s family tells stories about ailments with unfathomable enthusiasm. Colonoscopies, arthritis, trigger toe, prostate cancer and warts – nothing is too private to pass down the sister-brother telegraph line relaying maladies both large and small.
Fifteen years ago my mom had a cancerous breast removed and didn’t tell my sisters and me until a year, maybe two, later. For a month our dad nursed her. He alone monitored the drain tubes, fed her, and delivered medication while we daughters continued blithely on with our lives – oblivious to her discomfort. Her explanation? “I didn’t want to bother you.”
And that is what our family does. We keep ailments to ourselves.
On the other hand, my husband’s family laughs uproariously when they’re together, they play games and tease, remember the old days and look to the future. My family eats an entire dinner – including dessert – not speaking a word. That’s not to say we don’t have fun, we do. Out on the back porch Mom and Dad discuss books, the news, and who drove down the alley and took the broken stove Mr. Jenkins tossed out on Monday. On the front porch Dad points to the “fairy rings” in the lawn and asks Mom if they were there yesterday.
Of course, three hours may pass between these conversations.
In silence.
So, it must be true. Opposites attract.