Wearing Plaid

by Janet Yung

Norman found the blue plaid polyester pants of a previous decade to be the perfect article of clothing -- nearly indestructible fabric suited for any season with an elastic beltline designed to accommodate an expanding waist. He had no desire to rid them from his wardrobe, although that appeared to be his daughter Allison’s goal.

“Dad, tell me you don’t wear these things in public.” She dangled the tired looking trousers over the pile marked “trash”, helping him sort out the household her parents had shared until her mother’s death the previous spring.

Now, Norman was moving into a retirement community where he could be with people “his own age,” the way Allison described the occupants of the building converted from convent to apartments with older tenants in mind. The segment of the population largely avoided and ignored by everyone else, lest old age be contagious -- Norman‘s take on the situation, but a lot of what Allison said made sense, sounding more like her ever practical mother.

“Your mother bought those for me,” he said softly.

And, with that revelation, she folded them neatly, adding them to the “keep” pile, imploring, “Please don’t wear them outside your room.”

Clear the Air

by Janet Yung

Genevieve pictured Marjorie on the other end of the line, slack jawed, wondering what had brought on the tirade. She’d probably attribute Genevieve’s behavior to some hormonal imbalance. Marjorie, addicted to self help books and the daytime shows touting them, was always trying to figure out people, especially Genevieve and offering endless suggestions on how to improve her less than perfect life.

“You should’ve heard your sister on the phone today,” Marjorie would tell Horace.

Horace may or may not listen to Marjorie’s analysis of what transpired during the conversation having spent a lifetime tuning out unpleasantries until direct communication with him regarding any issue had ceased.

It was cathartic as the pent up venom spewed from Genevieve’s lips, a weight lifted from her chest. Weighed down all these years trying to be congenial in Marjorie’s company. Placating everybody else, observing her mother’s warnings not to rock the boat and be considerate of other people’s feelings. But Marjorie’s most recent fiasco was the final straw.

Claiming the last word, Genevieve slammed down the phone, her voice shaky and hoarse. Her ringing ears embraced the silence, and only momentarily did she debate the wisdom of full disclosure in family matters.