Radical

This is a narrative version of how my grandmother asked my grandfather out, with translated dialogue from my grandfather's point of view.

"1964 marked the Brazilian coup.

"My job at the journal became more conservative, and my job at the radio, more radical. By day, I would write things for the dicatorship and by night, with the help of some of my university friends, we would broadcast our opinions to those who would listen.

"Your grandmother was more obvious about it. She was a wild child, all attitude, miniskirts, and lipstick. And she was nearly impossible to compete with at school. By this point, we'd already fallen into our rivalry.

"She was a vision, as the sun came up she'd yell out into the streets, spreading her pamphlets in front of the other students.

"The day I met her properly, without a hateful exchange, was a sunny day in June, 1967. I'd heard at the journal that the police would be at the school around noon after a tip from a teacher. My job guaranteed my safety, but your grandmother and the others were all but spitting on these people.

"I excused myself early, complaining of pain, then I hopped on my bike and zoomed all ten miles to the school.

"There she was, red skirt this time, with a long sleeved shit, talking about Trotsky. She turned to me and smirked before asking if I was there to watch her lecture.

"It was nearing noon, and we were running out of time. I yelled to the campus "The Police are Coming!" And everyone got to their feet. I stayed back, helping everyone climb over the back wall as the sound of cars approached. Your grandmother, of the same self sacrificing spirit, stayed back as well. When everyone had cleared and it was just us, I helped her up the wall and made my way over it myself.

"We hopped down and laughed for about an hour before she asked me out to dinner."