A Chance Encounter - Part II

The bottle of wine in the younger man’s grip almost slipped from his fingers. “YES! That's my mother! You knew her?!”


“Your -- Your MOTHER? Wait, Silvia is -- your mother?” Never in his wildest dreams could Paulo have imagined Silvia as someone’s mother. Perhaps because the last time he saw her, well, she was practically a child herself… even if she was slightly older than him, she was always the instigator of their mischief.


“I told you, Doutor, yes! H-How did you know her?!” There was a hint of a nervous, hesitant whimper in Camilo’s voice.


“Silvia... Oh meu Deus... Silvia and I were great friends growing up!”


“You're joking!?”


“No not at all! Ha! Wow this IS crazy!” Paulo began pacing excitedly around the office, his speech almost too fast to capture, “Yeah Silvia – your mother -- well, she lived and worked at a vineyard next door to my grandparents' farm in Sanfins de Figueiras… it’s about an hour from here, where I spent my summer holidays as a kid.  Meu Deus, when we were kids I'd get so excited to spend my holidays at the farm and those days running amok with her all over the countryside.


“Puta que…... such a small world!!! I don't think I've ever met any of Mãe's childhood friends!”


“Well... now you’ve met one! And I'm delighted to see things turned out so well for her.” He analyzed the tall and gangly youth before him in detail, thirsty to guess the physical features that looked most like those of his old friend.  Well, his height was one possible obvious give-away.  Silvia’s towering, willowy frame was unusual among most women of Northern Portugal and a frequent subject of their jokes. He also seemed to have her high cheekbones, but the young man’s facial hair obscured too much to make any more comparisons.  “Tell me, how is she these days? Please, give her my regard.”


“I'm afraid... well, I'm so sorry to tell you, Doutor, but she’s… well, she’s passed away.” Camilo braced himself and spoke softly as he looked away towards his cabinets.


It took a few seconds before Paulo could digest what Camilo just said.  No, it could not be true! A rush of the most horrific possibilities for her demise flooded his head.  Silvia was a healthy girl: he never recalled her ever being sick! “What?! Oh no... meu Deus, I am so sorry, Camilo.  But – how? WHEN? She was so young... just three years older than I am!”


“Three years ago.  Cancer. Yeah... it's been... Well, it's been rough, to be honest.”


“AI MEU DEUS, Camilo, this is terrible. I am so sorry for your loss.” Was the sheer shock of it all the only thing keeping him from breaking down?!  He couldn’t tell.  He was rendered too numb to feel the thud as his heart sank to his core.


The young man’s prominent Adam’s apple reluctantly dropped down his neck as he swallowed, firmly fixing his serious composure, “It’s alright Doutor.  I appreciate the sentiment, and I’m certain Mãe does too… But, you came in here all enthused about buying some wine, which I’m still quite enthused to sell to you.  That is, of course, if you’re still interested.”


“Of course I am – I can’t imagine buying wine from anyone else now.  Wow… Silvia’s boy… It’s an honor, I tell you.”


The two men sat at the chairs that faced desk once Camilo set down an armful of bottles along with the bag of cups and a corkscrew in a well-rehearsed showcase manner with the labels facing Paulo.


“Likewise, Doutor. A friend of Mãe’s is a friend of mine. So um… what’s your preference? Whites? Reds? Rosés? Effervescents? These are all from Spain and Portugal, 2011’s and older.” He said as he waved an empty palm over the presented merchandise.


“Surprise me, Camilo! Oh and please, call me ‘Paulo’… Here, do have a sip for yourself as well. I believe a toast is in order.” Paulo squeezed a second plastic cup out of the bag and set it in front of the younger man.


“Ha! Alright, if you insist, Paulo. I think you’ll enjoy this Albariño quite a bit. One of the dryer Rias Baixas varieties. But quite refreshing on these scorching summer afternoons. I personally enjoy it with scallops or a simple risotto.”


With a fine, swift expertise, Camilo uncorked the bottle, allowed Paulo to sniff the cork and filled their cups.


“Obirgado, Camilo.  I’m normally a red wine man, myself. But I like them all, and I trust your expertise.  Well, saúde: to good friends, old and new!” Paulo raised his cup.


“Saúde!” Replied Camilo as the plastic clinked.


“Wow! This is phenomenal! Muito obrigado. And I really can see this going well with sea mollusks!”


“De nada! I had a feeling you’d like it, and I have more to show you if you like.”


“Mm… in a little.” Paulo closed his eyes and licked his lips, thoroughly savoring his serving, “Let’s enjoy this one first.  You know, I can see this paired with swordfish too!”


“Yes, any light fish or shellfish is nice with it.  Mãe liked it with ceviche.  Her favorite.”


“Impressive! Silvia taught you very well, I see. Although, I don’t recall her ever talking about having eaten ceviche.  Then again, we were just ignorant country kids with rather simple palates at the time. I still can’t believe – Damn! Silvia Salgueiro’s son, here right in front of me.  Your mother was always an ambitious girl … eagerly yearning to see, taste and feel the World for herself. A great girl though – and smart!”


“That she was.  …I guess she did accomplish a lot in her life.  No matter what, though she was first and foremost a phenomenal mother to me.” The young man brushed the fringe of his chestnut bangs back from his face as he sighed and stared at his serving of wine.


“Oh I’ll bet – Silvia must have been an extraordinary mother – Clearly! And… I... I’m sure you miss her a lot. I mean, Jesus, I haven’t heard a word from her in over thirty years and this news has… well, it’s hit me hard. Sorry… It’s just that, this whole situation, the fact that she’s gone – well, it’s not even begun to sink in!”


“It’s alright, Paulo. I’m still in complete shock having met you! This is crazy… someone who knows – well – possibly even more about my mother’s past than I do! Oh, and sorry. Would you like to try another sample?! Here, since you prefer reds, I have another Galician; fantastic 2008 Garnacha from Ribeiro you’ll love at home with a good Irish stew! I mean, unless you’re one to pair such a thing with beer.” Camilo took out two more plastic cups and filled them once again.


“Oh, muito obrigado, Camilo.  And come on, boy: doesn’t matter where I live, I’m still Portuguese, no? Viva o vinho! SAÚDE!”


“Saúde!” he toasted again.


“Oh wow… Puta que pariu,” Paulo licked his lips dry, desperate to savor every drop, “this is good wine! My boy, you certainly know your stuff! No surprises there.  Your mother certainly passed on her gift to you, didn’t she?!”


“Without a doubt – wine was her life! So you like it?”


“Camilo, this wine is incredible! I don’t like it, I LOVE it! Told you I was a red wine man. Next time I make venison, I know what I am serving with it!”


“Thank you, Paulo. Drank that rather quickly eh?! Would you like some more?!”


Without hesitation, the doctor held his cup out for refilling, “Please! Saúde!” the plastic clinked again.


“Saúde! And yes this would be excellent with venison or lamb.”


“I’m entirely sold on anything you give me right now, son! From now on you have my complete trust when it comes to wine selections – 100%!”


“Why thank you, Paulo! It will always be my pleasure, then!”


“So tell me, Camilo,” Paulo relaxed into his chair, resting his chin on his knuckles as he continued to analyze his host, reading deep into his hypnotic, cat-like green eyes, “permit me if I ask – and I almost forgot – but if Silvia’s your mother, who’s the lucky guy who got to be your father?!”


“Actually… uhhh… Paulo… Um… I’ve… err… never met my father.”


“Oh… I’m… I’m sorry! P-please, forgive me for – ”


“It’s quite alright, my friend.  It is what it is…  Mãe and I got along just fine on our own.  We were happy.”


“S-so she – she never married?!”  


“Nope!”


“Oh… I… see… Well, still good to see Silvia raised a fine gentleman on her own. I mean… women nowadays…” PORRA! Paulo cursed internally: he really just put his foot in his mouth! He never intended for that comment to seem so backwards and sexist: that wasn’t like him at all, “Well… she – she was always a very independent young woman, well-ahead of her time.  And wise.  D-did she ever… please forgive me if I seem at all rude, but did you know who he was at least? Perhaps I may even know him!”


“Sorry, Paulo.  I know very – and I do mean VERY little of him.  Hell, I don’t even know his name!”


“I-I’m so sorry…” The doctor stammered.  Suddenly he was all too aware that he very well could know ...  But no – the chances of that being the case were much too slim… were they? Would Silvia have even told him anything? “I – I… just…?! Um… w-what, again if you don’t mind me asking, what DO you know about him?”


“Well, she mentioned – in passing only – that he moved to England before I was born and they lost contact ever since.”


Paulo felt the weight of a boulder crash into his stomach.  He was sweating profusely and his healthy olive complexion rushed out of his face, leaving it a ghostly white.


“England…? Excuse me, but… did you just say ‘England’?”


“Yeah! England! Apparently he was some local private school prince from her village who received some sort of fancy opportunity or scholarship or something and… she told me – much later on – that she never told him she was pregnant! Why?”



‘Why?’ he asks… So she really didn’t say anything!  But still, what were the chances?
“ENGLAND?! Oh… crap... Well… no – no reason, really it’s just… Oh I am probably being silly, but, Camilo do you mind if ask how old you are?”


“Um… Thirty-two… Excuse me, Paulo?! Ah… Doutor Pereira?! Are – are you alright? Perhaps we should take a break from taste-testing. You look a bit peaky.”


“Thirty-two… let’s see, two thousand fifteen minus thirty-two… so you were born in… 1983? Which means Silvia was twenty-one and I was eighteen…”


Were he not sitting comfortably in a chair, with a table on which to balance his elbows as he dug his fingers through his messy, greying hair, Doctor Paulo Pereira was not certain if his knees could support his weight as his mental calculations confirmed his extraordinary suspicions. Nor was he certain that his advanced skills in mathematics were always such a blessing.


“Yeah, the 4th of June, 1983. Paulo, excuse me, but is anything wrong?”


“JUNE!? JUNE!?”


Paulo stood up.  He felt the blood drain from his head and neck.  Had he remained sitting, he would have definitely fainted.  But he was right about his knees.  He still needed to use the table top for leverage to remain standing.  Camilo was now genuinely worried and confused. He quickly moved his sample bottles from the table to the safety of his desk.  He contemplated calling for help.


“Yes… June! Oh Jesus, please don’t die in my office, sir!”


“Sorry, Camilo… I am so sorry.” Paulo reached for the front of the young man’s company polo, but lost his balance slightly as Camilo backed away, dumbfounded. Were the desk not within reach, he would have collapsed to the floor, “But it’s just… you see, the last time I saw your mother was in September, 1982 – when I enrolled in my first semester at University… OXFORD, University! Your birthday would be… about nine months after that.”


“Paulo… er… Doutor Pereira, um… you’re not suggesting what I think you are? Are you? Because if you are, I grossly overestimated your alcohol tolerance!”


“IT CANNOT BE!” Paulo’s verdant eyes widened as he looked deep into Camilo’s, slowly shaking his head, “I – I can’t believe this! HOLY SHIT… this… this is insane!”


“I agree!” Camilo nodded, but remained backed against the wall.


“Camilo, please… I am terribly sorry if I… look, I am not drunk – PLEASE: I’m about 80 kilos, Portuguese, living in Ireland, my wife is Irish and my best friend is English – It takes a hell of a lot more than three cups of wine to get me drunk – but it’s just… it’s all adding up! Can’t you see?! I was that boy – the one who went to England.  I had a scholarship to attend Oxford University! I left before you were born! Aii… Deus! SILVIA! How did she never say anything???”


“Oh shit… You… you are suggesting it… aren’t you?!”


“YES! Please believe me when I tell you this: Camilo I swear I had no idea – ”


“So… I ahh… I take it you and Mãe were ‘more than just friends’?”  Camilo shuffled his feet and stared at the floor.


“Ha… yeah.” Paulo ran his hands across the hair at the back of his neck, his face turning various shades of scarlet, “She ah… well. She was one of my best friends. Romances tend to blossom when two young people grow up together closely like that, with nothing but clean country air and wilderness around us. We didn’t have television or X-Boxes to keep us occupied! We were at the mercy of teenaged curiosity, rebellion, experimentation and hormones. Camilo, I am so sorry…”


“F-for what? L-look, I appreciate the sentiments, but really, how can you be sure it’s you?! Come on: what are the chances that some random guy just walks into my loja and oh, by the way! Turned out to be my-my…”


“Believe me, boy, I know!” Paulo paced around the office furiously, “ The chances are damn-near bloody impossible… almost! Um, would you m-mind taking off your glasses?”


“My  glasses?! What for?”


“Just… please, humor me!”


“Alright… here!” Camilo ripped the black frames from the bridge of his nose furiously, as though this was the only outlet for the barrage of feelings that were consuming him.


“Mãe de Deus… ” Paulo stared into the squinting, sea-green spheres before him and lost the ability to breath. “Camilo, you have her eyes!”


“Who’s eyes?!”, Camilo’s eyebrows quirked as he set his glasses back on his face.


“My mother’s – your grandmother’s! Here,” he said as he removed his own frames blinkingly, “See? I have them too.”


“This is ridiculous: a lot of people have green eyes!”


“Your mother’s were blue.  I remember them vividly – they were stunning!”


“I –…They were!” The young man exhaled, staring off to the distance as he settled his rear on the edge of his desk.


Paulo held out his glasses for Camilo to take, “If you would permit me to borrow your glasses, please? Here, try on mine!” Camilo reluctantly handed his pair over and took Paulo’s, wiping them on the soft dark green fabric of his company polo.


“I still… oh… SHIT,” He gasped as he looked around through the doctor’s pair.  The graduation on the lens was almost identical to his own, “would you look at that!? We have just about the same degree of near-sightedness.”


“And so we do… the slight degree variation is probably just due to ageing and over-use on my part.  At your age I used the exact degree you do.  Hehe… another thing we can thank my mother for! Sorry about that too.  She had beautiful eyes but they were as useless as a mole’s.”


“Look…look! I’m still not buying this! This is… this is ludicrous! Paulo, I –”


“Do you by chance have a mirror around?” Paulo interrupted as Camilo paced around his office aimlessly.


“I – yeah, come with me.  I have a mirror in my bathroom there behind that door.” He motioned and walked over to the door behind his desk.


“Going to need our glasses back if we’re to take a closer look at ourselves, filho!”


“RIGHT! Thank you!”