CHANCE ENCOUNTER

CHANCE
ENCOUNTER

It
was the worst day of my life.  Well, almost.  But the worst happened
too many years ago so it really doesn't count.

I
have always imagined meeting the greatest love of my life looking my
best.  That I would be all made up and dressed, looking corporate and
chic, and probably in the sanctity of my own little office nook.
Never did I imagine meeting him again with my seven-year-old in tow,
looking hassled and fazed, with a dribble of chocolate ice cream on
my once-white shirt, a dripping ice cream cone in one hand.  Never
did I imagine that I would be wearing my oldest, faded jeans, and
that my hair would be pulled loosely in a pony tail, with no make up
on, with sweat glistening on my forehead, and yes, on the tip of my
nose.

But
it did happen, and I wished the earth would swallow me up when I
looked into those familiar hazel eyes, with the old twinkle and
amusement - until they were drawn by the insistent tugging on my
other hand.  Then something, I don't know what, flickered in those
eyes.  For a while, I was drawn back to that time when we loved each
other so much.

I
just stood there as he arched his brow and smiled at the boy now
looking up at him inquisitively.  The ice cream was slowly dripping
on my hand, but I just stood there drinking in the sight of him,
slowly being transported to a time I never dare allow myself to
remember.

He
was my greatest love.  And seeing him again made me realize that he
is still my greatest love.  I have never loved anybody like I did
love him, like I still do love him.  And I could feel all the
longing, all the hope, and all the love pouring out of my heart.

My
thoughts were interrupted by the persistent tugging on my hand.  And
when I looked down at my son, his face so close to the man I once
knew and loved, bent on his knees and peering so closely into his
face, my heart skipped and all thoughts were driven from my mind.
Replaced by a familiar fear and dread.  But at the back of my mind
were hope and the excitement of discovery.  And perhaps, relief.

"Your
son?  I see you in him."  He was facing me now, ruffling the
short hair of my son, looking intently at me.  Probably trying to
read my thoughts.  "Must be five years old."

I
can guess he was mentally calculating possibilities.  Probably
counting the years since we were last together.  And ruling out the
possibility of instant fatherhood.

I
did not correct him in his assumption.  Kyle is small for his age.
And although he had his seventh birthday a couple of months ago, he
still is usually mistaken for a five-year-old.  I just smiled at
Andrew and let him draw his own conclusions.  When finally faced with
the opportunity to tell him the truth, I simply lost the nerve.

"Mom,
who is he?"  Kyle was demanding attention now, and I knew we had
to walk away or my too-wise-for-his-age-son will figure out the
truth.  Andrew might have changed his hairstyle, and might be wearing
a tie, but he still looks like the man in the picture in my room.
And Kyle obviously saw the resemblance.

"I'm
Andrew, an old friend of your mom.  And you?"

"K.
A." my son replied, still looking at Andrew very intently.

"K.
A? And may I know what K.A. stands for?"

"K.
is for Kyle."  I could sense the hesitation in my son's voice as
slow realization dawned on him.

Before
Kyle could further say something, a woman I did not notice waiting
behind Andrew spoke up.  "Andrew, we'll be late for the doctor's
appointment."  Then she stepped forward and smiled at me.  A
sweet, innocent smile reached her eyes, as she reached for my hand
and introduced herself.  "Hi, I'm Susan.  Forgive my husband for
forgetting his manners.  He is always excited when he is around
children.  Especially now."

The
hand on the bulging tummy, barely noticeable in her loose caftan, was
joined by the very male hand of Andrew, gently caressing the soft
mound.  "We're having our first baby."  Susan's voice
cannot hide the excitement and the love she already feels for the
life growing inside her body.

Andrew's
hand dropped from the intimate caress, his eyes slowly searching
mine, for what, I did not dare guess anymore.  My heart was thudding
loudly, and I was afraid my face would show how upset and surprised I
was - to learn that Andrew is already married - and having his first
baby.  No, his second baby - he just does not know.

Feelings
of regret swamped me.  Regret at not having felt the soft caress at
my tummy while I was carrying Kyle.  Regret at not sharing the first
years of Kyle, the growing years when he should have known about the
baby I thought he never wanted.  Regret at not knowing him enough to
realize that he would want to share Kyle with me.

I
felt Kyle's piercing eyes, somehow knowing instinctively what
bothered me.  Kyle has always been sensitive about my moods and
emotions. He instinctively knows when there is something wrong - like
now.  I gently tugged at his hand and softly told him, "Honey,
we have to go now.  Say goodbye to Uncle Andrew and Aunt Susan now."

Typical
of Kyle, instead of simply saying goodbye, he opened his arms and
looked up at Andrew, silently waiting for a hug.  To my surprise,
Andrew laughed and indulged Kyle, quickly hugging him and planting a
quick kiss on Kyle's still-plump cheeks.  Then he looked into Kyle's
wide eyes, so like his own I was afraid he would see the resemblance.

I
could tell the exact moment Kyle accepted him as the man in the
picture.  The man he was always asking me about.  The man he
suspected was his father but did not have the courage to ask.  He
kept on looking at Andrew intently, touching Andrew's face, smiling
at his realization, at the discovery that here is the man in the
photograph in mommy's room.

Then
he looked up at me and saw the silent tears in my eyes.  He
recognized the silent plea not to tell Andrew anything, nor ask
anything.  I have always known that my son is too old for his age.
At seven years old, he is much too wise for his age.  Imperceptively,
he nodded and looked again at Andrew.  This time, there was regret in
his eyes.  And sadness.

Then
he smiled, bitterly, and spoke in a very small voice.

"Do
you want to know what the A in my name is for?"

"Ok,
what is the A in your name for?"  Andrew's smile was indulgent.

"The
A is for my father.  I was named after him."  Andrew's eyes
sought mine,  seeking confirmation.

I
couldn't hold on to his gaze, the tears threatening to flow.  I
tugged my hand from Kyle's hold, not hiding the tears anymore but
wanting to get away.  I couldn't speak from the lump in my throat.

And
as I turned away, I heard Kyle's soft voice.  "K.A. is for Kyle
Andrew."

Then
he held on to me, turning his back on the father he just met, holding
on tight to me.  As if by holding on to me, he was affirming his
loyalty and his acceptance of the truth I have not shared with him
before.

My
eyes were bleary, and I could not see where I was walking.  The
long-forgotten ice cream cone has melted, and I looked at it with
surprise.  I opened my hand and let the cone drop to the ground.
Like the tears that were already streaming down my face.  Tears for a
love I had lost long ago -- but has only now accepted as gone for
always.

My
feet were heavy.  But slowly and firmly moving away from the man we
accidentally met.  The man my son should have known all his life, and
the man my son is walking away from.  I can feel the heaviness in his
steps, and the slight droop to his shoulders.  And most of all, I
could see and feel the tears now flowing on his cheeks, and the deep
pain in his very young heart.  My son is only seven years old, but he
has grown so much in the few minutes we met Andrew and his wife.

We
never looked back.  But I could feel Andrew's gaze as we walked away.
I knew he was willing us to look back, but we both did not.  I could
feel his confusion and the question he dared not ask.  It was the
hardest thing I have done in my life.  And for a long time
afterwards, I would remember it as the saddest but sweetest thing my
son Kyle has ever done for me.

Andrew's
photograph no longer stands on top of my bedside table.  But I did
not throw it away.  I gave it to Kyle, a legacy from a father he
never knew, a father he only once met, and a father he gave up
without a thought, to protect me and maybe, to protect the unborn
sister or brother he would have had.

We
never knew if Kyle had a brother or a sister.  And he never asked nor
tried to find out.  But we both know he has a father out there,
somewhere.  My son was man enough to walk away from him one day, so
there will be less pain and hurt.  I hope someday, his father will be
man enough to get to know his other son.  For my son's sake, I hope
he will.

-
finis -