The Portrait (Short Story)

Teté looked around her new home. It didn't look so inviting. After returning from a three-month service trip in Teresina, her new apartment was bare and the boxes that had been packed by the moving service where stacked against a wall. Although she was a little apprehensive, it was the change she needed. She had just finished law school three months ago and it was time to move on to the next stage in her life.

"I might as well start now," she thought to herself. "Maybe some pictures will give some life in this place."

Teté started to search through the boxes and began hanging the paintings and photos on the wall. As she picked up a black and white photograph in a simple silver frame, her hand shook a little.

"This is where it all began" she thought "The photo that changed my life".

Her eyes washed over the faded image and she gingerly traced her fingers over the delicate features of the girl's face. The roughness of her skin, her uneven bangs, the sun bleached hair. The girl’s eyes were sunken, the face thin and gaunt.

"Me. That was me clasping the tiny, toast colored puppy in my lap," she thought.

"How long ago was that?" she murmured "14-15 years ago?"

It was the same year my mother left. My mother and I had been living with Avó Albertina in the Favela da Rocinha. Although she was not my true grandmother, we all lived as a family. Avó had first taken in my mother after she came to Rio.

If it were not for Avó, my mother would have been trapped in the sex trade forever. Befriended by Avó, she had the support to turn away from that and try to begin a new life. Avó helped my mother find honest work washing clothes together for the community to make a living.

My mother was a free spirit, and had come from the northeast of Brazil from a town called Teresina. She was seeking opportunity and a new life in Rio. She had a natural beauty, with long straight light brown hair and bronze skin. She had a beautiful smile, a wide mouth that made her whole face light up. Her eyes were so expressive, a deep sea-foam green. The same as mine.

The life in the Favela was only one of sustenance. My mother was still restless, and always yearned for something better. She often left Rosinha to wander the city, longing for a chance of a better life.

One day she realized that she was pregnant with me. She stopped wandering and started to work harder with Avó. After I was born, Avó's tiny one-room home became even smaller. I was a new inspiration for my mother, and she tried to find work anywhere she could. She would never talk to me about my father and soon I stopped asking. Finally, when I was 5 she found a job in a wealthy home in Niteroi, across the bay. She was gone for long periods of time, but when she returned she always brought clothes and food to us. She said that I should not worry, and promised me that she would always come back to me. Once, after a long period of time, she didn't come back.

I was heartbroken and sad, and I would often wander outside the Favela hoping to find her.

I stayed with Avó and she cared for me the best she could. Although I was young, I began to work washing clothes beside Avó. She was getting older and was beginning to feel her age. I can still remember the blistering sun beating down on my narrow, tiny shoulders as we washed clothes until our hands were cracked and red. My light skin still carries the freckles from that time in the sun. Arroz e feijão and sometimes macarrão, our daily meal of that time, stirs the memories of my life with Avó. I am forever grateful to Avó Albertina. She gave everything that she could to support me after my mother was gone. Even after many years living in a Lutheran boarding school, I still pray in the morning and before bed as if Avó Albertina was next to me, repeating "Ave María, cheia de graça, o Senhor e com vozco..."

Then the day came that my life changed forever. I was wandering around the upper class neighborhoods of Rio searching for signs of my mother. Before I realized where I was going, I lost my way. As I was frantically searching for a familiar sight, I heard whining. It sounded so desperate and lost, like me. As I got closer I saw a small light brown puppy with huge coffee-colored eyes huddled in a comer. I scooped him up and held him to me; we found comfort in each other. As we wandered around the neighborhood together, that was when I saw it. A notice for a lost puppy. I wanted to ignore it at first, but what would my mother say about that? I knew I had to do the right thing. So I searched for the address and eventually found it. The man who answered the door had kind, soft hazel eyes. He invited me in and offered me something to eat. He motioned toward an oversized beige leather chair and I sat down. I clung to the puppy so tightly that he let out a little yelp. I loved the cozy feeling of him in my arms. When the man returned from the kitchen, he carried with him a camera. He held up the camera and took a photo.

"Something to remember me by." He said as he handed me a copy while showing me out. He then asked where I was headed. I told him where I lived but was unsure about how to get back. He offered to show me the way home.

 The man who took my picture was a photographer named Roberto. Little did he know that the photograph was to become the key to his success. After sending in the picture to Veja magazine, his photography business flourished. It brought him fame, and catapulted his work into the spotlight. It seemed he owed all his success to this one picture of a tiny girl and his dog. He soon began to wonder about the small child in the photograph and one day decided to seek me out. He found me in the Favela and told me that he felt indebted to me for his immense success and somehow wanted to find a way to repay me.

Through his thriving business, he was able to send me to The Lutheran University of Brazil, a boarding school in which I could live and study. As much as I didn't want to leave Avó, she knew that this was an opportunity of a lifetime and would never allow me to stay with her in Rosinha.

While in school I knew that I had to work harder than ever so that I would never have to go back to where I came from. I missed Avó terribly, but I knew that I could never live that life again. I became head of my class and immersed myself in extra-curricular activities and sports. I wanted to be the best I could and to make my mother proud. I visited Avó every chance I could until she passed away. Through perseverance and hard work, I finished high school and was able to earn a full scholarship to University.

Although I was grateful to get out of the Favela, I still felt that it was a part of my past, one that would never leave me. I felt it was my duty to help others and therefore, I got involved in "Amigos da Escola". I had been given a second chance; it was my responsibility to give others that same chance. By deciding to study law, I had decided to become an advocate for those less fortunate than myself.

"Brrrring" The ringing of the phone brought Teté out of her trance.

"Alo? "

"Oi Thiago, tudo bom?"

"Ta, to saindo"

"Um beijo"

She quickly pulled her long straight sun-streaked hair back into her usual low chignon and slipped into a narrow black knee length skirt and a crisp, freshly pressed white blouse. She added small white pearl earrings and checked her reflection one last time in the mirror before heading out.

"Not bad", she thought as she grabbed her purse. "I'm looking forward to tonight."

It was an opening at one of her favorite art galleries. Since her boarding school days, she had come to appreciate the fine arts.

"Miró" was not too far from her new apartment, so she decided to walk; it gave her time to reflect upon the last few months since graduation. The walkway was one of her favorite places to think. As she walked she began to sing to herself, "Vou deixar a vida me levar..." (I will let life take me...) it seemed funny, considering that during her entire life she had fought to be in control of her own destiny.

She stopped an ice-cream man and bought herself an "asaí" Popsicle. "Que delicia!"

The taste of the fruit reminded her of the stories and folktales that her mother used to tell her about Teresina. She could feel the summer breeze on her face and felt on top of the world. She felt as if there was nothing she couldn't conquer.

"Pretty woman, walking down the street, pretty woman, the kind I'd like to meet..."

She used to sing this song at her boarding school. Now this song fit. At this moment, she truly felt like a "Pretty woman".

A short while later, she entered "Miró". She had been frequenting this gallery since she was 19 years old. That was when she had first met Thiago.

She headed straight to Thiago's office and greeted him as usual. Thiago was busy preparing for the opening and he quickly kissed her on both cheeks.

"Oi Teté, welcome back, how was your trip up north? Were you able to save the world?"

"Hardly"

"You work so hard, lighten up girlfriend! Tonight will be just fabulous!" Thiago said as he was fluttering around his office. "Love to stay and chat, but I must get back to work (details, details)….have some champagne and feel free to look around. Got to go beijinho, beijinho"

                 
Teté went out into the gallery, and began to walk around the room. "How incredible" she thought. "These portraits are captivating".

As she looked more closely at the paintings, she began to feel as though she was familiar with them. The faces in front of her were filled with so much character. The paintings had a profound affect on her and she began to feel overwhelmed, but could not tell why.

Suddenly, as she was circling her way back to the front of the room, Teté stopped abruptly. She stared at the portrait in front of her.

"What is this?" she gasped. Where's the paint...?"

"Thiago!" she called frantically.

She hurried back towards the office, in search of her friend.  

"Thiago, there you are!" she said breathlessly as Thiago stepped out of his office.

"Yes, Teté?"

"Where is this artist, is he here? I must speak to him!"

"He is in my office now, so let's go meet him."

             

They went to the office and Thiago got Teté a chair. She calmed down a bit, but her mind was racing.

"Teté, this is Axel Klotz, the artist." Thiago said as he introduced a tall thin man with a heavily lined forehead. His blue eyes and light skin said that he was of European descent.

His face told of sadness, a hard life.

Axel eyed this beautiful young woman, studying her features. Long limbs, strong body, and straight, sandy blond hair. He could see a story in her face, and her eyes...

"The woman" Teté said as she led him out to the painting. "The one with the green eyes"

                 

"Oh this one?" Axel said; as they arrived in front of the feature piece. "Bonita, né?  I remember her."

"What can you tell me about her?"

"Well, it was back in '78 or '79... I was living in Santa Teresa, lost in my work. It was a dark period in my life; I was still grieving my late wife and child. I saw this woman wondering the street, looking for something. I offered to pay her to pose for me and we worked together for a couple of months, she was a wonderful muse. We developed a relationship that went beyond the work. But then one day, she never came back. I really wish I could have painted more of her."

"I know why she never came back."

"Que?" He turned to look into her soft green eyes. "What do you mean?"

"She never came back because she was pregnant."

"My mother was pregnant."