I never imagined I would be paid to pretend to be someone else’s son.
At the time, I was desperate.
My mother was battling serious health problems, medical bills were piling up faster than I could pay them, and every month felt like a fight to keep my head above water. I worked long hours, skipped meals when money ran short, and constantly worried about what would happen if another unexpected expense appeared.
Then a stranger offered me an opportunity that sounded strange, uncomfortable, and impossible to explain.
All I had to do was visit an elderly woman living in a nursing home.
Call her “Mama.”
Spend time with her.
Pretend I was the son who no longer came to see her.
In return, I would be paid enough money to help keep my own family afloat.
I told myself it was just a job.
A temporary arrangement.
Nothing more.
I was wrong.
The first time I walked into Room 214, my heart was racing.
The room was quiet except for the soft hum of an old television. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating photographs arranged carefully along a shelf.
Rosie sat beside the window, looking smaller than I expected.
Lonelier, too.
When I stepped inside, she looked up at me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
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