I accepted money to pose as an elderly woman’s son because I was desperate to keep my own mother alive. But then the woman I was cheating on started holding my hand as if I were really hers, and after her death, the nursing home informed me that they had left one last request intended just for me.
The clock on the dashboard read 11:47 when I parked my delivery van on the sidewalk in front of my mother’s apartment building. The rain blurred the streetlights, turning them into long yellow stripes. I stayed there for a few seconds, doing mental calculations, subtracting recipes from the rent, coming to the same conclusion as always.
I took the shopping bag and the paper bag from the pharmacy, and then went up the three flights of stairs.
Mom opened the door before I could knock, like she always did.
“You shouldn’t be out so late, honey.”
“Mom, I’m fine. I brought you your blood pressure pills and that soup you like.”
He took my face in his hands. His palms were warm, with the same warmth I had known all my life.
“You look tired, Jeremy.”
“I’m fine, mom.”
It was not good.
The next morning, I took advantage of a gap between shifts to make a delivery to a cafeteria. That’s when a man sat in the front seat without asking permission.
He looked rich.
You’re Jeremy, right? A friend of mine told me about you. He said you could use some extra income.
“Who is your friend?”
“Does not matter. What matters is that I have a problem and I think you can solve it.”
I should have gotten up and gone. Instead, I took another sip of coffee.
“My mother is in a nursing home”, the man said. “Her name is Rosie. Has dementia. On her good days, she tells everyone who listens to her that her son never comes to see her”.
“So, go see her.”
For a brief moment, his gaze wandered to the window.
—I can’t see her like that —he responded—. I have work obligations. Family members ask me questions. Family friends. It’s becoming a problem.
He pushed a folded wad of bills to the middle of the table.
Five hundred a week. Weekend visits. Call her mom. Act like you’re Tim. That’s my name. You won’t notice the difference, Jeremy. She no longer knows who is in front of her.
I stared at the money.
“That’s not right, sir.”
“Being right doesn’t pay your mother’s bills.”
The phrase hit the mark.
“How did you know about my mother?”
