“I asked around. Jeremy, you’re someone you know. A good guy. About the right age. It measures up.”

I should have refused. I was about to do it.

“Only on weekends?”, I asked instead.

“Only on weekends. If you want, bring her flowers. Sit there for an hour. Smile. Go away.”

My hand moved before my consciousness could stop it. I brought the money closer to me and felt its weight settle in my palm like a small, heavy stone.

“When do I start?”

Almost smiled. For a moment, he seemed a man relieved to be able to put his burden on another’s shoulders.

“Saturday. And Jeremy. Don’t get attached.”

I nodded, already aware that I had agreed to become someone I wasn’t.

The hallway of the nursing home smelled of disinfectant and withered roses. My hands were sweaty as I repeated the name Tim had repeated ad nauseam on the phone the night before.

Room 214. I knocked once, opened the door and walked in.

Rosie was sitting by the window with a thin blanket folded over her knees. He raised his head slowly, blinking at the intense afternoon light.

—Mom —I said, the word sounding strange on my tongue—. It’s me. Tim.

For a long time, he just looked at my face. Then his expression softened and he raised a trembling hand towards me.

—Here you are! —whisper.

I crossed the room and took his hands. I expected to feel smart and distant. Instead, shame rose to my throat.

—Sit down, sit down —Rosie said, tapping on the chair next to her—. Have you eaten? You look tired.

“I’m fine, mom.”

“Do you get enough sleep, Timmy? You always demand too much of yourself.”

No one had asked me those questions in years. Not even after my father left. Not even after my mother got sick.

I stayed there for an hour, almost always letting her talk. Rosie talked about a garden I had never entered and a dog I had never had, and I nodded as if those memories belonged to me.

When I got up to leave, he squeezed my hand tightly.

“Come back soon.”

“I will, mom.”

As I turned toward the door, I looked back and saw tears shining in her eyes. He quickly turned around and wiped them with the edge of his blanket.

On my second visit, I brought tulips. In the third, I brought a little box of candy chocolates that the nurse told me Rosie liked. On the fourth visit, I arrived on a Wednesday, although Tim had not paid for that day.

In the hallway I met Margaret, a delicate woman with piercing eyes and a cardigan too big for her complexion. He saw me pass in front of his door with flowers in my hand.

“You visit her a lot”, she said.

“She is my mother.”

Margaret tilted her head. “He is the sweetest person of all. You’re lucky.”