A Short Story: Tell Me You Are My Son

 

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Tell Me You Are My Son

    When I was in my early twenties, there was this time when I was waiting at a bus stop and the woman next to me began to tell me about her son. It was just the two of us at the bus stop, and I could see that she was happy talking about her son, and so I became interested and I listened and spoke a few words here and there. The conversation was pleasant and to this day I don’t remember the specifics, but I do remember she was talking about her son and that she was so proud of him and was so happy. I was happy for her, but then she suddenly said that she didn’t know where her son was. Then she asked me this question, “Are you my son?”

I said, “No, I’m not your son.”

    Nothing prepared me for this question. Until this moment, there was nothing unusual about her. Then she changed from being happy to being hopeful and desperate. She kept asking me if I was her son and if I could please be her son. It kind of went like this,

She said, “You are my son. Please tell me you’re my son.”

I said, “I’m not your son.”

She said, “Are you my son?”

I said, “No, I’m not.”

She said, “I think you are my son. Tell me you are my son please.”

I said, “No, I’m not your son.”

She said, “You are my son. You look like him!”

I said, “No, I don’t look like your son.”

She said, “Please tell me you are my son.”

    She had this look of hope on her face and for a moment, I wanted to tell her that I was her son, but I couldn’t. She sank back into the bench and looked downward as I got up and walked to the bench on the other side of the bus stop. As I sat there, I kept thinking, “I can’t be who I’m not.” And I kept thinking, “She wanted me to be someone I wasn’t.” Before this experience, I would think, “Who am I?” But there at that moment, I knew I wasn’t her son. When the bus arrived, I was relieved to see that the woman did not get up to get on the bus. And when I got into my seat, I looked at her through the window and for a moment, I wanted to run off the bus and tell her that I was her son, so that she would be happy.

    Many people have been mistaken for another person. You may have experienced this, when a stranger called out to you because they believed you were another person. Maybe they came up to you from behind or they called to you across a long way. Or you, yourself may have mistaken someone else as another person just for a moment. Do you remember the initial look on their face? That initial look of surprise, or of shock, or of anger? Then upon seeing their reaction and realizing your mistake, you apologize. You would be perplexed and surprised by your mistake as well. You apologize because you know that you made a mistake, but also because you know it’s an offense to the person. You know this because you believe the same for yourself.

    But imagine that the person in that instant decided to go along with the mistaken identity and claimed to be that person you had mistaken them for, but you realized that they were lying to you. You would be surprised because the person claimed to be someone you know they are not. Maybe they said it because they were angry and said it with the intent to harm you, or maybe they believed they could convince you they was the person you were looking for, or maybe they thought they could could help you in some way. No matter the way, you would be surprised, even angry because of their lie.

    After I got on the bus, my life continued and I quickly forgot about the woman at the bus stop. Now, many years later, I have been thinking about her. I have been thinking, what would have happened if I had lied and told her I was her son? I can only imagine, that she would have realized the truth at some point and the true horror of what I would have done to her. I have told many lies in my life. Why did I not tell this lie? From my reaction, and even though I didn’t know who I was, for example, what was my purpose and meaning in life, I knew I wasn’t her son. It was a lie I couldn’t live with even though I wanted her to be happy.

    Did the woman at the bus stop mistaken me for her son? No, I don’t think so. I think there must have been something else going on. Maybe an illness. I don’t believe her intention was to harm me. I do believe she wanted to see her son again. And maybe there was something about me that reminded her of her son. At that moment, she wanted me to be her son. She didn’t know for sure if I was her son because she wanted me to tell her I was her son. I can only hope that by denying to be her son, I helped her in some way. The problem in my story isn’t that the woman wanted me to be her son, it’s that we live in a broken world. A world where a lie can feel good and it can feel like the right thing to do. Because to us, there is a way that feels right and good, but in the end, it will only lead to harm and destruction. To find truth, look to Jesus. Read about him in the bible.