I accepted money to act like I was an elderly woman’s son because I was desperate to keep my own mother alive. But then the woman I was deceiving began holding my hand as if I truly belonged to her, and after she d:ied, the nursing home informed me that she had left one last request meant only for me.
The clock on the dashboard showed 11:47 when I eased my delivery van against the curb outside my mother’s apartment building. Rain smeared the streetlights into stretched yellow streaks. I remained there for a few seconds, doing math in my head, taking prescriptions away from rent, arriving at the same answer that never worked.

I picked up the grocery bag and the little paper pharmacy sack, then climbed all three flights.

Mom opened the door before I could knock, just like she always did.