i have a fake son.
his name is Tim and he is working on his M.S. in astrophysics at Berkeley.
he is devestatingly handsome and enjoys rock climbing and volunteers as a counselor at the local YMCA there in Berkeley, California.
i am so proud of my fake son. i have raised him up in my own head to be such an outstanding member of society.
âTimâ is only brought up when asked about by one particular woman at work that i only see on occasion. i donât make a habit or game of lying to people, but with her, it kinda came about as follows:
Faye is one of those people who has been there/done that and will hang herself on the cross while she tells you how much worse the experience was for her. iâve seen this woman Kanye West an 8-month pregnant girl at said girlâs own baby shower to glorify the gift she gave her as well as go into how horrible her labor was with her own children. Faye also is a braggart. her car/purse/house/ring/shoes/etc. all cost more than whatever yours did and her children are all angels.
i was forced to work with Faye for 2 days about 5 years ago. she called me Emily a few times before i finally told her my name is Amy, not Emily. she gave me a sideways glance and said, âI like Emily betterâ, and since then, she has always called me Emily. i let this go because to get angry with her and tell her off is to see her become dramatic and begin crying and insist she did not mean anything by it while not issuing anything close to an apology. Faye is always right, too, you know.
anyway, when she shut up long enough about herself and her fabulous offspring on the second day, she asked, âDo you have any children, Emily?â
i replied that i do not. she then launched into her daughter taking fertility drugs so that she could give her mother grandchildren someday.
that was the only question she asked me until i saw her about a year later.
âOh, HI, Emily! How are you?!â
âHi, FayeâŚhow are you?â
âWonderful, wonderful. Stephen just graduated from UT. Heâs going to be the best doctor ever! How is your son, uh, Tim?â
it took me a second. Tim? son? what the hell is she talking about?!
it dawned on me what a complete narcissist she truly is. she hadnât heard me the day she asked if i had children, because she didnât care. she didnât care enough to call me by my real name, so it wasnât much of a surprise.
i couldnât stop myself. i briefly thought about correcting her, but i decided to just go with it.
âTim is doing so well. He was just accepted to Berkeley after his amazing thesis on planetary nebuli. We are so proud of him.â
her eyes grew big. âOh, how nice! But, Berkeley? Thatâs so far from home. UT is an excellent school; surely he couldâve been accepted there?âŚâ
i gave a small chuckle. âOh, well, they wanted him for sure, Faye. I mean, all the letters he received, practically BEGGING him to study there. But, well, they just donât have a sufficient astronomy department. UT is a fine school, but not for the subject that Tim is going into. Astrophysics is not something you can study just anywhere, you know.â
her eyes narrowed. âMedicine is what these young people should be going into. Astrophysics? What is that, anyway? How will it contribute to the world?â
âGosh, I donât really know how to explain astrophysics, Faye. Itâs so mind blowing for simple minds like mine and yours. But searching for things in space that could potentially help our planet is a pretty big deal, I think.â
Faye promptly excused herself. i knew i had gotten her.
iâve bumped into her on and off throughout the past 5 years and she always told me how her angels were saving the world, especially Stephen, and then sheâd ask about Tim. and i made sure my Tim was one step above her Stephen. her face would turn crimson and she would have to abruptly leave.
i saw her as i was leaving work yesterday and she stopped me to wish me a happy Easter.
âStephen is coming home this holiday. Heâs bringing his fiance. Sheâs a doctor too, you know. How is Tim? Donât tell me heâs still not graduated?âŚâ
âOh, Faye, donât be silly! Astrophysics takes YEARS to graduate from. Itâs not as simple as medicine. But, yes, he is close to graduating.â
âIs he coming home for Easter? I canât imagine spending holidays without my children; how dreadful! Oh, but heâs all the way in CaliforniaâŚit costs so much to fly here, I assume.â
I grinned. âYes, it does. But heâs such a sweetheart, heâs flying me out there this year! Taking a break from his studies and humanitarian efforts to have his dear olâ Mom around for Easter. Iâm so lucky!â
ââŚyes, well, have a nice time, Emily. Happy Easter!â
âYou too, Kay! Oh, I mean Faye!â
you know, like i said before, i donât like to lie. it does seem very silly to have let this go on for so long. Tim has been a fabrication in the making for over 5 years now, he almost feels real to me.
when i see Faye, i have images of my fake son, looking so handsome in his lab coat as heâs peering into a microscope looking at dust particles from a comet. i see him jogging with his dog on the beach. i see him hiking and biking and climbing. i see him helping an elderly woman with her groceries.
itâs a true testament that if you lie, or let a lie go on for a while, it becomes a solid thing that you have to keep up with.
oddly enough, i donât lose sleep on this lie. i donât see her often enough to fib about this on a daily or consistent level. Faye never cared anything about me or my life until she had something to try to one-up me on. SHE is the one losing sleep on account of her Stephen not succeeding quite like my Tim. itâs amazing how this lie has eaten her alive and made me feel proud of something that doesnât even existâŚ
eh well.
iâll be boarding the fake plane to Berkeley this afternoon, to celebrate Easter with my fake son.
Mamaâs soooo proud of you, Timmy!
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