Marilyn felt sluggish. She wanted to blame the pills that they made her take multiple times a day, but she knew that wasn't all that was causing this.
She was in pain.
She was grieving.
She remembered her wonderful life with her wonderful son, and then the words of the doctor that she saw every week would echo in her head.
That's not your son. Your son died in the fire in 1991. You took that boy, don't you remember?
And yes, she did remember the fire. She remembered the pain coursing through her body in waves for weeks after. She remembered how her mother had stepped in. And then she'd broken again when her mother passed, until she'd found the boy that reminded her so much of her Petey.
She knew that he wasn't the same Peter that she'd lost, but he was still hers, wasn't he? She went to back-to-school nights and soccer games and school plays. She hugged him and tucked him into bed every night for so many years.
She'd loved him and he'd loved her.
He was her son, even if he had been someone else once. She even told her doctors that.
