“That they thought I had died. The nurse was shocked. She wanted to call the police, report it to the authorities. But the hospital was very disorganized, a state-run place, far away, without proper facilities.”
“And I… I was so scared, Dad, so scared that you wouldn’t believe me. That you would think I was an impostor.” “Never, son, never.” Roman returned to the sofa and hugged the boy. “I left the hospital when they discharged me.”
“I couldn’t stay there forever. They gave me a crutch, a set of used clothes, and a ‘goodbye’. I ended up on the street. I slept under awnings, at church doors, under bridges. I begged for food. Sometimes a whole day would go by with nothing.”
Marina was crying so hard she couldn’t speak. “Until I saved enough money for a bus, I came here. I watched the house for a few days. I saw you leave, Dad, I saw you come back.”
“You were always alone, always with a dead look on your face. I wanted to gather the courage to knock on the door, but I couldn’t. Today I decided. I saw you going to the cemetery again, like you do every fifteenth of the month, and I thought: if I don’t say it today, I’ll never say it.”
“I followed you, waited for you to approach the grave, and I spoke.” Silence filled the room, with only the sound of the rain outside. Until Roman broke the silence: “And the boy? The one who died instead of you? Do you know anything else about him?”
Misha shook his head. “Only what teacher Anatoly told me later. When I visited him in the hospital before I was discharged, he felt very guilty. He said the boy’s name was Vanya.”
“He didn’t have a last name, at least he didn’t know it. He lived on the street near the school. The teacher always gave him food. On the day of the trip, he saw the boy digging through the trash and decided to take him along.”
“He thought it would be a happy day for Vanya, a day he had never had. Instead, it became his last day.” Marina added in a voice full of sadness, “And no one cried for him, no one looked for him, because no one knew he existed.”
“He died alone and was buried under my name. No one even knows he existed,” Misha said quietly. Roman stood up again, pacing from corner to corner, thinking.
“Tomorrow morning we’re going to the police, we’ll tell them everything, do a DNA test, prove that you are you.” He spoke firmly, organizing his thoughts. “And we’ll look for information about this boy, about Vanya. We’ll give him a proper funeral, with his real name, with respect.”
“It’s the least we can do. And we’ll sue everyone,” Marina said with anger. “The hospital that misidentified you. The morgue that made the mistake. Everyone who made our son go through this.”
“No, Mom.” Misha took her hand. “I don’t want revenge. I just want to live again, to be happy again, to be your son again.” Marina hugged him again, and the three of them remained in an embrace until sleep overcame them.
That night, Misha slept in his own bed for the first time in six months. Marina sat in a chair beside him, keeping watch, afraid that it was all a dream, afraid to wake up and find she had imagined everything. But it wasn’t a dream. Misha was here, breathing, alive. Their son had returned.
The next day dawned slowly. Marina hadn’t slept a minute. She watched her son all night, checking if he was still breathing, if he was still there. Every time Misha moved in his bed, her heart would stop with fear, relief, gratitude….
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