What was your most awkward “hahaha…. oh wait you’re serious” moment?

The Betrayal and Delusion

My parents sold me to my dead best friend’s grieving father for half a million dollars. Then let him drag me out of work in front of everyone while calling me Mike, his son’s name, and showing me his baby pictures.

When I begged my mom to take me back, she touched my arm and whispered, “Sweetie, he needs a son, and we need a home.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to because Mike was about to have his revenge.” After my best friend Mike crashed into a pole and died, my world fell apart, and his dad’s did, too.

I still remember the look on his face as he grabbed his son’s lifeless body in the hospital, like sand slipping through his fingers. I tried to let them have their alone time together.

But after an hour, when he refused to let go, I had to use my strength to drag him out of the room. And as his weak hands trembled and grabbed my shoulders like it would bring his son back to life, I thought I was doing the right thing.

I had no idea that it would soon be the worst mistake of my life. That night, as I lay awake in my bed, wondering if Mike’s death was somehow preventable, I got a call.

It was his dad telling me he was outside my front door. I swear I thought he was pranking me. But when I opened up there, he was standing in the rain.

Before I could process what was happening, he lunged at me for a hug.

Mike, I’ve missed you.

I froze. Mike was the name of my dead best friend. I didn’t know what to do, so I just nodded and asked him to come inside.

By this point, he was causing so much noise that my parents woke up and came downstairs. William, best friend’s dad, turned to them and said, “Oh, Mike, are these your friends? Nice to meet you. I’m Mike’s father.”

The room was completely silent, and that’s when he grabbed my neck and ruffled my hair. Finally, I saw something click in their eyes as they realized what was going on.

I expected them to talk some sense into him. Instead, they fed into his grief psychosis.

“Nice to see you. Your son is a pleasure to have around,” my mom exclaimed.

Meanwhile, my dad just shook his hand. I sighed. They walked back upstairs and left me with him.

And that’s how I ended up spending all night playing Uno with my dead best friend’s dad, who was convinced that he was playing with his son. The second he left, I shook my parents awake.

“Guys, what the hell? Why didn’t you say anything?

Be patient with him. He lost his only child.” My dad interrupted, his tone cold and assertive.

That’s when my mom chimed in, “Son, you know that he helped pay for most of your medical bills. The least you can do is to be there for him.

Deep down, I knew it was wrong. But the grief made my head so foggy that I barely even knew what day it was, let alone what was right or wrong. So, for weeks, I played the part.

Whenever William asked me to spend the night at his, I said yes. Whenever he made me lasagna, Mike’s favorite meal that I was allergic to, I would eat it anyway and spend the night on the toilet.

It made him so happy that it was impossible not to do. Plus, my parents were non-stop gushing over how I was such an amazing and supportive person.

In fact, there was only one person who didn’t like it, and that was Ashley, my girlfriend at the time. Because whenever I had to leave William’s house to go see her, he tried to stop me.

It was innocent at first. He’d joke about wanting me all to himself, or how he had to interrogate her about her true intentions. But on the 2-month anniversary of Mike’s death, things took a dark turn.

I was going to spend the day with her to grieve and let myself heal. But William insisted that we go to the Griffith Observatory in LA, Mike’s favorite hangout spot.

His voice was cheery, but his eyes were filled with desperation. I told him no, but that I would spend the night before with him. He nodded with disappointment, but I didn’t care.

It was hard pretending like I was fine all the time. Well, our date never happened because the next morning Ashley broke up with me over the phone.

You effing you messed me around, blah blah blah.

She cursed at me for 5 minutes straight before blocking me on everything. I honestly thought she had had some sort of mental break until her friend sent me screenshots saying, “I can’t believe you.”

Turns out someone had made me a Tinder profile. In my bio read, I have a girlfriend that I hate and I want to cheat on.

And of course, her best friend saw it and sent it to her. That’s when I finally snapped. I stomped down the stairs to see William in the kitchen making pancakes.

What the f were you think?

I asked. My voice flat.

He just laughed.

Son, women come and go.

I’m not your son.

I interrupted. He dropped his spatula on the floor.

Mike, what are you talking about? Don’t be so silly. Let’s sit down and eat breakfast together.

I kept my face neutral.

William, your son is dead. He died in the bus crash that day and you haven’t seen him since. We can’t keep doing this.

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. I walked out and never looked back. Update. Me and William kept our distance from each other after that.

Last I heard, he self admitted himself into a mental institution to get help. So, I thought everything would be okay until my mom walked into my bedroom one day holding a file. In them were adoption papers.

Sweetie, she said. William made us an offer we couldn’t refuse.

I stared at the papers in disbelief. My hand shook as I grabbed them from her. The header read, legal adoption agreement with William’s name listed as the adopting parent and mine as the adoptee.

My stomach churned.

$500,000.

My mom continued, sitting down on my bed. He says he needs a son to inherit his late wife’s estate before some deadline. Your father and I already signed their preliminary papers.

The room spun. I dropped the papers and they scattered across my floor.

You did what?

She reached for my hand, but I pulled away.

Honey, we didn’t have a choice. The medical bills from your surgeries when you were younger. The second mortgage we took out were drowning.

The bank sent us a foreclosure notice last week. I stood up so fast my chair tipped over.

So, you sold me like I’m some kind of property.

It’s not like that, she pleaded. William loves you. He’s been like a second father to you anyway. This just makes it official on paper.

He thinks I’m his dead son, I shouted. And you’re taking advantage of a grieving man’s mental breakdown for money.

My dad appeared in the doorway. His face stern.

Lower your voice. This is happening whether you like it or not. We need this money to save our home.

I grabbed my backpack and started shoving clothes into it.

I’m not signing anything.

You’re being selfish, my dad said. After everything we’ve sacrificed for you, I pushed past him and headed for the front door.

My mom called after me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stay in that house another second. I crashed at my friend Theo’s place that night, sleeping on his couch.

The next morning, I dragged myself to my job at the electronic store, hoping work would distract me from the mess my life had become. Around noon, my manager, Sebastian, approached me at the register.

“Your dad’s here to pick you up for lunch?” I frowned.

“My dad doesn’t pick me up for lunch.” Sebastian pointed toward the entrance where William stood, waving enthusiastically. My blood ran cold.

“That’s not my dad,” I said.

Sebastian laughed.

“Come on, family resemblance is obvious. Take your lunch break.”

Before I could explain, William was already at the counter.

“Ready for a father-son lunch, Mike?” I gritted my teeth.

“I’m working.”

“Nonsense,” William turned to Sebastian. “You don’t mind if I borrow my son for an hour, do you?”

“Of course not,” Sebastian said. Family comes first.

William grabbed my arm and practically dragged me out of the store. In the parking lot, I yanked away from him.

“Stop this,” I hissed. “I’m not Mike. I’m not your son. You need help.”

His smile never wavered.

“The adoption papers are ready. Your parents are being very cooperative. All we need is your signature.”

“Never happening,” I said and walked back inside.

This became a pattern. Every few days, William would show up at my work. He’d tell my co-workers stories about raising me and bring baby photos of the real Mike, claiming they were me.

My co-workers started treating me differently, asking why I was so cold to my loving father. My performance suffered. I was constantly on edge, watching the door.

I made mistakes at the register. Mixed up inventory. Sebastian pulled me aside after 2 weeks of this.

I’m giving you a warning, he said. I understand family can be complicated, but you need to focus at work.

I tried explaining, but he wouldn’t hear it. That man is clearly your father. Whatever issues you have, work them out on your own time.

The warnings piled up. I was one write up away from being fired when I decided to check my mail at my parents’ house while they were at work. The mailbox was empty, which was odd. We always had junk mail at least.

I used my key to get inside and found stacks of mail on the kitchen counter already opened. My hands trembled as I sorted through them.

College acceptance letters from three schools, scholarship offers, all with deadlines that had already passed. At the bottom of the pile was a note in William’s handwriting.

Mike doesn’t need college. He has family.