Sixteen-year-old Eric slips away from his foster family on a camping trip, desperate to find his real mother and the answers he’s always craved. But as he faces hard truths about the past and what family truly means, Eric’s journey takes a turn he never saw coming.
The car filled with excited chatter and Mila’s occasional giggles as she wiggled in her booster seat, her eyes wide with excitement. We drove along the winding road, heading to our campsite. My foster parents, Paul and Joseline, were taking us camping.
Paul glanced in the rearview mirror, catching my gaze and offering a warm smile. I tried to smile back, but I couldn’t shake the knot of worry in my chest.
I was almost 16 and understood my place in the family — or at least, I thought I did. Paul and Joseline had taken me in as their foster child when I was 12. They’d told me I was family, even though I wasn’t their own child by blood. Mila was their biological daughter, a toddler full of energy and life.
For years, they’d treated me with a kindness I’d never known before, showing me what it felt like to be truly cared for. But now, with Mila, things felt different. I wondered if they’d still want me now.
“We’ll stop here at the gas station; you can stretch your legs,” Paul said, turning off the engine as we pulled over. I felt the cool air hit my face as I stepped out, and I lifted little Mila from her seat, setting her down gently. She clung to my hand, her tiny fingers gripping mine tightly as she curiously looked around.
My gaze, however, was drawn to the other side of the road, where an old, weathered diner sign hung, faded and cracked. A strange feeling stirred in my chest as I looked at it, an odd sense of familiarity that I couldn’t place. I reached into my backpack, pulling out a worn photograph — the only thing left from my past, from my real parents.
In the photo, baby me stood beside a woman, my biological mother, with a sign in the background just like the one in the gas station.
Joseline, my foster mom, walked over, noticing me staring at something in my hand. “Everything alright?” she asked gently, her voice filled with warmth.
I quickly slipped the photo into my pocket, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” I replied, trying to sound casual.
Paul called from the car, “Alright, family! Time to hit the road again.”
I took one last glance at the diner sign before getting back in the car with Mila and Joseline.
Within an hour, we arrived at the campsite, a quiet, wooded area surrounded by tall trees and the sound of rustling leaves. I helped Paul set up the tents, quietly going through the motions, my mind still on the photo.
After dinner by the campfire, Joseline and Mila headed to bed. Paul looked over at me. “Are you going to bed now?”
I shook my head. “I’ll stay up a bit longer.”
Paul nodded. “Don’t stay up too late. Big hike tomorrow. You sure you’re okay, kiddo?”
I forced a smile. “Yeah, just not tired yet.”
“Alright,” Paul said, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading to bed.
I sat by the campfire, watching the last embers flicker, my thoughts drifting back to the photo I’d tucked away. I pulled it out once more, studying the faded image in the dim light.
Written neatly on the back were the words “Eliza and Eric.” The woman holding me had a faint smile, but I couldn’t remember her at all. Glancing over at the tent where my foster family slept, I felt a pang of guilt. They had always been kind and always treated me with care.
I slipped the photo into my pocket with a sigh, went to my tent, and picked up my backpack. I checked its contents — my few belongings, a bottle of water, and the sandwiches Joseline had made for me.
She’d even cut the crusts off, remembering how I didn’t like them, just as she had when I first arrived at their home. Small acts like this made me feel seen, but still, I wondered if I truly belonged, especially now that they had Mila.
Taking one last look at the campsite, I turned and walked down the path toward the main road, the cold air biting at my cheeks.
It was pitch dark, and I switched on the flashlight on my phone, remembering how Paul and Joseline had handed it to me with a smile. “We need to know our kid is safe,” they’d said. If they really thought of me as their own, wouldn’t they have adopted me by now? Maybe they were waiting to see if their real daughter was enough for them.
I walked along the road, shivering in the night air, my heart pounding with each step. After hours, I finally saw the dim lights of the diner.
Taking a shaky breath, I stepped inside, my eyes adjusting to the gloomy interior. At the counter stood an old man, who looked at me with a frown as I approached with a photo in hand.
The old man behind the counter narrowed his eyes at me. “We don’t serve kids here.”
“I don’t want anything to eat. I just have a question.” I pulled the photo from my pocket, unfolding it carefully. “Do you know this woman?”
The man took the photo, peering at it with a frown. “What’s her name?”
“Eliza,” I replied, hoping for a sign of recognition.
The man’s face shifted slightly, and he tilted his head toward a noisy group in the corner. “That’s her over there.” He handed back the photo, shaking his head. “She looked different back then. Life’s taken a toll.”
My heart pounded as I approached the table. I recognized the woman from the photo — older now, worn down, but definitely her. I cleared my throat. “Eliza, hi,” I said.
She didn’t respond, absorbed in her loud conversation.
I tried again, louder this time. “Eliza.”
She turned, finally noticing me. “What do you want, kid?”
“I… I’m your son,” I said quietly.
“I don’t have any kids.”
Desperate, I held up the photo again. “It’s me. See? Eliza and Eric,” I said.
“Thought I got rid of you,” she muttered, taking a long drink from a bottle.
My voice trembled. “I just wanted to meet you.”
Eliza looked me over with a smirk. “Fine. Sit down, then. Maybe you’ll be useful.” Her friends chuckled, and I sank awkwardly into a chair, feeling out of place.
After some time, Eliza looked around the diner, glancing toward the counter. “Alright, time to leave. Let’s get out before the old man catches on.”
The group started to stand up, gathering their things. I felt uneasy and looked at Eliza. “But you haven’t paid,” I said.
Eliza rolled her eyes. “Kid, that’s not how the world works if you want to survive. You’ll learn that,” she replied.
I hesitated, reaching into my backpack. I pulled out some cash, ready to leave it on the table, but before I could, Eliza snatched it from my hand and shoved it into her pocket.
As we headed toward the door, the old man behind the counter noticed. “Hey! You didn’t pay!” he shouted angrily.
“Run!” Eliza shouted, dashing out the door. The group bolted, and I had no choice but to follow. Outside, I noticed police lights flashing nearby. As Eliza ran past me, she shoved me, and I felt something slip from my pocket.
“Mom!” I called, desperate, hoping she’d turn back.
But Eliza didn’t stop. “I told you — I don’t have any kids!” she shouted over her shoulder, disappearing into the night.
A police car pulled up beside me. I stopped, knowing I couldn’t outrun them. The window rolled down, and one of the officers leaned out, squinting at me.
“Hey, isn’t this the kid they mentioned?” the officer asked his partner.
The other officer looked me over and nodded. “Yep, that’s him. Alright, kid, get in the car.”
My heart pounded. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, my voice trembling. “I tried to pay, but she took my money. I can call my parents — they’ll come get me.”
I reached into my pocket, only to find it empty. Panic rose as I realized my phone was gone, too. Tears filled my eyes. “Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t do anything.”
One of the officers got out, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, son.” Gently, he guided me into the backseat as my tears fell silently.
At the police station, I expected the worst, but instead, they led me to a small room with a warm cup of tea. My heart skipped when I glanced up and saw Paul and Joseline talking with an officer nearby. Mila was in Paul’s arms, and Joseline looked worried, her eyes darting around the room.
The moment Joseline spotted me, she gasped, rushing over and wrapping her arms tightly around me. “Eric! You scared us so much!” she said, her voice shaking. “We thought something terrible had happened when we saw you were gone. We called the police right away.”
Paul approached, holding Mila close. “Eric, why did you run off like that?” he asked.
I swallowed, looking down. “I just… I wanted real parents. I thought finding my mom would change things, but she… she wasn’t what I thought,” I admitted.
Joseline’s face softened as she squeezed my hand. “Eric, it hurts to hear that,” she said gently. “We consider ourselves your parents, even if we’re just your foster parents for now.”
Paul nodded. “We’re sorry if we didn’t make that clear.”
I looked at them. “I thought… maybe you’d want to get rid of me now that you have Mila, your real daughter,” I confessed.
Joseline pulled me into another hug, her arms warm and steady. “Parents don’t give up on their children, Eric, foster or not.”
“You’re as much our child as Mila is,” Paul added. “That’s never going to change.”
My tears fell, my heart finally feeling the love they’d always given. “This whole trip was actually for you,” Paul explained. “You wanted to go camping, so we made it a special occasion.”
“A special occasion?” I asked, wiping my eyes.
“To tell you that we want you to officially be our son,” Paul said with a smile.
“All the paperwork is ready, but only if you want it,” Joseline added, her voice soft. I didn’t need to answer in words; I hugged them both, realizing I had found my real family. They had chosen me, and that was all that mattered.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Source: thecelebritist.com