THE NAME ON THE FORM
PART 1 — The Boy Who Didn’t Know Me
It was almost eleven o’clock at night when my phone rang.
I had already been lying in bed for an hour, a book resting on my lap, even though I had been reading the same page for at least twenty minutes without understanding a single word of the story. Outside, the rain tapped against the windows of my apartment in Rotterdam. It was one of those nights when the entire city seemed to disappear behind a gray curtain of water.
When my phone vibrated again, I looked at the unknown number.
I answered.
“Am I speaking with Ms. Van der Meer?”
“Yes.”
“This is the emergency department of St. Antonius Hospital.”
I sat upright.
“Did something happen?”
“It concerns a child.”
I frowned.
“A child?”
“Yes, Ms. Van der Meer. A twelve-year-old boy.”
I let out a small laugh.
Not because it was funny, but because it sounded completely impossible.
“I think you have the wrong number.”
“I don’t think so.”
“But I don’t have any children.”
There was silence on the other end.
Then I heard the nurse slowly take a breath.
“Ms. Van der Meer, your name is listed as the emergency contact.”
My smile disappeared.
“That’s impossible.”
“The boy himself gave us your name.”
“Which boy?”
“Lucas.”
I didn’t know any Lucas.
“His last name?”
The nurse told me a surname that meant nothing to me.
I stared at my empty bedroom.
“Listen, I’m thirty-two years old. I live alone. I don’t have children. I’ve never been married.”
“I understand.”
“Then there must be some kind of mistake.”
“Maybe.”
Her voice became softer.
“But the boy is seriously injured.”
I was silent.
“He lost a lot of blood. His condition is stable now, but he keeps asking for his mother.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“His mother?”
“Yes.”
“And he gave them my name?”
“Your full name.”
I looked at the rain falling behind the window.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that we are asking you to come here.”
“Why?”
“It would be better if we explained everything in person.”
I wanted to say I wasn’t coming.
That they should call the police.
That they should find his family.
That they had the wrong person.
But something in the nurse’s voice stopped me.
No panic.
No confusion.
Only a strange certainty.
I stood up.
I put on my jacket, grabbed my keys, and went outside.
To this day, I still don’t know why I went.
Maybe it was guilt.
Maybe curiosity.
Or maybe a part of me already knew that my entire life was about to change forever.
The rain was cold.
My car was parked three streets away.
During the drive to the hospital, I tried to convince myself that it meant nothing.
A paperwork error.
An old database mistake.
Someone with the same name.
That was all it could be.
Twenty minutes later, I stood in a long, white hospital hallway.
The smell of disinfectant made me feel sick.
A nurse walked toward me.
“Ms. Van der Meer?”
“Yes.”
She held a form in her hand.
“Thank you for coming.”
“What happened?”
She looked at the paper.
Then at me.
“Does this name mean anything to you?”
She turned the form toward me.
I looked down.
My breath stopped.
Under the word MOTHER was my full name.
Eva Van der Meer.
My hands started shaking.
“This… this can’t be possible.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not a mother.”
The nurse looked at me.
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to say more.
But then I heard a weak voice coming from a room farther down the hallway.
“Where is Mom?”
I froze.
The nurse placed a hand on my arm.
“He has been asking for you for hours.”
“But I don’t know him.”
“Maybe he knows you.”
“That’s impossible.”
She opened the door.
I stood frozen in the doorway.
A boy was lying on the bed.
Pale.
Thin.
His face was swollen from his injuries.
A bandage covered his head, and an IV was attached to his arm.
He looked far too young for the amount of pain he had endured.
When he saw me, his eyes widened.
He didn’t look surprised.
He looked like he was finally seeing someone he had been waiting for.
“Mom?”
My heart broke, even though I didn’t understand why.
I slowly walked toward him.
“Hello.”
His lips trembled.
“You came.”
I couldn’t answer.
He closed his eyes.
“Dad said you would come.”
I looked at the nurse.
“Who is his father?”
But she didn’t answer.
The boy reached out with his weak hand and held my fingers.
And at that exact moment, I noticed something around his wrist.
An old leather bracelet.
On the inside, one word was engraved.
Mom.
