Teenage Boy On Trip With His Foster Family Runs Away To Find His Real Family

The old man behind the counter narrowed his eyes at Eric. “We don’t serve kids here.”

“I don’t want anything to eat. I just have a question.” He pulled the photo from his 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,” Eric 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.”

Eric’s heart pounded as he approached the table. He recognized the woman from the photo—older now, worn down, but definitely her. He cleared his throat. “Eliza, hi,” he said.

She didn’t respond, absorbed in her loud conversation.

Eric tried again, louder this time. “Eliza.”

She turned, finally noticing him. “What do you want, kid?”

“I…I’m your son,” Eric said quietly.

“I don’t have any kids.”

Desperate, he held up the photo again. “It’s me. See? Eliza and Eric,” he said.

“Thought I got rid of you,” she muttered, taking a long drink from a bottle.

Eric’s voice trembled. “I just wanted to meet you.”

Eliza looked him over with a smirk. “Fine. Sit down, then. Maybe you’ll be useful.” Her friends chuckled, and Eric 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. Eric, feeling uneasy, looked at Eliza. “But you haven’t paid,” he said.