On the Day My Mother Dies

The day my mom died, my boyfriend, Chad, got kidnapped for the twenty–sixth time. To save him, I dove into a freaking ice–water tank even though I can’t swim. It was some sick game for those guys.

Five minutes later, they yanked me out, and I passed out, blood pooling under me.

Chad showed up, holding his phone, and said, like it was a joke:

“Shelly, what’d I tell ya? That moron would totally save me to get her mom’s hospital bills paid. Drowning’s awesome on camera, right? Knocked her right out, even got her period going.”

“You promised you’d marry me if I helped you get enough ‘ways to die‘ for your movie, so you can’t back out now.”

“I’ve got one more surprise for you at the wedding, baby.”

He had no idea that wasn’t my period. It was our three–month–old kid. Later, his buddy, Kyle, looked uneasy.

“Chad, I get helping Shelly, but there’s tons of stuff online. Why put Amy through this?”

“Twenty–six times? You fake a kidnapping, she risks her life… she’s been with you for two years. That’s cold, man.”

Chad waved it off, told the cleaning guy to mop up the blood, and grinned.

“Movie stuff is so fake. No good reference material. Shelly wants to be a hotshot director, and I’m busting my butt to help her.”

“And why Amy? Shelly’d get jealous. I promised Shelly I’d help her find 27 ways to die, that’s our thing, gotta do it for her. It’s our 27th anniversary.”