My Mom's Ten‑Year Test Killed My Dad
On the day the SAT scores are released, the reporters track me down, the top scorer of the entire nation, in order to get an interview with me. That's when they find me fishing for a corpse by the river.
When the reporters ask me who I'm thankful to the most, my mom, who's allegedly been dead for ten years, makes an appearance.
She gets out of the Maybach, looking very high and mighty.
"Your dad didn't remarry for ten years, and you've become the top scorer of the nation. As expected, both of you have passed my test."
I can only grip my pole while staring at her in confusion.
It turns out that ten years ago, Mom's adopted younger brother, Donald Ferguson, suggested to her, "Why don't you fake your death and test your husband's mettle? You should pretend to go bankrupt and jump off a building. If he can stay single for your sake for the next ten years, that should prove that he didn't marry you just for your money."
Mom had laughed back then. "When we were still dating, I pretended to be poor for three years. Walter could take five jobs just to put food on the table for me. It's so evident that he loves me to the moon and back. Ten years isn't a problem; heck, he'll definitely remain unmarried for 20 years, or even for the rest of his life!"
The fact that I, the top scorer of the nation, am actually the wealthiest woman, Eloise Ferguson's son, gives a huge boost to the shares of her company. The entire nation looks forward to seeing Mom and me hugging each other while bawling at the top of our lungs.
Mom looks around her surroundings.
"Where's Walter? I'm here to take both of you home with me."
"He's dead."
The pole in my hands slowly cracks into splinters as I look up at Mom and spit out the answer word by word.
"Three years ago, Dad kept working his ass off day and night just to buy the best burial plot for you. That was when he died in this very river."
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