And other not-so-random ways to die . . .

When you’ve had a girlfriend and an ex-girlfriend die a span of 5 years, you get a little paranoid. It’s not a matter of if it happens again but when. We all die eventually. So even though it may not happen now or 10 to 20 years from now, it will happen. But who will be first? Will it be me or my partner?


Jacks might inherit her mother’s breast cancer. The next cigarette could lead to an early
heart attack? Or a random chunk of blue ice could fall from a passenger plane, killing her instantaneously. Maybe she’ll be electrocuted during a house repair project or choke to death at the dinner table. The cat could trip her on the stairs.


This past weekend I was out of town for my 3 day work week. I felt that impending
doom, worried that she might already be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. All because it was 10pm and I had not heard from her since 11am. I couldn’t remember if she was headed Up North for a visit or if she was supposed to be working.


I left her a voice mail. Texted her. Nothing. I tried to calm myself. Maybe she didn’t have very good cell phone service Up North. Maybe she was busy at work and couldn’t call me back. Maybe she went out for a pack of cigarettes and was never coming back. Earlier that day I had noticed that she had disappeared off my Facebook page. I was no longer in a relationship with Jacks, according to Facebook. If she was really dead, there was nothing I could do about it anyway. I told myself to just go to sleep. I took a Benadryl and proceeded to toss and turn. I texted her brother. He hadn’t heard from her either. .


My phone vibrated at 10:30 with a message from Jacks. Her phone was almost dead and she didn’t have her charger. She would be home soon, and she loved me. I was relieved but still wide awake. I wouldn’t be satisfied until I heard her voice from the safety of our home.


15 minutes later, she called me but not from home. She was at exit 90. She needed the number for a tow truck. She had been driving 70mph down the freeway when her tire flew off and her truck hit the cement, sparks flying. The truck stopped inches from the guard rail.


The guys at Tuffy said the lug nuts were sheered off perfectly like someone had cut them off. Rather suspicious. A couple days earlier we had noticed that the top right hand corner of her license plate had been cut out. Some fucker must have used a tin snips to steal her tag. She only makes $9.00/hr. Seriously, if you can’t afford your own tag, ride the bus! She drives a rusty 1991 Chevy S-10. Why couldn’t they have gone to the rich neighborhood? Why not a BMW or a Lexus?


Tuffy said the truck should have flipped over and veered into on-coming traffic. Those feelings of impending doom were not unwarranted. Jacks said she had similar feelings.
The tag and the tire are both replaceable—Jacks, not so much.