Why Every Man Wants to Marry My Mentally Ill Mom

My mom is mentally ill. She carried the weight of twentyseven lives.

She killed my dad with a kitchen knife, hacking him to death because he used too much chili in his cooking.

On New Year’s Eve, she was released from the psychiatric hospital. When the news spread, every man in our small town suddenly had a reason to visit our house, eager to marry her.

——

That morning, I was hanging up decorations for the New Year when Thomas Lawrence, our nextdoor neighbor, showed up at the door. He had a box of gifts in his arms and an overly cheerful smile.

“Hey, Roxanne, is your mom getting out of the hospital today?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes eager.

I nodded, adjusting one of the decorations. “Yeah, they let her out so we could have a nice start to the New Year.”

Thomas’s grin grew wider. “That’s great! I thought I’d stop by and drop off some gifts for you both. Happy New Year!”

He set the gifts on the table and then hesitated for a moment, rubbing his hands nervously.

Finally, he added, “You know, Roxanne, I’ve always had a thing for your mom. I was wondering if maybe when she gets back, you could put in a good word for me?”

I stopped what I was doing and stared at him.

My mom is mentally ill. She had killed twentyseven people. Every single one of them was her lawful husband.

Aside from my dad, none of her other husbands made it past seven days.

One snored too loudly.

One chewed with his mouth open.

Another forgot to brush his teeth before bed.

Little things like that were all it took for her to snap.

Because of her mental illness, she was never sentenced for her crimes. Instead, they sent her to a psychiatric hospital.

But for reasons I could never figure out, she always got released after just a few days.

Looking at Thomas’s earnest, almost naïve expression, I couldn’t help but warn him, “Thomas, my mom’s unpredictable. She has a bad temper, and she could seriously hurt someone without warning. Aren’t you afraid?”

Thomas frowned, looking offended. “How can you say that about Sharon? Those men didn’t treat her right—they deserved what they got.”

He puffed out his chest, looking almost proud of his declaration. “All I’ve ever wanted is to marry her. I know I can take care of your mom and make her happy.”

Before I could respond, he added, “Roxanne, just think about it, okay? I’m counting on you!” Then, with a hopeful smile, he turned and left.

After that, it was like the floodgates opened.

One by one, men from the town started showing up at my house, each carrying gifts.

They all had the same desperate request.

“Roxanne, I’ve always been there for you and your mom. Can’t you put in a good word for me?”

“Roxanne, if I can marry your mom, I’ll pay for your college tuition. On top of that, I’ll give you a monthly allowance—how does $1,000 sound?”

“Roxanne, here’s my bank account info and savings. If Sharon marries me, it’s all hers. I’ll even sign over my paycheck to you and her every month.”

I looked around at their lovestruck faces and the pile of gifts growing on our table, completely stunned.

My mom, in terms of appearance, was average at best. Her personality, however, was infamous. She was hottempered, violent, and prone to snapping over the smallest inconveniences.

Even I, her own daughter, was terrified of her.

I couldn’t, for my life, understand what made these men so obsessed with her.

An hour later, my mom finally came home from the hospital. She stepped inside, her expression as indifferent as ever, completely ignoring the awkward crowd of men loitering nearby.

Pointing at the mountain of gifts piled on the floor, I said honestly, “Mom, these are from the men in town. They all say they like you and want to marry you.”

My mom didn’t even glance at the gifts.

With a shrug, she replied flatly, “Oh.”

For me, the situation was overwhelming. It was an avalanche of incomprehensible facts I could barely process. For my mom, however, it seemed like just another ordinary day.

We hadn’t exchanged more than a few words before the town matchmaker, Mrs. Jenkins, came bustling through the door, practically radiating excitement. She was beaming, holding a stack of matchmaking proposals in her hands like they were the winning lottery tickets.

“Sharon, I heard you’ve been discharged, so I came here to talk about potential matches for you!” she said brightly. “This time, there are so many suitors that they’ve practically worn down my doorstep!”

Mrs. Jenkins plopped the thick stack of proposals onto the table and slid them toward my mom. “Take a look! Is there anyone who catches your eye?”

My mom glanced at the pile but then turned her gaze toward me, completely unfazed. “Roxanne, why don’t you take a look and see if there’s anyone you think would be a good match?”

Her calmness sent a shiver down my spine. The thought of anyone marrying her, knowing they likely wouldn’t survive the week, made my stomach turn.

After a long pause, I finally spoke up. “Mom, I think you’re better off staying single.”

Hearing this, Mrs. Jenkins gasped dramatically and patted my shoulder. “Roxanne, what on earth are you saying? Every woman deserves to find a good man. Do you really want your mom to spend the rest of her life alone?”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I stared intently at my mom, waiting for her answer.

She glanced at me briefly, her expression unreadable, before casually reaching out and picking a proposal at random. She didn’t even bother to look at the name.

“Let’s go with this one,” she said nonchalantly.

Curious, I leaned over to see the name. When I did, my breath caught in my throat. My eyes widened in disbelief.

How could it be him?

For as long as I could remember, my dad had been gone, and my mom’s life had been an endless cycle of marriages, murders, and stints in the psychiatric hospital. Whenever she was confined, I was left to fend for myself.

I thought back to the time when I was nine years old. I’d been washing clothes alone by the river when I slipped and fell into the water. I didn’t know how to swim, and I was sure I was going to drown.

But just as the world started to fade, a young man jumped in and pulled me to safety.

His name was Marshall Dixon.

Marshall was a few years older than me. After that day, he became something of a guardian for me. He’d bring me food when I was alone, help me with chores, and even defend me at school when classmates teased me about my mom.

He was my savior.

And my secret crush.

But because of my family situation, I never dared to confess how I felt.

Now, seeing his name on the proposal my mom had chosen, I felt the air leave my lungs.

Mrs. Jenkins chuckled, oblivious to my shock. “Sharon, you’ve got great taste! Marshall’s the most promising and handsome young man in town. He’ll take good care of you, no doubt about it!”

With that, she left, eager to deliver the “good news.”

I didn’t even wait for the door to close before I bolted out of the house, running straight to Marshall’s place.

When I got there, he was already standing in the doorway. His usually calm and composed face was tight with anxiety. Clearly, he’d been waiting for word from Mrs. Jenkins.

I didn’t bother with pleasantries. I marched straight up to him and said, “Marshall, you’re young and accomplished. You could have any woman you want—why on earth would you want to marry my mom?”

He looked stunned for a moment but quickly regained his composure. His voice was steady when he replied, “Why do you ask? Do you think your mom isn’t good enough?”

I let out a frustrated laugh. “That’s not the point, and you know it! She’s dangerous, Marshall. She’s got… issues. You’re walking straight into danger!”

Marshall’s expression darkened, and his tone turned icy. “That’s not her fault,” he said firmly. “Those men weren’t strong enough to handle her. They couldn’t take care of her, and they paid the price. They deserved what they got.”

His words sent a chill down my spine. I stared at him, speechless, as a sinking feeling settled in my chest.

Marshall’s eyes held a firm resolve as he continued, “If I’m lucky enough to marry her, I won’t make the same mistakes those other men did. I’ll take care of her and stay by her side until we’re old and gray.”

His handsome face radiated unwavering sincerity.

Looking at his pure, devoted expression, a chilling realization dawned on me. All those times he had looked out for me, stood up for me at school, and defended me from whispers about my mom. It wasn’t about me. It was all because of her.

Knowing there was no changing his mind, I swallowed the ache in my chest and forced a bitter smile. “Well, congratulations, then. Looks like your wish is coming true. My mom picked you.”

Marshall’s face lit up, his joy unmistakable. “Really?” He couldn’t contain himself, asking me to confirm it over and over.

It wasn’t until the matchmaker showed up with the official announcement that he finally let himself believe it.

For the first time, I saw Marshall—usually calm and composed—lose his cool. He looked like he’d just won the lottery, as if marrying my mom was the greatest achievement of his life.

“When do you want to hold the wedding?” the matchmaker asked.

“Today!” he said without hesitation. “It’s New Year’s Day—a perfect time to start fresh and celebrate. Double the joy, right?”

Then he turned to me with earnest eyes and said, “Roxanne, go tell your mom she has nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of everything. She can just relax and enjoy being a bride.”

His enthusiasm was overwhelming as if he were absolutely smitten.

I gave him one long, hard look, said nothing, and turned away.

When I told my mom about Marshall’s plan to get married that same day, she didn’t protest.

As usual, she was calm and indifferent, as if the whole thing didn’t matter to her.

By noon, the wedding was underway. It was hastily put together, but, according to smalltown tradition, everyone in the neighborhood came to celebrate and feast.

The most common thing people said to Marshall that day was, “We’re so jealous of you. You’re one lucky guy!”

Marshall didn’t stop smiling the entire time. To him, marrying my mom seemed to be the happiest moment of his life.

...

After the wedding ended and the guests had cleared out, Marshall approached me. He was solemn now, almost fatherly.

“Roxanne,” he said, “from now on, I’m your stepdad. Don’t worry—I’ll take good care of you and your mom. I promise you won’t ever have to suffer or go through hard times again.”

True to his word, he moved in that very day.

He threw himself into making a grand New Year’s Eve dinner, cooking a feast for my mom and me. Throughout the meal, his joy never wavered. His eyes were locked on my mom the entire time as if no one else existed.

Halfway through dinner, he seemed to grow restless. His eyes sparkled with anticipation as he turned to my mom and said, almost eagerly, “Sharon, it’s getting late. How about we head to the bridal chamber?”

My mom, ever composed, nodded. She set down her chopsticks and, with a rare, faint smile, followed him to their room.

Watching them leave in such a hurry, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of confusion—and curiosity.

Sure, it was their wedding night. But it was also New Year’s Eve, a significant day.

How could someone as composed and levelheaded as Marshall become so captivated by my mom—a woman with a history of mental illness and twentyseven dead husbands?

What was it about her that made him and the other men in town act like they were under some kind of spell?

The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.

Curiosity gnawed at me, refusing to let go. Before I even realized it, I found myself standing outside their window, drawn by the need to know.

Through a small gap in the curtains, I caught a glimpse of something that would haunt me for the rest of my life…