I make an excuse to get away from Arnold and run across the parking lot. He sees me. At first he raises his arm to wave but he lowers it after getting a better look at my face. I'm not happy.

"Did it all come true?" The time traveler asks.

"If you're really from the future then you already know." I reply.

"Good so you believe I'm from the future."

"I don't know..."

"Hey now, we shook on it. And I know for a fact that you always keep your promises."

"Fine I believe you OLD Charles."

"Ouch." He says as he winces at the word old.

"Now that I believe you, I have questions. What exactly is it about our marriage that doesn't work?" I tilt my head curiously.

"We aren't happy. Actually we're miserable. This wasn't the right choice for us. Being married to you has taught me that marriage isn't for everyone." This leaves me offended a little. DNA picked our pairing so to say we weren't made for marriage means there's something wrong with our genes. I have enough insecurities without worrying about my DNA being broken.

"That's still super vague. I need more details if we are going to change anything." I say.

"There is really only one thing you need to know. If our relationship continues the way it's going now, one of us is going to die." He looks at me with such a serious expression that I can't help but believe him.

"Ok. So what can we do? How do we change it?"

"Before I travelled back here I came up with a plan. We have to get married, of course. It's the law. But no one ever said that married people have to be together. So, after the ceremony, you need to get the he'll out of town..."

"That's your plan!?" I interrupt him. "You don't want to try and fix the marriage? You want me to run from my problems?"

"You forget that I've lived this once already. We tried everything but it didn't work. Avoidance is the only option. You know I'm right. You've already encountered the emotional stress that comes from being around the young me. Feeling that way isn't normal and it won't get better." His words make me angry. They make me want to prove him wrong.

"I'll show you Old man! Anything that hasn't happened yet can be changed. All I have to do is act differently from normal and stuff will change. I'm going to start changing the future right now!" I walk away from Old Charles Milburn III and head back into the gym.

"Hey Arnold!" I yell as I burst through the doors. The gym rats look at me like I'm insane for screaming inside. Arnold's head peeks out of the break room curiously. When he sees it was me calling for him, he waves me over.

"What's going on?" Arnold asks.

"That thing you were talking about earlier, we're doing it as soon as possible. You call your lawyer and I'll call mine." I say.

"Hey now, hey now." Mr. Cromwell, the boss, comes over with a candy bar in his hand. The break room has the only vending machine with unhealthy snacks so sugar crazy Cromwell practically lives in here. "Coworkers should not sue each other. I'm sure whatever the problem is, it can be solved in house. It definitely doesn't need to go past HR. In fact I can solve it right now. Arnie apologize to the lady."

"I'm sorry?" Arnold says. He doesn't argue with Cromwell. There wouldn't be a point to it anyway. Cromwell is as oblivious and stubborn as they come. His ideas became facts in his head as soon as he thought them. This bullheaded personality trait served him well in business but often left much to be desired for people who interact with him on a regular basis. This is proven by the fact that he insists on calling Arnold Arnie even though Arnold has mentioned many times that he hates nicknames.

For this reason, instead of explaining the situation to him, we go along with his assumption. I accept Arnold's apology even though I think it's absurd that Cromwell believes that a situation I was ready to call a lawyer over can be solved by a simple apology. Satisfied that he has smoothly avoided a lawsuit between two employees, Cromwell leaves us.

Both my fiance and Arnold's prove that their schedules are not to be reckoned with. We can't find a time that all four of us are free for three more weeks. A combination of fear of being face to face with Charles and the joy I get from reading his texts causes the two of us to not meet up in the meantime.

The date for our fittings comes up before I know it. Of the three wedding dress shops suggested to me by the marriage commission, the one I choose happens to be on the other side of town fro the tux shop where Charles is doing his fitting. What a coincidence. My mom comes with me to pick a dress. She lives for this type of mother daughter experience. I don't dislike it but my level of enthusiasm in this moment could never rival my mother's.

I try on a thousand wedding dresses from strapless to off the shoulder, empire waist to fishtail. One of the dresses is made completely of see through lace. The only thing covering me is some strategically placed tape. My mom vetoes it immediately. Another dress is nothing but poof. The sleeves are puffy at the shoulders, the boobs are padded, and the skirt has more layers of crinoline than I can count. I veto that one before I pass out from heat stroke. I send Charles pictures of a few of the dresses.

You look perfect in all of them! He texts back. He also sends me a pic of his tux. It's stark black with a crisp white shirt and a red rose pinned to his lapel.

Jokes on you! None of these are the dress I chose.😝 I teasingly text him once I get home.

What did you choose?

You'll have to wait until the wedding day to find out.

Superstitious are we?

I'm not risking anything that may endanger our future happiness. I think about Old Charles as I type this.

That's sweet. Charles replies. He doesn't know how messed up it actually is.

We have the meeting of the parents next week right? He sends another message.

Yes at The Noodle House. 

Ok I will see you there. As I read this message I gather up the nerve to ask him something.

You haven't had anyone approach you have you? 

Approach me? No. Who would? Like an auditor?  This message takes so long to come that I almost go insane as I wait. Normally his texts come slow and I can handle the wait but it's excruciating when I'm waiting on the answer to a question.

No! Not an auditor. Why would we be audited? I meant anyone unusual. Maybe someone watching you from afar.

If we used our wedding funds inappropriately we could get audited. And no I don't have a stalker.

Then let's not use the wedding funds inappropriately. I don't bring up the time traveller again. Charles doesn't seem to understand what I'm talking about. If he doesn't get the gist then he probably hasn't met anyone from the future.

Two days later I'm standing in front of my floor length mirror trying to find a dress that is both casual and professional. I want Charles's parents to like me. The dress I wear needs to ooze responsibility so that they know they can trust me with their son. But I don't want them to think I'm stiff so the dress has to show my sense of humor as well. It's a lot to ask of one dress. I know this. That knowledge won't stop me from trying on everything in my closet, however.

"Fiona are you ready?" My mom calls from downstairs. I'm currently wearing a dress that says calm and confident. It's as good as I'm going to get.

"You look nice." My dad says in a tone of voice that suggests he's surprised by that fact. I mumble a thanks as I walk out the front door.

The Noodle House is in the more rural side of town. Instead of the train, it makes more sense for us to drive there. As my dad parks the car, I notice a familiar figure lurking in the shadows around the front door of The Noodle House. Halfway between the parking lot and the restaurant I pretend that I left my bag in the car so that my parents have to go in without me. Once they're gone I slide into the shadows and tap Old Charles on the shoulder. He looks at me with his bright, brown eyes and stifles a smile.

"Tell me the truth. Is tonight going to be a disaster?" I ask. His eyes roll up and to the left as if he's thinking hard about this. I guess he's just remembering back to this night.

"It won't be easy. But no blood needs to be shed." He says.

"So I won't have the uncontrollable to hurt him?"

"I wasn't in your head when I was your age and I'm not in your head now. So I have no idea. But if I can give you one tip it's that you need to control your face." He pinches my cheek and I slap his hand away.

After walking away from Old Charles in an aggravated huff, I enter the noodle house. A waiter shows me to a private room where the rest of my party is seated. Entering the room I realize why the old man told me to control my face. I'm black. My parents are black. Charles is black. His parents are not. I sit next to my parents and try not to stare too much across the table.

"Hi I'm Fiona Simple and these are my parents Fenton and Donna." I put a hand under the face of each parent as I say their name.

"I'm Charles Milburn the third. This is Charles Milburn the second and Wilhelmina Milburn. I'm adopted." Charles says. My parents and I try to look surprised at this revelation. I can tell I'm not doing a good job. Just because Old Charles told me to control my face doesn't mean I suddenly have the ability to do it.

Charles's father, uh Charles, lets out a hardy laugh. He has the best laugh I've ever heard. It's infectious and his whole face lights up. Watching him laugh is so engrossing that I'm initially able to ignore the feeling of my cheeks heating up. It feels like a blush at first so why would I notice it. The heat continues to expand. Once it has enveloped my whole face, I notice it. The feeling is that of a fever. I can tell my head is hot but the rest of me feels oddly cold.

"Are you ok?" Charles the third, my Charles, asks me. I give him a sharp, side-eyed glance and he recoils a little in fear. Then I remember Old Charles's words: It won't be easy but no blood needs to be shed.

I swallow hard and look down at the table. If I can calm down everything will be alright. One, two, three deep breaths and I look up again. Charles is still looking at me and I give him a smile. He smiles back brightly.

"So who wants to hear a joke?" My dad asks. This isn't good. His jokes are criminally bad.

"Don't start that Fenton. Fiona and Charles may be required by law to get married but his family isn't required to like us." My mom says with a strained smile on her face.

"I've got a good one. This joke kills around the water cooler," My dad continues as if my mom hasn't said anything. "A cat, a cannibal,  and a cactus walk into a bar..."

Just then, the door to our private room slams open. A guy in paint-stained overalls with messy blond hair enters the room like he owns the place.

"Sorry I'm late." He says.