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My roommate asked me to change my wedding date

2022.01.27 02:54 substantial_eternal My roommate asked me to change my wedding date

Mike and I got engaged last year, chose a date, and proceeded to plan the wedding. Within a few weeks we had booked the venue and other major vendors and started making payments. Everything was going smoothly until a couple of months before the wedding when Mike and I started sending out the invitations. This is where things began to get very strange because my Maid of Honor "Tami" who was also my roommate suddenly wanted me to change my wedding date.

And her story kept changing.

First she told me her brother was getting married on the same weekend as my wedding. But I checked her brother's social media and he definitely was not.

And then she said she needed more time to plan me the bachelorette and bridal shower I deserved. I told her I didn't want any of that, nor did I expect it. All she had to do as far as the wedding was concerned was show up, stand next to me while I said my vows, and eat some really delicious BBQ and fried oysters.

Mike and I had been saving for this wedding for years, since before we were even officially engaged. Both of us took on overtime and weekend delivery gigs on top of our regular full time jobs. I wasn't about to let all that hard work and thousands of dollars go down the drain because of a whim.

Finally I told Tami over text that while I would love for her to come, I can't afford to lose the money Mike and I had already put down in payments. I assured her there would be no bad feelings from my end if she chose her brother's wedding over mine. Plus some our of out of town guests had already booked flights, so yet another reason I couldn't postpone.

Tami left me on read and I didn't hear from her by text or phone, somewhat to my relief. I had plenty of other things on my plate without trying to figure her out. Mike and I were worried about a mole on his neck because his family has a history of skin cancer, and so we were trying to get him scheduled for a skin biopsy. Also, the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if my friendship with Tami had outrun its course.

While I was still paying rent and utilities on the house we shared, I had basically been living at Mike's apartment for the last few months. Mike and I were going to move to a bigger apartment after the wedding, and I decided to hold off on changing my address with the post office until then. So I still went to the house once a week to pick up my mail.

And whenever I dropped by, Tami was either hungover from the night before, or playing video games in her underwear. The kitchen and bathroom were biohazard horror shows of mildew, rotten food and what appeared to be vomit. I was alarmed at first, but then realized it had always been this way. It hadn't been obvious when we saw each other everyday, but a few months of separation made it glaringly clear I had changed. The fact was Tami and I had grown apart.

In any case, our lease on the house would be terminated in two months. A big property development company had bought up the whole street and was going to demolish the neighborhood to put up fancy condos. The landlords all got big six or even seven digit payouts, and the renters all had to be out in two months. There were a few attempts to organize a protest among the neighbors, but as far as I knew, that went nowhere. Tami's plan was to move in with her mom, though she was delaying the move to the last possible moment because they didn't get along.

Between my job and tying up last minute details with the wedding, a month went by before I had time to drop by the house to pick up my mail. I texted Tami beforehand to let her know so she won't be passed out with the deadbolt on (she had done this before).

I fully expected her to ignore me, but to my surprise, she texted back immediately that she'll be home and that she had something important she wanted to talk to me about. It sounded ominous, but upon second thought I figured she probably wanted me to help her get her own place (Tami dreaded moving back with her mom). Or she changed her mind about coming to my wedding, which I was starting to take for granted that she was going to skip.

What did happen though was something out of my wildest dreams.

Or, at it turned out, my worst nightmare.


"Promise you won't get mad at me," was the first thing she said to me when I walked in the door.

She handed me my mail, nothing but some bills and ads.

"I'm going to send you a video," she said, fiddling on her phone.

Oooookay, I thought. What now?

I checked my messages and saw that she had sent me a video.

It was a video of her and Mike having sex.

I asked her if they were still together.

"Of course not," she said. "We were never together. It was a one time thing. I was stoned and he kept bothering me. I should've known better. I tried and tried to get you to postpone the wedding and this was why. I didn't know how to tell you, so I waited and waited. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry...."

She kept apologizing but I wasn't listening at all. The only thing that mattered was Mike had cheated on me. He had lied to me the entire time.
I didn't go back to his apartment that night.

The next day, I texted everyone the wedding was off.


Mike called, texted and emailed, but I would not talk to him. There was nothing he could say that would make any difference. Everyday I went to work and came back to the house. Tami comforted me with pizza, beer and cigarettes. We played video games all night long just like we used to do before I met Mike.

I had forgotten what it was like to go to bed at 4am and wake up with a hangover and be late for work. But this was how I used to live and Mike had changed all that. He was what other people called a "good influence" on me. He showed me I could have fun without getting drunk. From him, I learned to love nature instead of being afraid of it. The first time I saw the sunrise in the woods was also the first time I didn't think about having a cigarette. He opened my eyes to the beauty of the world.

Well, our whole relationship was based on a lie. I was back to being a degenerate now, was I? And Tami was a bad influence on me, was she? Well, so be it then. Alcohol and junk food numbed my pain.

The phone beeped constantly with Mike's messages which I deleted without reading. And then he started hanging out in front of the house. I would stand at the window with a beer and watch him sitting in the car. He looked sad and yet somehow determined. Tami called the police and filed a restraining order against him which I signed without reading.

She told me Mike was stalking the house and I believed her. There were strange noises in the night. My nerves were shot. I woke up one night thinking I heard somebody come into the room. I screamed and screamed, hoping I was loud enough for the people next door to hear. But it turned out to be just Tami who had come in to look for a shirt she thought she had left there.

In all that time, Tami took care of me as if I were sick, which I suppose I was. She made the meals (or rather, she brought home the pizza), went through the mail, paid the bills. I couldn't be bothered with the ordinary and necessary functions of life. I barely made it in to work every morning, and the only reason I didn't get fired was because my boss was a genuinely kind person. I had invited her to the wedding and she knew something really bad must have happened when I cancelled on such short notice.


The day of my wedding, or rather, the day that should have been my wedding day, came and went. I asked for the week off from work and my boss gave it to me without question. I was obviously falling apart.

On the last day of my week off, I woke up in the house alone. For almost the first time since I had come back, Tami wasn't there. She texted me that she had to go to her Mom's, and that she wouldn't be home that night. So I was alone and not drinking as much as I usually did when Tami was around, but also eating a lot more. As I lay there feeling gross and sorry for myself after gorging on cold greasy pizza, samosas and eggrolls, I decided to re-watch the video of Mike having sex with Tami.

Odd as this may seem, I had never watched the video in its entirety. That first and only time I had seen it, I had watched no more than a few seconds. It had hurt too much. But for some reason, I wanted it to hurt as much as possible now. I had reached the acceptance part of the grieving process and was ready to twist the knife a bit. I watched the video over and over again, and each time I noticed some little detail I had missed before. Something bothered me, but I couldn't put a finger on what it was.

Later that night, I realized something that made my blood run cold.

Tami said she had asked me to change the wedding date *because* Mike had cheated on me with her. But in the video, there was a bandage on the back of Mike's neck. It was from the skin biopsy he had done for the mole, which to both our relief turned out to be benign. But the biopsy was done *after* Tami had started hassling me about changing the wedding date. In light of this inconsistency, other things now stood out to me, like how out of it Mike looked. He seemed almost somnambulant whereas Tami didn't look at all stoned like she claimed.

"Something wrong?" Tami said.

She was standing in front of me with her hands behind her back. I hadn't heard her come in at all. Wasn't she suppose to be at her mother's?

As if she had read my mind, she said, "People are so easy to fool you know. They can be so stupid."

The smirk slid off her face, and her expression became stone cold. She took her hands out from behind her and showed me a gun. She lifted the gun and pointing it at me, pulled the trigger. It was as if a train had slammed into me. I fell on the floor, and as I lay there waiting to die, I saw Mike come in the room. I saw her turn to him, and before I blacked out, I saw him take her into his arms.


When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The bullet didn't kill me, but let's just say I wasn't going to run any marathons any time soon, or even walk one.

"Did you ever make a will?" the detective asked me.

I stared at him. The thing was, I *had* made a will. And I had completely forgotten about it until now. This was years ago in the early heady days of Tami moving in with me. We were both drunk one night, and to tell the truth, I may have been slightly in love with her.

It was a schoolgirl crush that burned itself out fast enough and later on I would joke about it. But at the time I was infatuated and it had seemed like the funniest thing in the world to make a will that left to Tami all my earthly possessions, which was, at the time, twenty dollars or something. I did it online using some website. I wasn't even sure if it was legal and binding.
"Yes," I said. "So?"

"Who did you name as primary beneficiary?"

"Tami," I said.

"So," he said, "Tami would inherit all you had in the case that you died?"

I rolled my eyes. "C'mon, you really think she tried to kill me because of that stupid will? Do I look rich to you?"

It was a rhetorical question but now it was the detective's turn to look amused, or as amused as he could under the circumstances.

"It depends on what you consider rich."

"If she wanted to kill me for money," I said, "she should have done it before I blew it all on my wedding."

The detective gave me a strange look. "Have you looked at your bank statements lately?"

"No," I sighed. "And if I may be honest detective, there isn't much to look at."

He gave me a piece of paper, a printout of what appeared to be my bank statement. "Sir," I said, trying not to laugh, "there's some kind of a mistake."

To be precise, there was thirty thousand dollars more in the account than there should have been.

The detective shrugged. "It's yours, we printed it out yesterday. Does the name [redacted] Group ring a bell?"

I shook my head, "Nope."

"It's a property development company," he said. "They bought the house you were living in on [redacted] street and others like it."



As it turned out, the protests the neighborhood residents tried to organize against the property developers were not completely useless. To avoid a media stink, the developers agreed to a payout for the long term renters, and sent out a letter notifying the residents to that effect. I didn't know about any of that because I was living at Mike's place during those few months. Tami got my letter because all my mail still went to the house. She filled out the documents to get the payment by faking my signature.

Tami's plan was to kill me after the payout had been made to my bank account, and then claim the money for herself using the will I had made that left everything to her. When she found out the payment would be made after my wedding, she panicked because my will leaving everything to her would have been automatically voided once I got married. And so this was why she tried so hard to get me to change the date. When that didn't work, she had the idea of recording herself and Mike having sex to get me to cancel the wedding, which was exactly what happened.

About that video, Mike assured me it was a one time thing that had never happened before. He took full responsibility for what happened. While I appreciated his honesty, I still wasn't sure how I felt about it. Mike said he understood and wouldn't pressure me one way or another.

I couldn't help wondering if he had cheated on me with other women besides Tami. I wanted to forgive him, but I didn't know if I could ever trust him again. The uncertainty and suspicion that would hang over our relationship would poison everything we did. Was it fair to him to put him through that? Or would it be better for both of us for him to get a fresh start with somebody else?

Anyway, on the day Tami decided to kill me, she texted Mike from my phone and pretended to be me asking him to come over. Her plan, the detective surmised, was to make it look like a murder-suicide. When Mike came in, she shot him but the bullet was deflected by his phone. Mike got her in a bear hug and took the gun away from her and tied her up. And then he called the ambulance for me, and so saved my life.


I married my best friend in an intimate and lovely ceremony in the hospital room. Only our parents could attend because of the restrictions on the number of visitors. The nurses volunteered as my bridesmaids, my mother was my Maid of Honor, and Mike's dad his Best Man. Mike's uncle, a pastor, was our officiant.

There was nothing I could do about a dress as I was still bedridden, and frankly I didn't care about all that anymore. On the day of, the head nurse for the wing brought the most beautiful flower arrangements as her wedding gift to me. Her mother was a florist! It wasn't the wedding I had envisioned when Mike went down on one knee and proposed to me: it was so much better. It was truly the wedding of my dreams.
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I'm looking for my great-grandfather in the US census records. I traced him to the 1930 & 1940 censuses based on the following known information (from my dad):

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I cannot seem to find this man on the US 1910 or 1920 censuses, nor the 1915 NJ census. I have a few possibilities, but I don't know how/if I can confirm any of them: - I found a James Carroll who is a boarder in the 1920 census. This James is a laborer on the railroad, which could line up with the railroad fireman from 1930. His age is listed as 28, though. This was given by the head of household, so it might be possible they just estimated his age? It would be ~5 years difference though. - I found a James Carroll in the 1910 census who is 12 (so the years line up), but I don't know how I can confirm or deny that this is my James Carroll, if possible. - I have found several James Carrolls where the ages line up in the 1915 NJ census. A lot of them seem to be "clerks" -- was this just a common occupation for teenage men? I have no current way of knowing which one might be my James.
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