Fifteen years ago, my friends and I visited a winter carnival. It was bright and noisy and packed. It was wonderful and it was huge. There were rides, blinking and tooting as people went round and round or up and down, screaming and laughing. There were food stalls which smelled of salt and oil and sugar. There were heavily tattooed folks lifting things and moving them around or gathered in small groups smoking and chatting. There were families and young lovers and teens running amok. My friends and I spent hours there: four twenty-somethings looking at the kischy things the carnies were hawking, eating until we were almost sick, and riding rides until we actually got sick. It was Heaven.

Late in the evening, as we wandered the grounds, Susan stopped suddenly and held her arms out to the sides, stopping us as well. “Look,” she exclaimed as she pointed between a tent and a dart game, “there's an arrow in the path leading down there!” She turned to look at the other three of us, her black hair fanning out from the speed with which she turned. “Let's follow it! I bet there's something amazing down there!”

“Naw,” said her boyfriend, Dave, reaching out to take her hand in an attempt to pull her away from the alley, “It's probably a staff marking. I doubt it's for the customers. Let's go over to the darts, I'll win you a stuffed animal!”

Susan wasn't having it, though, and she insisted that we follow the arrow. She was one of those people who is a force of nature so it only took a minute for her to convince us that we should check it out. “I mean, maybe it will be nothing. Maybe Dave's right and we just find crew stuff but maaaaaybee,” she leaned forward as her eyes grew wide, “maybe it's something amazing.”

Susan and Dave led us down the close alley between attractions. After only a few steps, the sounds and smells of the carnival dimmed until they were completely gone. Then we heard a soft violin and smelled incense. A few steps later, I looked between Susan and Dave to see a softly lit purple and blue stripped tent with a black awning under which glowed the yellow light of the candle illuminating the door. Susan turned to us and whispered, “See? Something amazing!” She was giddy and, before anyone could respond, Susan was through the door and there was nothing else to do but follow her.

Inside the tent, it was warm and warmly lit by several candles. In the center of the tent was a low table covered in a cloth which matched the tent. Sitting at the table was a gray haired woman with a long braid and a face full of wrinkles. We saw her look up an smile, showing off pearly white teeth and a dimple in her cheek. It was everything you imagine when you think of fortune tellers.

“Good evening, children!” The woman stood when my best friend, Leah, walked into the tent, “I'm glad you chose to follow my sign. I was hoping you would visit me tonight. Now, sit. Sit. I will read your futures. I will tell you three things which will happen before you die and, since you're a young bunch, I will tell you when that will be.”

There were three chairs positioned near the walls of the tent and one across from hers at the table. I'm not a believer in fortune telling or those kinds of supernatural things, but the fact that there were exactly the right amount of chairs for us was a little unsettling.

Dave, Leah, and I sat in the chairs on the perimeter and Susan sat in the one at the table. Of course she would go first; this was all her doing anyway. We watched intently as the fortune teller pulled out a thick deck of cards and asked Susan to cut the deck and then choose a card.

“Oh! You picked the Princess. A very good avatar. I think your future will be bright.” As she read the cards, the fortune teller spoke of a broken heart, a beloved child, and a large sum of money. I listened with a small smirk because the predictions were so generic and positive. This woman put on a good show, but no one knows the future. Then, she told Susan the date of her death: July 19, 2019. Susan nodded and thanked the woman, commenting that she hoped the money came before the baby as she took Dave's seat and he walked to the table to hear his fortune.

The fortune teller looked him over and then held out her bony hand, inviting him to place his hand in hers. She lifted the glasses which had been hanging around her neck and slid them onto her ears as she leaned over his hand and nodded. She told him that his life line was strong but his love line was short. She looked up into his eyes with sympathy as she told him that he would find a fulfilling job working with his hands, would escape death once, and would die with a broken heart. His expiration date was November 03, 2020.

I saw pull a piece of paper out of her purse and write something down as Dave walked back to Leah, switching places with her. She whispered “I wonder what generic thing she'll tell me” and then swaggered to the table where she sat as the fortune teller sat stirring whatever was in the mug beside her. The fortune teller asked Leah to hold the mug between her hands in the center of the table as she looked into it. I assumed, and Leah later confirmed, that it was tea and the fortune teller was reading leaves in the beverage.

“Oh!” A smile slid up the fortune teller's face as she starred into the mug, “No babies for you, which is what you want, eh? You will travel all over the country and you will be happy,” She looked up into Leah's eyes, “I know you won't believe me, but you will be very happy until March 12, 2022.” Leah sucked in a breath and then stood to trade places with me.

I remember thinking that all of this was very well done but that it couldn't be real as I walked to take my seat across from the woman who asked my to put my head down on my arms on the table so that she could touch my head. I complied, thinking this was odd, and then a shiver ran down my spine as I felt her fingers slide into my hair and trace slowly over my scalp.

I heard my friends as they changed position, probably leaning forward to hear what my fortune would be as she began to speak softly.

“You will achieve your dreams. Three babies,” she paused as he fingers continued to move, “a loving husband, and you will be a teacher until,” I held my breath as she concentrated, “until February 01, 2023.” I let out my breath in a gasp because I realized how specific Leah and my fortunes had been. How could this woman have known? Maybe this really was real.

I think she heard that gasp and realized what I had concluded because she leaned close and whispered, “Don't worry too much, dear. He will take good care of those babies.” With that, she patted my hand, bid us good evening, and ushered us back into the night.

When we got back to the carnival proper, Susan was stoked. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, barely containing her excitement. “I know what we have to do, y'all! We should get tattoos of our expiration dates!” I was a little shaken up, but Susan's exuberance was contagious, and we headed to the closest tattoo place to get our tatts.

We should have taken it more seriously.

Since then, I have stayed in my home town, living the beautiful life of my dreams as I watched my friends live the lives the fortune teller predicted: Susan had a man leave her at the alter, another join her there before giving her a beautiful girl whom she named after me, and then she won the lottery. She used some of the lottery money to buy a trip to Hungary to see where her ancestors came from. While there, her taxi was in an accident and she died on July 19, 2019.

Dave became a carpenter. He loved every minute of his work and then went home to his beautiful wife and spunky son each night. In 2020, he died with a broken heart having lived just long enough to watch his family succumb to the pandemic which passed him over before he took his life on November 03, 2020.

Leah and I stayed together the weekend of that funeral. We were scared because we had also been living the lives the fortune teller had predicted. She was single, free, and traveled often for work. She had seen every wonder of the continental US, been to countless zoos and museums, and was living her best life... and she might only be able to live it for another two years.

It was the same for me. I had two children and another on the way, a husband who loved me passionately, and a classroom which brought me joy every day. We wracked our brains to try to remember the name of the carnival or the name of the fortune teller, thinking we would go back to her and see if she could help us somehow. We made all kinds of plans for our expiration dates, finally agreeing to making sure we were together on March 12 and February 01.

I watched my best friend die on March 12, 2022. We were sitting at a coffee shop in a big city talking about how Leah's tattoo had been itching lately and wondering if it was psychosomatic as her date approached when a car drove by and opened fire. The shooter sprayed the front of the shop with bullets and one of them hit Leah in the head and killed her almost instantly. I watched her grimace and then I watched the light fade from her eyes as she passed.

Well, it's almost my expiration date. I am a believer. I have a few days left and I am still frantically searching for the woman, or the carnival, or anyone who can help me. I've taken the rest of the month off so I can spend the days looking for a way out and the evenings enjoying my family and trying not to cry. I have written letters to each of them and post dated them to be delivered on February 02.

I'm writing this last bit on my phone as I walk. It's fifteen years to the day since we had our fortunes told and the carnival is back in town. I didn't spend as much time here as I did when my friends were with me. I didn't eat myself sick or ride any rides. I wandered around looking for the dart game and the arrow on the ground until I found it. I'm standing at the top of the alley, my stomach churning at the thought of walking down and finding the tent.

I don't have much hope, but my tattoo itches and I think I smell incense.