The first thing the eighteen-year-old Kevin asked when he time-traveled to my present was, "Did I cheat on you, years from now?" From my lonely perch in this giant villa, I asked in surprise, "How did you know?" Eighteen-year-old Kevin gripped my hand. "Evelyn, just you wait. I'm going to beat the living crap out of my future self!" Leaning against the doorframe, twenty-nine-year-old Kevin asked with a cold smirk, "Beat the crap out of who?" "Trying to move in while the master's away? Have some shame, Kevin." 1. From our first date to our wedding day to this life together, it took Kevin and me nearly eleven years. But when I found a long strand of hair that wasn't mine on his suit jacket and the smudge of cheap, dusty rose lipstick on his collar, I knew. Kevin was cheating. I accepted it with a strange sense of calm. It had been a long time coming. Humans aren't built for eternal devotion. In the end, love is just a contract of responsibility. Besides, Kevin gave me so much. Every time he came back from one of his trysts, he’d bring me a designer gift as a peace offering. Every week, money would appear in my account like clockwork. Watching the numbers on my bank statement climb, I learned to live with it. After all, I was useless. Shoulders that couldn't carry a thing, hands that couldn't lift. The kind of delicate disaster who sees stars just from standing up too fast. Whenever he finally got tired of me and asked for a divorce, I’d just grab my closets full of designer clothes and my collection of black cards and disappear. But then, that night, the eighteen-year-old version of Kevin traveled here through a painting I’d made long ago. I was curled up on the couch, eating spicy takeout and binge-watching a show, when a voice called out from behind me. "Evelyn?" I turned to see a young, boyish face. I stared for a long moment before speaking. "Kevin, did you secretly get a facelift behind my back?" "..." He blinked, then grabbed my hand. "You idiot! I'm the eighteen-year-old Kevin." He held my hand tight, waving his arms around wildly as he explained how he’d come through the painting. "I just touched it, and then this powerful, mysterious force just yoinked me into the future!" When you get to a certain age, your emotions tend to level out. I calmly watched this dramatic teenager. "Have you had dinner? You want to grab a bite before you go? I ordered enough for two." Eighteen-year-old Kevin shook his head frantically. "I didn't come here to eat!" "I came to ask you something important. Did I—the future me—fucking cheat on you?" That caught me off guard. "How did you know?" His eyes turned red. "Evelyn, you just wait. I swear I'm going to kill me!" Before either of us could react, a cold laugh echoed from the doorway. Twenty-nine-year-old Kevin was back, I don't know when. He held a gift bag in one hand, his shoulder resting against the doorframe. His gaze landed like a physical weight on our joined hands. "Kill who?" "And who gave you permission to hold my wife's hand?" "Trying to steal what's mine while I'm away? Have a little self-respect, Kevin." The younger Kevin was a lit fuse. He shot to his feet. "Who the hell is the shameless one here? You're sneaking around behind this beautiful woman's back, and you have the nerve to talk!" The older Kevin pulled me to his side. "You are, obviously. This is my wife, not yours. Now crawl back to whatever hole you came from." The two Kevins started shouting over each other, and my head began to throb. The younger one, his eyes red-rimmed again, pointed a trembling finger. "Evelyn, you choose! Do you want the eighteen-year-old me, or this thirty-year-old fossil!" His expression screamed, If you don't pick me, I'm going to throw a fit. 2. My twenty-nine-year-old husband let out a contemptuous laugh. "Kids are so melodramatic. What can you possibly give Evelyn? Go on, I'd love to hear it." He pulled a glittering necklace from a box—the latest piece from my favorite designer—and gently fastened it around my neck. "I can give her anything she wants. And you?" "What can you do besides scream?" I thought the eighteen-year-old would back down. The adult world was far more complicated than he could imagine. But in the next second, his eyes welled up as he shot back, "At least I'm factory-new! Not like your second-hand equipment!" "..." It wasn't just the older Kevin who went silent. I did, too. My husband's face darkened. After a long pause, he forced the words out. "Evelyn, I am not 'second-hand'." The younger Kevin pulled me toward him. "Don't believe him. Even if he's not second-hand, he could be third-hand, fourth-hand, who knows? And you know Evelyn never shares." The older Kevin was losing his famous composure, his anger rising to meet his younger self's. "The only thing that matters is who can make her feel good! Are you as big as me? Do you have my technique? What can you do on your first time besides fumble around like an idiot?" The younger Kevin covered my ears. "La la la, I can't hear you!" That was the last straw. The older Kevin looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. He grabbed my wrist. "Evelyn! The choice is yours. Choose. Me, the twenty-nine-year-old! Or him, the eighteen-year-old!" The younger one held onto my other hand for dear life, placing it on top of his head as he whispered pleadingly in my ear, "Evelyn, don't go to him. Please, pick me?" The older one roared, "Have you no shame, Kevin!" "If it's for Evelyn, I don't need shame!" the younger one yelled back. One Kevin was already enough to drive me crazy. Now there were two. I yanked my hands free and slapped them both across the face. "Both of you, shut up! It's too damn loud!" "I'm trying to eat. Go back to where you came from and do whatever it is you're supposed to be doing!" The eighteen-year-old clutched his cheek, looking at me with wounded eyes. The twenty-nine-year-old just let out a quiet chuckle and worked his jaw. "By the way, Kevin…" They both answered at once. "Which one?" My gaze settled on the older one's face. "I've made up my mind," I said coolly. "I'll go on the blind date you set up for me." "After all, you said it yourself. A hundred thousand dollars for each meeting, and if I find someone I like, I get shares in your company. An offer that good would be stupid to refuse." A sharp, wounded noise escaped the younger Kevin. "What?! Kevin, have you lost your goddamn mind? How could you do this to Evelyn after everything she's been through with you?" The older Kevin sneered. "Was I really this immature at eighteen?" "Stop looking at the adult world through your childish lens and go back to college where you belong." "And stay away from Evelyn. I only arrange the best for her." The younger Kevin punched the older one square in the jaw. "Bullshit! I won't let Evelyn leave my world. Not even for you!" And with that, he vanished back into the painting. I stared at the canvas, reaching out to touch it. Nothing happened. Apparently, only Kevin could open the passage. 3. The painting was my final project for a class. I named it Unforgettable. The subject was eighteen-year-old Kevin. Using soft, warm tones, I tried to capture the love that seemed to spill from the eyes of a boy as radiant as the sun. Suddenly, the older Kevin wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips brushing my ear. "Feeling sorry for him? Having regrets?" I turned to face him and laughed. He took my hand and placed it on his bruised cheek. "You should be feeling sorry for me." I'd already noticed the lipstick stain on his cuff. Today, it was a fiery terracotta. I looked at him, my smile laced with a double meaning. "Didn't you already eat your fill before you came home?" "You haven't touched me in ages. Did my eighteen-year-old self reawaken that long-dormant competitive spirit of yours?" Kevin froze for a second, then chuckled and let go of my hand. "Get some rest, Eve. Goodnight." He turned and walked away. I couldn't stop myself from calling out to his back. "Kevin, the person you're cheating with is the eighteen-year-old me, isn't it?" He paused but didn't answer. I was right. I’d found cigarette ash beneath the Unforgettable painting. Eighteen-year-old Kevin didn't smoke. It had to be the twenty-nine-year-old. Dusty rose and fiery terracotta. My two favorite lipstick shades my freshman year of college. The eighteen-year-old me was a vibrant, aspiring artist, full of life and sunshine. The almost-thirty-year-old me had lost all of that spirit, a money-obsessed recluse with no soul. The only person Kevin loved was the eighteen-year-old Evelyn. Luckily, the twenty-nine-year-old Evelyn wasn't sad. Because the only thing she loved now was money. A hundred thousand dollars for a blind date. I agreed without a second thought. No one turns their back on money. While the twenty-nine-year-old Kevin was scheming about how to handle the two versions of me across time, the eighteen-year-old Kevin was doing everything in his power to make both versions of me happy. This was the fifth blind date my husband had arranged. I offered a polite smile to the balding programmer across from me. His first sentence was: "I'm almost thirty, twenty-eight actually, a little younger than you. My mom says I need to have a kid soon, preferably a boy. It would be best if we could have two in two years." I stirred my coffee, quietly listening to him outline our post-nuptial life while mentally calculating how much my savings would grow after this was over. "Even though you're about to be divorced, I don't mind. My mom says a woman who's been married before is more experienced and knows how to take care of a man. And she'll be more skilled in bed. You know, one man plants the tree, another enjoys the shade." "Oh, and my mom said if we get married, she'll buy us a condo downtown…" SPLAT. A torrent of black coffee flew across the table, silencing his irritating monologue with its bitter aroma. "Your mom says this! Your mom says that! If your mom has so much to say, why don't you just marry her?" "Two boys in two years? You want Evelyn to give you two sons? In your dreams!" "Even I wouldn't dare to dream that big, and you're already living it!" The programmer stared in shock at the familiar face of his assailant. "Dude, are you having a fight with yourself? Weren't you the one who wanted to find a good man for your wife?" "None of your business! Take a look at yourself in a puddle! If you're not weaned yet, don't come out and ruin other people's lives!" ... A clean, fresh scent of mint washed over me. Eighteen-year-old Kevin grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the cafe amidst a string of curses. This was the fifth blind date he had ruined. The first guy got a fist to the face for staring at my chest a second too long. The second lost a tooth for calling me ugly. The third was so hideous he was kicked out the door before he could even step inside. The fourth was too poor. Kevin just tossed a credit card at him and told him to get lost. "Arrogant" was the only word for eighteen-year-old Kevin. Even now, with the twenty-nine-year-old version of himself watching us with a thunderous expression from his car, he wasn't afraid. Young Kevin shot him the middle finger and put a helmet on my head. Over the roar of the motorcycle, the boy’s defiant hair whipped in the wind as he complained angrily, "I can't believe he'd actually do something like this! The twenty-nine-year-old me is such a loser! Cheating on his wife! And then making her go on dates with other men!" "Thank god I came, or I can't imagine how much you would have suffered!"
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