Waking up, I found two husbands in
my bed.
Waking up, I found two husbands in my bed.
18–year–old Jake, with a sparkle in his eyes,
said, “So, can I call you my wife now?”
I glanced at 28–year–old Jake, who was still
pretending to be asleep, and shook my head.
“Nope, we’re getting divorced soon.”
1
The scar on 18–year–old Jake’s face was still
pretty noticeable. Looking at it, the first thing
I remembered was him, face covered in blood,
grinning like a fool at the hospital, holding out
a crushed bouquet of flowers as he
<
But now…
The divorce papers had been sitting in my drawer for two months already.
The noise of me and 18–year–old Jake
waking up wasn’t exactly subtle.
I’d been startled by him, and he’d been
startled by 28–year–old Jake.
28–year–old Jake still hadn’t opened his
eyes. I wasn’t sure if he was too tired to wake
up, or if he was just avoiding me.
So, I took 18–year–old Jake into the living
room and explained the situation.
“This is the house of 28–year–old me and
you?”
18–year–old Jake stared at me for a long
while, then hurried back into the bedroom.
He studied 28–year–old Jake’s face, then
grabbed his phone, used his fingerprint to
unlock it, and checked the time.
After that, he came out, his eyes shining.
“Hey, Amy, his phone has our wedding photo
on the lock screen! How long have we been
married?”
“Six years.”
“So…so…can I call you my wife now?”
I looked at his hopeful face.
My heart felt like a barren wasteland.
<
Things that were hard for me to say to 28-
year–old Jake, I suddenly could say to 18-
year–old Jake.
Maybe it’s because, at this age, he still loved
- me.
I paused, then said, “No.
“Because we’re getting divorced soon.”
18–year–old Jake stared at me in disbelief,
his eyes showing confusion and hurt.
But in the end, he just asked, cautiously,
“Amy, did I do something wrong?”
I looked into his eyes.
They were still so bright, so full of hope.
My divorce papers had been printed out for
ages.
But I hadn’t been able to bring myself to pull
them out.
Because I knew very well that it wasn’t just
28–year–old Jake that I’d be letting go of.
There was also 22–year–old Jake, kneeling
down at the company entrance to propose to
me; 20–year–old Jake, skipping classes to
take me stargazing; 18–year–old Jake, taking
a knife for me and getting that scar; 12–year-
old Jake, protecting me; 8–year–old Jake,
huddling together with me to keep warm,
singing me to sleep….
My life was so short, only 28 years.
<
For a whole 25 years, I had been tangled up
with him.
Letting him go was like tearing off a piece of
my own flesh..
I just couldn’t.
So, I decided to pass the problem on to him.
At this moment, 28–year–old Jake finally
woke up. He tidied himself up, came into the
living room, and kissed me on the forehead.
He completely ignored 18–year–old Jake,
probably because he literally couldn’t see
him.
“Amy, I’m off to work. You’re off today, right?
Stay home and get some rest. I’ll order us
<
I gave him some face in front of 18–year–old
Jake and replied faintly, “Have a good day.”
18–year–old Jake looked at us with even
more confusion.
In his eyes, we must have looked like a loving
couple.
Not long after 28–year–old Jake left, I
gathered my things and got ready to go out.
As I was leaving, I told 18–year–old Jake,
“Come with me.”
18–year–old Jake and I ended up at a coffee
shop.
I led him, as if I’d done it a million times.
before, to a secluded table. It was tucked
<
away behind a large potted plant that
provided good cover.
Then, I waved over a server and ordered two
black coffees.
The server asked politely, “Miss, are your
waiting for a friend?”
I was taken aback, realizing that the server
probably couldn’t see 18–year–old Jake.
So, was 18–year–old Jake a traveler who’d
suddenly warped from ten years in the past,
or a ghost roaming in my memories?
18–year–old Jake had been a bit out of it
since he sat down.
He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced at
く
the bitterness. I was amused by his reaction.
“What’s wrong? This is your favorite drink
now.”
I pushed the coffee closer to him, propping
my chin on my hand as I looked at him.
“You were always telling me that you were
over the girly stuff.”
“That’s him. I still like milk tea,” he pushed the
coffee aside, as if it was a threat.
I knew he really did like milk tea.
When we were 16, we worked together at a
milk tea shop to help support our family.
I was at the counter, and he was in the back.
When we closed up for the night, the staff
could take the leftover milk tea home. Jake
would fill a big cup with all the toppings and
then another big cup with milk tea for me.
We’d walk home, and I’d sip the milk tea that
didn’t have a lid. Jake would take the cup of
toppings and add them to my drink as I went.
If I couldn’t drink anymore, he’d take the milk
tea and drink it himself.
He loved sweet drinks, but he always made
mine low–sugar to suit my tastes.
The coffee shop door opened again.
This time, 28–year–old Jake walked in.
And there was a very pregnant woman, who
he was carefully guiding to a table.
く
I watched as 18–year–old Jake’s eyes
widened, an angry expression spreading
across his face, his fists clenching.
I smiled even more.
How ironic.
We were truly childhood sweethearts, we had
the exact same reaction when we saw this
scene.
28–year–old Jake helped the woman sit down
at the counter, ordered a sweet milk tea for
her, specifically asking that it be lukewarm,
not too hot or cold.
He didn’t order any coffee for himself.
Instead, he grabbed another straw and shared.
the same drink with the woman.
L
“Looks like your taste hasn’t changed.”
I lost my smile and said to 18–year–old Jake,
“It’s just changed when it comes to me.”
“That’s not me!”
18–year–old Jake trembled with anger, but he
didn’t go over there and drive off the people
who were hurting me, like he used to. He also
didn’t grab my hand and frantically explain,
either.
He just sat there, helplessly wringing the hem
of his shirt under the table.
“Are you still wondering why I want a
divorce?”
<
I set down my coffee, too.
The bitterness of the coffee was doing its
best to keep the sadness down, but it was
rising up, threatening to drown me.
“Amy, just give me another chance…”
“Why don’t you go ask him? There might be
some misunderstanding…”
Π
A wet, smacking sound interrupted us.
We both looked toward the counter.
Those two were kissing, oblivious to the
world.
18–year–old Jake was silent. There wasn’t
anything left to explain.
<
He finally looked at me, wanting to reach out
to hold my hand, to tell me not to cry, not to
feel bad.
But in the end, 18–year–old Jake didn’t reach
out.
Because he was the one causing me pain.
“I’m sorry… Amy…”
“Don’t beat yourself up.”
I looked away, taking a sip of my coffee.
A few teardrops fell into my cup, making little
ripples.
And when I looked up again,
<
18–year–old Jake was gone.
Leaving behind a cup of cold black coffee in
the corner.
As icy as my own heart.
I got up, ready to go home, get my things
together, and contact a lawyer, and officially
start the divorce proceedings with Jake. He
was the one at fault, and he should have to
pay for it.
Before going home, I first went to the house
where Jake and I used to live the house
where Jake’s father used to live.
Jake’s father had disappeared after he got
out of prison. No one had been to the house
in a long time. When I opened the door, dust
<
My life was a bitter pill.
My parents died when I was 3, and I didn’t
have any other relatives.
