In Her Amnesia, I Learned to Walk Away

1: 1

My wife has intermittent amnesia. She never remembers what I tell her.

On our wedding anniversary, I set the last dish on the table and said to her,

My heart's been bothering me. I want to get it checked out tomorrow. Will you come with me?

She just looked at me, puzzled. Hm? What did you just say?

Beside her, her childhood friend Merlin Roy was smiling like it was some kind of dare.

He gave a little cough. "Oh, I think I might be running a fever."

Instantly she turned to him, worried. "You've got a fever? Were you up all night gaming again?"

Then something seemed to dawn on her, and she looked at me, apologetic.

"Sorry, Des. I can never hold on to the things you say."

I said nothing. I got up and left the table.

The next day I went to the hospital alone. The diagnosis was anemia, brought on by long-term overwork.

I panicked. "But my wife is sick. I need to do a bone marrow transplant for her."

The doctor shook his head. In my condition, he said, an operation like that was out of the question.

There was nothing I could do but call my wife and explain.

But it was too noisy on her end. She didn't seem to catch what I said. "Huh? What did you just say?"

The line was still open, and through it came Merlin's laughter.

"This is too good. Des never once suspected that you not understanding him is a game."

"The marrow donation's a sure thing, right? This patient in my department is loaded. Says if I get him the marrow, he'll give me half a million dollars!"

...

Then came my wife Noreen Sawyer's voice, laughing.

"No problem. Desmond Shepherd will do anything for me."

"I'll just tell him I need the marrow to cure my amnesia. He'll donate without a second thought, and it goes straight to your department."

Merlin couldn't stop laughing. "Nor, don't you feel a little bad, doing this to Des?"

"It's just marrow. It won't kill him. Your career matters more than anything."

"Besides, he's my husband. Isn't it his job to give something up for me?"

"And honestly, this game works like a charm. Last time, when his mother was in the hospital, I went to Miami with you, and when I came home I just told him I didn't remember. He didn't even blame me."

I held the phone, and a cold went through my whole body.

A game?

Not long after we married, Noreen told me she had intermittent amnesia.

She would forget the things I said, forget my birthday, forget that I was allergic to shellfish.

We went to every major hospital. No one could find the cause.

Her college classmate, who worked in neurology, told me gravely that it might be a rare disease.

Frantic, I gave up a chance to study abroad and stayed local, working while I took care of her. Every meal, three times a day, handled with the greatest care.

And it turns out they were telling each other it was a game?

I didn't make a sound. I just calmly hung up.

I walked out of the exam room and leaned against the wall as my head started spinning again.

To cure this amnesia of hers, I'd worked myself to the bone.

Two straight years of taking on projects without a single day off,

staying up until my heart raced and my hands shook, drinking coffee like it was water.

Running on empty for so long, my body had been flashing warning signs for a while.

Constant dizziness. Migraines that lasted all night.

After she told me a bone marrow transplant might cure her,

I threw myself into saving money like I'd grabbed hold of a lifeline.

Countless nights, I curled up in bed with my head pounding.

I nudged Noreen awake. "My head hurts so much... could you get me a cup of hot water?"

She just rolled over, turning her back to me, her voice thick with sleep. "What did you just say?"

Her amnesia had flared up again.

Every time it did, it wasn't just that she couldn't remember what I said. Her temper turned foul too.

I grabbed her arm. "I said, get me a cup of hot water..."

She shook off my hand and pulled the blanket over her head.

The pain forced a groan out of me before I could stop it.

Only then did she finally sit up and snap at me, exasperated.

"You're a grown man. Can you stop being so dramatic?"

"You know I'm sick. If you don't let me sleep and my condition gets worse, then what?"

I bit down on the pain with everything I had.

For her. For this home.

And all of it, from beginning to end, was nothing but a con.

If she chose to forget, then I had nothing left to say.

I sent my former boss a message. That startup project you mentioned last time. Can I still join?

2: 2

At dusk I pushed open the front door, and laughter spilled out of the living room.

Noreen and Merlin's friends were all at my place again.

They'd been middle-school classmates, running around together for over a decade.

Back when this started, the doctor she'd found had suggested she spend more time with familiar friends, that it would help her recovery.

So in the name of her treatment, they came over every few days as if it were the natural thing to do, treating the home I'd so carefully put together like a hotel.

They all turned to look at me when they heard the door.

A few of them traded a knowing glance.

Merlin cleared his throat on purpose and said, smiling,

"Come to think of it, Nor and Des have been married three whole years now."

"Somebody's amnesia just won't get better. How about I help the two of you remember, hmm?"

Noreen popped a potato chip into his mouth. "Remember what?"

"Remember how good you used to be to him." Merlin laughed behind his hand. "Back then you were so devoted. Went to pick him up from work every single day, even blew a whole month's pay on a graphics card for him."

Noreen looked at Merlin, puzzled. "Huh? What did you say?"

The game was starting again.

Merlin's eyes went wide. "No way. You don't remember any of that?"

She shook her head, baffled. "I don't."

"I did that kind of thing for him? Was I really that pathetic?"

I stood there at the entryway, watching her,

and my chest went tight and aching.

So in her heart, all that care and tenderness I'd once been shown,

had become, in her mouth, a shameful thing she was pathetic to have done.

Her crowd finally finished laughing and got around to greeting me.

"Des, you're finally back. Where's the roast duck Nor told you to bring us?"

"And my barbecue!"

"Ten bubble teas, you didn't forget, right? Has to be that place in Eastside."

I said nothing.

I thought back to the beginning, when I'd assumed these friends came over every few days out of concern for Noreen,

and I'd tried so hard to please them, doing whatever they asked.

I had actually noticed it: Noreen's amnesia only ever seemed to strike when she was facing me.

Merlin caught a cold once, and a month later she still remembered to tell him to bundle up.

The things her friends wanted, she never forgot either.

So how was it that when I was hospitalized with pneumonia, she couldn't even remember my room number?

I'd asked her about it, and she'd only look at me with those eyes full of the deepest guilt and say,

"Des, I'm sorry. I'll work hard to get better, just don't give up on me."

Later, as if to prove to me how often her intermittent amnesia flared up, she had an episode in front of her friends too.

One day I was in the kitchen washing dishes,

and I heard her friends laughing out in the other room.

"Honestly, what does Nor even see in him? How'd she end up with a boyfriend like that?"

"Right? Such a dud. Sour face all day, like everyone owes him money."

"No taste in clothes either. That jacket he wore to the last get-together was hopelessly tacky."

But Noreen sat there smiling along as if she hadn't heard a word.

Only when she noticed the odd way her friends were looking at her did she ask, slow and vague, "Huh? What were you all just saying?"

Their jabs and their slander about me, she couldn't hold onto those either.

So this, it turned out, was a game.

A game they used to freeze me out and laugh at me.

"Desmond, we're talking to you. Do you hear me?"

A girl in the middle named Aria Dickerson started shouting.

"Where's the bubble tea we wanted? Why'd you come back empty-handed?"

3: 3

I lowered my head numbly and pulled out my phone.

Noreen really had messaged me over two hours ago, a long errand list laid out one item after another.

At the time, I'd been asking a friend in the medical field to look into her so-called amnesia at the hospital where she worked.

He'd told me flatly that no such illness existed in medicine.

And even if it did, the treatment would never be a bone marrow transplant.

"I didn't see it," I said quietly.

Noreen's face darkened at once. "You didn't see it?"

"Is your phone just for show? Everyone's sitting here starving, waiting on you half the day, and all you've got is 'I didn't see it'? Is there anything you can actually do right?"

Right on cue, Merlin clutched his chest and looked ready to faint.

Noreen spun to him in a panic. "Merl, what's wrong?"

He spoke weakly. "It's nothing... I probably just haven't eaten in too long. A little low blood sugar..."

Her expression tightened. She hurried to the cupboard and yanked out the box on the top shelf.

It was the cured ham my father had mailed from home. I'd been saving it, never able to bring myself to eat it.

"Don't touch that, please," I said without thinking.

"That's from my dad. There are crackers in my bag"

"What do I care about your specialty ham?" She frowned and glared at me. "You couldn't be bothered to bring food back, so what happens if Merl passes out from low blood sugar? People die from that!"

She tore the box open, sliced the ham, and carried it over to Merlin.

I stood where I was and watched her.

People die from low blood sugar?

So she did know it could kill.

Back when I was pulling nonstop days to hit a project deadline, sleeping less than ten hours across three days,

when I woke at dawn shaking and cold-sweating from a bad drop in blood sugar and begged her to bring me a piece of candy,

what was she doing then?

Her amnesia had flared up again.

She'd looked at me half-asleep. "What did you just say?"

I watched the gift box torn to pieces while they grinned and passed around the ham my father had sent.

Merlin gave me an embarrassed look. "Des, don't be mad. My blood sugar really did crash, I wasn't trying to eat your stuff on purpose... I'll buy you a box to make up for it."

Noreen patted his head. "Don't bother explaining to him. He's got a mind as small as a pinpoint."

Her friends chimed right in. "Exactly. Desmond, you're a grown man, aren't you being too petty? A box of ham's not worth anything. And it doesn't even taste good."

"Merl's not feeling well and you, his big brother, don't show the slightest bit of concern."

"Nor, get your husband under control. That long face he's pulling is bad luck to look at."

Noreen couldn't keep face any longer. She cleared her throat.

"All right, all right. He's been busy at work lately, short-tempered. Don't hold it against him."

"Everyone hang on a little longer, I'll take him out for food and we'll pick this back up when we're home."

She dragged me toward the door before I could get a word in.

My lower back ached, and I stumbled from the pain, but she yanked me roughly out the door anyway.

Noreen jerked the wheel hard as she drove, scolding me the whole time.

"Desmond, are you trying to make me lose face on purpose?"

"Merl and the others only came over to help treat my illness. Would running one errand actually kill you?"

"Those are my friends. You married me, and you can't even bring yourself to host them?"

I didn't say anything.

She was really immersed in this game of hers.

I knew why she was angry.

In that circle, Noreen ranked at the bottom.

Merlin was its center: good family, good looks, everyone orbiting him.

The others each had their own backing too.

Only Noreen had tagged along since childhood, used to being the one on the fringe who kept the mood up.

Deep down she was insecure.

And to please them, to prove she was somebody too, the only way she could feel she mattered was by pushing me around.

She was showing them: look, my husband does whatever I say, I ask and he obeys. At home I'm the absolute queen.

"Say something! Have you gone mute?" Noreen snapped, out of patience when I stayed silent. "What were you off doing earlier?"

I drew a breath. "I went to the hospital today."

She cut me off. "It's just chest tightness, isn't it?"

"Could you stop being so delicate? Merl has premature heartbeats and he's not carrying on like it's the end of the world the way you do."

I looked at her. "You remember?"

She froze for a second, realizing what had slipped out.

But she still put up a front. "Yeah, that's just how my condition is. And what's wrong with remembering? Remembering means it's getting better."

I said nothing more and only lowered my head.

The day Merlin went in to have his heart checked was my birthday.

She'd forgotten it clean and spent a whole day and night with him.

When she got home, she looked at me with that apologetic expression again and said she didn't remember.

I followed silently behind her and we bought the food together.

At a roadside stand, she went out of her way to buy me a grilled sausage, the kind I'd liked back in college, and said,

"There, don't be angry anymore."

"This sausage is just for you. The others don't get any."

Hearing that, I felt how bitterly ironic it was.

This was probably the only shred of tenderness she had left for me, or for this marriage.

I pushed the door open to a living room hazy with smoke and beer cans knocked over across the floor.

The moment Aria saw us, she started clamoring.

"Ugh, just drinking is boring. We want homemade dumplings!"

Noreen laughed. "No problem. Des'll make them for you."

She turned to me. "Go on. Make a few kinds of filling. Merl likes shrimp, so make a separate batch just for him."

I walked into the kitchen without a word.

I was already run-down, and I hadn't eaten all day.

Every muscle in my body ached faintly, and cold sweat kept beading up.

I forced myself to cut the vegetables. My vision went black,

and the blade sliced open my index finger, blood welling up in an instant.

4: 4

I froze, staring at the blood dripping onto the cutting board.

The strange thing was, it didn't hurt at all.

Maybe too much else already hurt, so a little cut like this didn't even register.

I walked out of the kitchen to grab a bandage from the bedroom.

But the second Merlin saw me come out bleeding, he let out a sharp hiss. "Sss"

Noreen was the first to rush over, checking his hand in a panic. "What's wrong? Did you get a splinter?"

She looked at Merlin's faintly reddened fingertip like it broke her heart, then whipped around and shouted at me:

"Desmond! When you handed him the chopsticks, couldn't you have checked for splinters first?"

"Merl's got delicate skin. Not like you, thick and tough."

Only after she'd finished yelling did she notice my hand, covered in blood.

She frowned, irritated. "Why are you so clumsy? You can't even cut vegetables without slicing your own hand?"

"Go deal with it, fast. Don't let blood get in the dumpling filling, or how's anyone supposed to eat?"

I looked at her.

Her attention had already gone back to Merlin's finger.

The friends crowded in around him too, one passing tissues, another blowing on it.

I dug out a bandage, wrapped it however it went on, and turned back to the kitchen.

They ate that meal in high spirits.

Afterward, they were sprawled across the couch when somebody floated the idea:

"Now that we're all full, Nor, how about we help you remember some old times again?"

Merlin laughed. "Sure. Who starts?"

Aria shot me a look first, then deliberately raised her voice:

"I'll go!"

"You don't know this, Nor, but the other day I saw your husband online, at a nightclub."

"But he wasn't there to buy. He was there to sell!"

"Know why you've got amnesia and your husband still married you? Because he was out there doing that kind of shameful thing."

They went one after another, laughing louder and louder, all of them turning to look at Noreen.

This game must have started as Noreen and Merlin's scheme against me.

For that half a million dollars, to trick me into donating marrow.

But little by little, they'd found a new way to play it.

After all, in the rules of the game, Noreen had amnesia.

They could use "treating her" as an excuse to insult and slander me in a joking tone.

If I got angry, they'd laugh and say I had no sense of humor, that it was just a joke, that the doctor had said stimulation therapy like this was good for Nor.

I hadn't questioned it at the time, because Noreen was a doctor herself.

I would force myself to swallow the humiliation, plaster on a smile, play dumb.

But now, I didn't want to swallow it anymore.

I stood up, my voice calm. "I'm not feeling well, I'm going to sleep. You all help her remember."

Seeing that I wouldn't play along, Aria slapped the table at once:

"Sleep? Everyone's having a good time, who're you sulking at?"

Noreen jumped up quickly. "Forget it, he's been donating marrow to treat me lately. He needs to rest and take care of himself. Let him go to bed, everyone."

I looked at that face I had once loved so deeply.

Then I took a diagnosis report out of my bag and laid it flat on the coffee table.

Under everyone's stunned stares, I looked at Noreen.

"I went to the hospital. You're not sick at all."

"You don't need my marrow."

"Noreen, let's get divorced."