In Her Amnesia, I Learned to Walk Away

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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?】