I was busily talking to Kyuhyun over the phone that morning, and so I had the phone beside my ear from the moment I got dressed until I got to the hospital. Finally, when Kyuhyun hung up after he complained about how expensive long distance calls are, my ear felt hot for talking to him for a long time. That was only the time when I realized how I hadn’t really talked to Jihyuk all morning. But, as if she also realized it, Jihyuk sent me a message first. I was standing in the middle of the corridors while I eyed each word Jihyuk texted. Confused and dazed, I ignored everyone I bumped into and ran straight to Donghwa. Maybe he knew what was going on.

I skidded to a halt in front of his office. Taking a deep, deep breath, I knocked on his door softly. I was mentally bracing myself for the worst, my body preparing itself for the blow. I entered his office in long strides and sat in front of him. He didn’t look surprised to see me. “Tell me,” I started nervously. I fidgeted with my hands under the table. “What’s with Jihyuk?” I asked.

Donghwa looked at me intently and asked, “Why, what’s with her?”

I slammed my fist on the table. “I have no idea! That’s why I’m asking you. I’m dying here, hyung. Tell me!”

“I meant to ask,” he clarified calmly. “What did she do?”

I was almost in tears in frustration. “I don’t know!” I exclaimed, raking a hand through my hair, and tried to look back at how Jihyuk had been acting these days. “She seemed depressed these days, although we just celebrated her birthday last a few weeks ago. I mean, she was too busy to remember it was her birthday, and I took her out on a date for the whole day. Then she asked me if it was Valentine’s Day or whatever because she somehow knew that there was something going on. But it was her birthday and she had forgotten.” I stood up and paced around the room, trying to recall what things bothered me the most. “There was this one time when she kept asking me the same question over and over again for the whole day and I grew irritated and snapped at her. Sometimes she tells the same stories over and over again with the exact same words and the exact same tone and…I don’t know!” I looked at him, and he seemed to be attentively listening. “And this morning, she sent me a text wishing me luck on my licensure exams even though it was a year ago.” I sat down on my previous seat and searched Donghwa’s expression for answers. “Tell me, what’s happening to her?”

He took a deep breath, and without looking at me, said, “It’s Alzheimer’s.”

I could feel my strength slowly disappearing. I couldn’t feel my hands. “No…” I said weakly, shaking my head. “It can’t be. Sometimes when I tell her stories, she would burst out crying.” I tried laughing it off, but there were tears pooling in my eyes. “It’s just depression, right? Jihyuk’s just depressed. I told her to see you because I thought she was just depressed and restless and anxious but not…” My heart slowed to one heartbeat for each minute. My surroundings didn’t seem to be moving as if time had frozen. “…not Alzheimer’s. She’s not sick. Tell me this isn’t true.”

Donghwa looked at me apologetically behind his glasses. “I wish it were, Donghae. I really wish it were.”

For almost an entire minute, I couldn’t breathe. “Have you…”  I couldn’t think straight. “Have you told her that, yet?” When he nodded, I wish at any moment that I could wake up from this nightmare. But sadly, this was reality. Jihyuk had Alzheimer’s. A tear escaped from my eye. “You’re lying, hyung. You fooled us both. She’s not sick, right? You just hate her, that’s why you told her this and now you’re telling me this.”

And, as a response, he handed me a paper. It was a form he had asked Jihyuk to answer when she had gone to him for a checkup. “When she came to me and I asked her a few questions, I found out that she was in the middle of the third and fourth stage. See, she took a lot of time writing the correct date,” he said, pointing out to me a portion of the paper full of erasures. “Maybe you thought she was just normally forgetful. Some people mistaken Alzheimer’s to be just plain forgetfulness. But it’s more than that.”

“And you’re right, she’s depressed. People at that stage tend to decrease in productivity and begin to notice their decline in mental capacity, especially in memory, that’s why you think she’s depressed. When I told her she had Alzheimer’s, I was surprised to see how she took the news calmly, almost as if she knew it all along.”

“She can’t have Alzheimer’s,” I argued, still on the verge of disbelief. “She’s just 24. Old people usually get afflicted with it, right?”

Donghwa shook his head. “Anyone can have Alzheimer’s. Maybe it ran in her family, and she didn’t know. If she had known, maybe she could have done preventive measures to avoid all of these.” He took the papers from my hands.

Suddenly remembering one thing Jihyuk told me, “Did you tell her to quit her job?” I asked.

He nodded. “Even if she didn’t heed my advice and continued teaching, she would resign soon afterwards, if not get fired. Her brain functions won’t work as well as it did before, and Jihyuk will be unable to adapt to her surroundings and learn new things. She will need supervision in doing things, because she might make mistakes in computing grades or remembering names. Soon, she won’t be able to answer her phone or count backwards correctly,” Donghwa explained. “As much as she loves teaching, she would have to quit. It’ll be better for her, anyway.” Hearing quite enough, I stood up and prepared to leave. “Donghae,” he called out for the last time, causing me to come to a halt in the middle of his office. “You have to be strong for her.” I just nodded in response and walked away.

Clearing my throat and trying to sound as normal as possible, I dialed for Jihyuk’s number and tried calling her. A few rings sounded, but she wasn’t answering. I tried for a few more times, but I always ended up in her voicemail. I ended up panicking, and scurrying to the director’s office. On the way, I bumped against Eunyoung, and, after asking her to cover up for me, I rushed down to the parking basement. I shoved the keys in the ignition and wasted no time in gearing the car to move.

Driving like an ambulance driver, I arrived at home in a few minutes. I hurried to the elevator, but I wasn’t fast enough to catch the doors before it closed, so I ended up taking the emergency stairs two steps at a time in my haste. At the fifth floor, my legs felt like they would give up on me soon, but I pushed myself to keep going for two more floors. Once inside the apartment, I tried looking for Jihyuk, but there was no sign of her anywhere. What if she forgot to tie her shoelaces? What if she left her wallet behind? What if she’ll end up in Seongnam again? How will she be able to go back home? How will she find her way back to me?

I exited the house again and rode the elevator down. Instead of bringing my car along, I decided to walk along the district, hoping to find her along the streets and not so far away. Two blocks from the apartment, I found the library where we first met, but couldn’t find her anywhere, The table where she had etched her name was still there, and although it had been repainted, her writing was still visible. She can’t possibly leave me like this, right? I walked some more and found the fast food chain where she used to work. I passed by the alley where I had asked her to take me back, and felt my heart crumble to pieces. Where could she be?

From that time until it grew dark, I walked and walked, trying to search for her anywhere, but only ended up missing her more. I was parched and starving and exhausted by the time I had reached the park. I collapsed on the bench and felt more desperate than ever. Fast-moving wheels sounded against concrete and I whipped my head towards the direction of the sound. She was still as wobbly as ever above the skateboard. When it seemed as if she would lose her balance, she put one foot down on the ground for the wheels to gradually skid to a stop. While holding on to her board, she looked at me and smiled. “You’re here,” Jihyuk said and sat beside me. I just looked at her. “Look at this,” she said, gesturing to the skateboard in her hands. “It’s missing a wheel. Skateboards are supposed to have five wheels, right?” Her eyes searched for answers and there was something in them that broke my heart. “If skateboards only have four wheels, then if you put all your weight in the middle, it might break. The fifth wheel in the center will be the support, right?” she asked, but I wasn’t responding. Jihyuk hit my arm and let the skateboard fall to the ground.

Staring at somewhere far off, “You already know, don’t you?” she asked, and faced me. Jihyuk looked me in the eyes for a while, then reached out to cover my eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said faintly. “You look at me with so much pity. I feel so small and weak in front of you.” Her voice broke, but she ended her sentence with a smile. “Is tonight the night when the government only allows a hundred words for each person?” I still didn’t respond, so she took it as a yes. With a tear falling down her cheek, “You gave up your words for me?” she asked.

“If only I had known back then that I would be sick, I wouldn’t have gotten back with you,” she started. “I should have just ignored you until you had grown tired and given up. If that had happened, you would be looking at me now and think that you had made the right decision before.” Then she turned to look at me, and we stare at each other’s tear-strewn cheeks and glassy eyes. “I have an eraser in my head. 지혁의지우개*. You know what, after a few more months I will forget you. A mental death will take place first before a physical one. I will forget your face. I will forget why we’re living together, why we sleep together, and why we wake up together. Do you want that?” she asked, her tears uncontrollable. “I will forget how many ice cubes you want in your drink and how many spoonfuls of sugar you want in your coffee. I will forget why Hyukjae left, and why I stayed with you. More than just forgetting where I put my pen, I will forget where we live. I will change my mind always, and I will be inconsistent. You can’t live with that.”

“I can,” I defended.

“You can’t,” Jihyuk said, shaking her head. “You’re a man of consistency. Remember? You like finding things where you left them. You wake up the same time each morning. You call me the same time every day. You sit on the same chair every morning for almost a year, and now you’re telling me you can live with me?” She sniffled, and I cried with her, because that was the only comforting I could do. “And that’s the thing. I don’t want you to be inconsistent. Inconsistency means change. And I don’t want you to change. What if you change your mind? What if you look at me differently? What if you feel differently? Will you still love me in the morning?”

She sighed and looked up at the dark sky. “I will forget everything soon, so no matter how kind or how mean you are to me, it won’t matter. Your brother told me that the most recent memories disappear first, so tomorrow morning, maybe I won’t remember what happened today.” She wiped my tears with her thumb. “Aish, this crybaby.” Jihyuk smiled at me. “Why are you crying? Have you lost your parents? Have you lost your country?”

I snorted. “You remember that?”

“Of course, so tell me,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder. “How will I be able to remember your name when I won’t even remember mine?”

Wiping my tears and fixing my composure, “I know you’re afraid,” I said. “But I’m afraid too. Who will iron my clothes when you forget how to lift your hand?” She lightly punched my arm while I pulled her closer. “I’ll do everything to help you. We’ll find ways to slow it down. Even if he’s a stranger to me back then, I’ll ask help from Donghwa just for you. If he asks, I’ll be willing to beg on my knees if it meant that he will help you. I’ll help you, Jihyuk. If you want, I’ll even remember for you.” I could feel the tears returning. “I’m smart, remember? I didn’t rank fourteenth in the licensure exams for nothing. I’ll keep in mind the ideas and thoughts you have so I’ll be able to remind you.” Holding her by her shoulders, I looked at her directly in the eyes. “I trust you, and all you have to do is trust me. Trust me, okay? You believe in me, right? Because these things will pass too.”

Probing her cheeks, I looked at her tenderly. More tears fell down her face. “But I want to remember. I want to remember everything – my parents, my sister, my elementary school, visits to the dentist, my graduation, the books I read, the library, your face, what you wore that day, what you first said to me, when you kissed me, where we live, what you gave me for Christmas, when we got married— everything. I don’t want to forget. I’m so scared to forget.” And she couldn’t fight the sobs that erupted from deep inside her.

I chuckled, wiped her cheeks dry using her shirt, and kissed her softly. I have to be strong for her. “You won’t forget everything, okay? And even if you do, I’ll remember for you. I’ll be your memory.” I said, pointing to my forehead. “I’ll remember everything for you,” I said, comforting her in my embrace. “All you have to do is remember me.”

When her crying stopped, I ducked down and carried her on my back. With the skateboard in my hands and Jihyuk behind me, I started to travel the path towards the apartment. Aside from her arms occasionally encircling tighter around my neck and her kissing my cheek once in a while, Jihyuk remained quiet for the whole journey. When I finally opened the door to the house and set the skateboard down, Jihyuk was already asleep. I spent the next few hours screwing a fifth wheel in the middle of the skateboard.

***

*지혁의지우개 (Jihyukui jiugae) – Jihyuk’s eraser (word play) I really chose the name Jihyuk for this purpose :)