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."
