The Amnesiac

The amnesiac strolled down the sidewalks of Brooklyn, on his way home from getting groceries. His family would be waiting for him.

He went casually down a side-street shortcut, empty save for a glum faced young man crossing in the other direction.

The man glanced over, eyes sad, then did a double take, following the amnesiac’s progress for a moment before he grinned hugely and rushed across the street towards him.

“Thomas!” The man cried, flinging himself upon the very confused boy, who let out an undignified squawk and dropped his bags of groceries as he struggled to worm his way free, but the other was too excited to notice this.

“Oh my God Tommy, it’s you. It’s really you. You’re OK. Alice and I - God we’ve been so worried, and Dad's just - holy shit this is insane. I’m so sorry I lost you I mean, I - we – we thought you were dead man. Oh thank God you’re safe. We’ve got to get you home - to tell the others– ” he grabbed Tom’s hand to pull him away, but he wouldn’t budge. The man gave Thomas an odd look.

“Tommy? C’mon, let’s go.” He pleaded.

“Do I know you?” Thomas asked coldly.

All the color drained from the man's face. “What?” He croaked, smile strained, brow furrowed, “Tom, it’s - it's me – Keanne.” He gestured to himself.

“How do you know my name?” Thomas demanded.

The man's face darkened. “I’m Keanne.” He snapped, scowling when Thomas still showed no signs of recognition. “Your brother? Of course I know your name Tommy. What the hell’s wrong with you?” Thomas just glared at him, arms folded. “Snap out of it Thomas, this isn’t funny anymore.” He just seemed scared now, and maybe a little lost. Comprehension dawned. “Don’t you – you  do know me right?” Keanne whispered, pleading etched on his face.

Thomas shook his head slowly, “You’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t have a brother – just my sister and Abby.”

Keanne’s face fell, and for an instant there was a trace of something broken in his features. But then he smiled, and the look was gone. "Oh.” He said at last, “I’m sorry for that. I just – you look just like my little brother, Thomas. Sorry if I freaked you out.”

“Yeah.” Thomas managed to say past the lump in his throat.

“Man - I've never done that before. But hey – you’ve got the same first name – what are the odds right?” he laughed mirthlessly, “what’s your last name anyways?”

“Reaver.” He said without thinking.

The effect of these words on the other boy was astronomical. He blinked and took a half-step back before recovering, “wow.” He said, visibly stunned, “umm. . . that’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Tom asked.

"That's my name. Keanne Reaver. You sure we haven't met?” Keanne asked, eyes narrowed.

Thomas bit his lip – how could he respond to that? That no, he couldn’t be sure if they'd met. Tell the guy that he couldn’t remember anything about his life before three years ago. How, for all he knew, they could be related. “What happened to your little brother?” he said at last.

Keanne blinked, “he, uhh he went missing - three years ago now. One minute he was walking behind me on our way to school, next thing he was gone. Been looking for him every since. He would’ve been 15 now.”

“Oh.” Tom said awkwardly, mind racing. Keanne's story matched his own disappearance almost perfectly. He rubbed his scarred palm absently. “Um. . . I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter anyways.” Keanne said quickly, "you’ve got parents. So, you couldn’t be him.” He said with a dismissive gesture.

“No, just Abby." Tom said, unsure why he wanted this man’s approval. “I’m adopted.” He confessed, seeing Keanne’s curious look.

Keanne’s quickly squashed look of hope was enough to make Tom hate himself for saying that. Keanne stared at him “you’re absolutely sure you don’t recognize me?” He accused.

Thomas stared, searching desperately for some trace of familiarity in the man's features.

Nothing.

He had always thought that if he found his real family, he’d know. Perhaps he’d been wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He said at last, stooping to pick up his bag from the pavement. “I’m sorry I couldn't help you more. But I’ve got to get these groceries home to Abby.”

“It’s cool man.” Keanne smiled wanly, and Thomas turned to go. “Actually - Wait!” Keanne called after him. “Let me give you my cell number – y’know – just in case.” He fumbled in his pocket for a sharpie and grabbing Thomas’ palm to write on. Keanne froze, “what the . . .”

Thomas yanked his hand away, but it was too late to prevent the look of horror etched on Keanne’s face at the sight of the words cut into his skin. “I have to go.” Tom said stiffly, turning and walking rapidly away.

Keanne unfroze, “Hey – wait!”

“Don’t come after me.” Thomas cast over his shoulder, clenching his right fist, where he had taken a scalpel to his flesh so that he would never forget who he was again: My name is Thomas Reaver.

And the amnesiac hurried away, oblivious to his brother staring back at him.