False Memory by Dan Krokos

we’ve done together. The kiss didn’t stir up forgotten memories for him either; according to just about everyone, we were together a week ago. It was probably normal to him. I find myself jealous; he has that over me, he can know everything about our past, and I can have only glimpses.
    So I ask just before I chicken out. “Did we have sex?”
    I feel myself blushing as the seconds pass.
    Finally he smirks. Not exactly what I want to see at the moment. “No. Phil said it was forbidden.”
    Suddenly I remember the dream-memory of Noah in my bed. I told him No, but can’t remember why.
    Noah looks pained for an instant, just like Peter had before digging out my tracker. Peter. Here we are trading barbs instead of searching for Peter and Olive.
    He crouches, keeping his eyes on the tree line upriver. His voice is quiet.
    “Phil taught us most of our hand-to-hand combat skills, some swordplay too. He said our power came from within, that sex would diminish it, and also ruin whatever relationship we had as a team. Shaolin monks figured out the power thing a long time ago. He was probably just saying that to keep us in line, but we were too competitive with each other to risk it.” A pause. He pivots on the balls of his feet, half-facing me. “Not that you didn’t want to.”
    My neck prickles with sweat. I look away. “Well I don’t now.”
    “You remembered,” he says. “When I kissed you under the water, you remembered a little what it was like with me. I could feel it in your lips.”
    “Whatever I felt doesn’t matter.”
    “Yes it does.”
    “No, because whatever was between us is reset. I don’t know you.” I stand up, fighting to keep my voice down. “Why did you do it, Noah? Why did you think you had that right? We grew up together. You knew I could take care of myself. You knew I’d want to stand by you guys and figure things out together.” I can only assume that last part is true. If it’s how I feel now, it’s how I would’ve felt then. I would’ve wanted that chance, the choice to fight beside them.
    He stares at the rock under our feet, unfocused, like he’s trying to decide something. He rises from his crouch and walks to me.
    “What is it?” I finally ask.
    “What if I said...what if you gave me permission? What if I’d asked you, and you’d said yes?”
    “Said yes to erasing my memories?” No. No way. He’s lying.
    He takes my hands and rubs his thumbs over the backs of my knuckles. I want to pull away, I even try a little, but Noah holds me fast. He’s closer now, only a foot between our faces.
    “Remember?” he says. “You have to. Try to remember. We were on the train. Do you remember the train?”
    I picture a train in my head, the one we surfed at night. Nothing else comes. I want him to be right, but I don’t see it.
    “I asked you a question. If I had to do something, something you wouldn’t like, something you’d disagree with, but I believed would keep you safe, and me safe, so we could stay together. I asked you that, and I said, Would you trust me ?”
    Finally, falling into his eyes, the memory comes.
    We’re in a train yard, on top of an old rusted car off the tracks. We snuck out again. To my right, a train rumbles past, wheels scraping down the rails. The metal vibrates under us. I’m nestled in the crook of Noah’s arm, on our backs as we look up at the stars. He’s been distant tonight, distracted.
    I turn into him more, draping my arm over his chest. His hand strokes my hair, tracing a line around my ear.
    “What’s wrong?” I finally say.
    “Nothing.”
    “Noah,” I say.
    After a while, he sighs. “There’s something I have to do.”
    “What is it?” My right ear is over his heart. I hear it pound a little faster.
    “It’s something awful, and unfair, and selfish. But I think it might be the right thing. For us.”
    “Okay. So tell me.”
    “I can’t tell you. I can’t.”
    I get up on one elbow, looking down at him. He tilts his