2003-10-23 - 9:23 p.m.
Pretty fulfilling day today. Nothing especially good, but I think I've gotten done with everything I needed to. Well, except for regular homework. Time for Latin, Creative Writing, and Government. Having a refresher on Socialism. Interesting idea, too bad people tried to force. Some day though, I believe we will evolve past Capitolism. Still the mixed economies we have aren't terrible or anything. I'd like to see more medical coverage and wellfare in the US, but nothing worth hosting a revolt. Now about that creative writing assignment. This is just off the top of my head, and we were assigned "What If" as a topic, so I hope it isn't too crappy.
I remember hearing somewhere that people can't change. I still haven't decided whether or not I believe that, though I've got no evidence to say otherwise. There was this guy though, Tom, and I've got a story related to this about him that defies belief.
When I was young, about ten or twelve, Tom and I were good friends. Back then we used to spend all our waking moments together. When we got together with a good group of friends he would often just sit back and soak everything in with that content smile of his. It was hard for me to tell what was on his mind, but he always had a way of improving my mood. But one day, that all changed.
It was near the beginning of Summer. I remember because it was still getting dark out early. I was supposed to meet Tom at the park, but it was past my curfew, so I had to sneak out. This wasn't anything new to me though, and everything was going just fine until out of nowhere this guy grabbed me! He ignored my screams as I pleaded for him to let me go and dragged me up the drive to my house. He paused for a moment and then said, "you'll thank me for this later." He then rang the bell and then brought his foot behind me and tripped me to the ground, though oddly he took care that I'd land gently, and then he disappeared. My parents were naturally very concerned when they answered the door to find my laying there. Needless to say I missed my meeting with Tom.
I didn't hear from Tom for a few days after that. At first I thought he might have just been holding a grudge since I missed him (he could be rather moody), and none of my calls were being answered at his place. It wasn't until the third day after my strange encounter that I recieved the bad news. Tom was in the hospital.
I was never too clear on what had happened that night. I heard bits and pieces in bitter recounts by Tom later on, and of course there was the police report. A gang of black kids had been out drunk that night, awfully angry about something, and looking for trouble. They found Tom sitting all by himself in the park, waiting for me. He may have tried to run, but knowing Tom, he was just as likely to have foolishly stood his ground. They beat him within an inch of his life, and probably would have gone further if the cops hadn't caught wind of the disturbance. Some of them were arrested, only one of them was ever convicted though.
Tom was different after that though. If anything could change a person, it would be a traumatic event like that. He became synical and pessimistic, and worst of all, racist. I can understand why, but it saddens me that he would let so few people ruin his oppinion of an entire race. I tried to help him, but his disposition became steadily worse until I could no longer stand him.
He was so hateful, not just to Blacks, but towards all minorities, anyone who was different, even women. I can't help but wonder if I had something to do with that last one. For the longest time, I didn't hear much of anything from him. I had caught wind that he'd joined some Neo Nazi orginization or the Klan, but I couldn't be sure. Then one day a man showed up at my door, shivering and in rags. Despite the years that had passed, and his unkempt state, I recognized Tom almost immediatly.
"What...?" I was baffled. Should I have been angry with him? Concerned for his state? Curious about his reasons? I kept coming back to anger, but then I looked in his eyes, and there was that old peacefulness, that joy I could never forget. "Here, come on in and we can talk."
"Thanks," despite how uncomfortable he must have been, his tone was still warm and sincere.
We talked for a long time, and his story was fascinating. He couldn't remember anything, at least not since that night so many years ago. Even that was fuzzy though. He had found himself lying in the streets of Cleveland bruised and bleeding. He couldn't think of anyone to turn to, but he remembered my name, and searched me out using a phone book. At least that was his story.
Tom was never much of a liar though, neither before or after the incident. He would shift around selfconsciously, and swallow heavily before speaking. Judging by his manner, I could tell that story must have been quite a stretch from the truth. I didn't say anything at the time though. One thing was for certain, the old Tom was back, or at least someone similar, and I was happy to have him.
I took him to the doctor, got him cared for, and agreed to let him live with me for a while. Sounds crazy, I know, but for some reason I just felt like I could trust, despite the lies. Maybe the fact that I could see through him so easily made it seem all the safer to be around him. We talked just like old times, and he sat with rapt attention as I caught him up with the events of my life. I was very happy being with him again, but his past still bothered me; it is not so easy to just forget such cruelty as he had shown.
I was still looking for a way to pose the question to him when I came across something startling in paper. "Thomas Writter, a known Klan member was found dead yesterday in the metro area." An obituary, I read on:
"The body was washed out of storm drains during the recent down pours. Judging by the state of decay, the body is estimated to be at least a week old. Specialists are still trying to determine the precise cause of death, though most are already certain of foul play." I nearly dropped the paper when Tom entered the room behind me. "What is this?" He stares at the paper for a moment and then rubs his beard. "Don't lie to me, I want the truth this time."
"I'm sorry... I meant to find a way to tell you sooner, but I was really enjoying our time together and I didn't want to bring this all down on you until I was sure and..."
"Slow down, and explain to me what this is all about. Are you or are you not Tom?"
"Alright, well, this will sound a little crazy, so you've got to have an open mind."
"Tom, I just found out that you died a weak ago and now your explaining to me why. My mind is plenty open."
"Okay, well, to answer your question, I am Tom, your friend so long ago, but I'm also not Tom, that is, the person he became after that accident. I haven't been able to learn a lot about him, but what I have has caused me great grief. I wasn't even sure you'd be willing to see me after all that he'd put you through."
"He'd... how can you be the same person and yet two different people?"
"To explain that without making you think I'm crazy, I have to tell you about my past."
I sighed. "Say what you have to say."
"Just like Tom, I remember waiting for you at that park on that terrible night, but unlike him, I was not stood up. You came just as planned, but shortly afterwards that gang saw us and advance on us. I told you to run, but you tripped and they caught you. I fought in vain against them and was knocked out for my efforts. I woke up in the hospital, only a bruised brow, but you," he choked slightly, "you were dead. Raped and murdered by those bastards!" None of this made any sense, but I was compelled to listen on as he fought back tears.
"Like Tom, I too had to fight the bitterness and rage I felt towards the world, but something in my memory of you gave me strength, and I was able to look past that one groups cruel deeds. I could not stand for what had happened though, and I vowed I would do something about it yet."
"I devoted my life to the study of science and the pursuit of a way to turn back the cogs of time. After 20 years of research, I finally found a way, using wormholes. The technology wasn't stable, but perfecting it would have taken years. I was anxious, and it was enough; I could make one trip, there and back, as long as I didn't stay there for more than a few minutes."
This all sounded so crazy, but then I remembered. "That man... he said I would thank him. It was you?!"
"Yes, it took careful planning, but I was able to bring myself back to that moment in time, and I succeeded. It has been such a great joy to hear of your life these past few days."
"But what about Tom?"
"The dangerous side effects of time travel... I never would have guessed that my meddling would cause so much trouble. My real mistake, though, was in not realizing that by changing the past I created another version of myself. Thought it has been years for you, it has only been a month since I saved that little girl from certain death.
"When I came back here I began to realize some things about my counter part when some of his unsaviory collegues mistook me for him. I was disgusted by what he had become, but just to make sure, I looked him up and followed him around for a while. Though he was in some ways me, he was only the most terrible and worst parts of myself. I felt no pity for him."
"You killed him!?"
"No, well, I didn't pull the trigger, or poison his drink, or whatever they did to him. Being a man's twin has its advantages. I was able to make such an impression on his good friends that when I started making trouble for them, they plotted his death. I left town soon afterwards to ensure my own safety and came here so that I could see you at last."
And that was his story. No more twitching, just the blunt, honest truth. I had a hard time accepting it for a long time, and I still don't know that I agree with what he did to Tom. But he saved my life, and the more I thought about the way Tom used to be before the attack, the more I realized how much I loved him, and now how much he must have loved me. We married last fall, and I've never been happier.
