To blame everything on his parents would be over-simplifying things. But if you were to trace things back to the beginning, you would see that it began with them.
Tom's parents believed in fairness and a sense of reality. They didn't believe in giving their children an unrealistic view of the world. But they would take care to point out that these two aspects could, at times, be at odds with each other. Reality wouldn't always be fair, but Tom would have to find a way of coming to terms with that.
Tom was like any other boy his age; he enjoyed the same games, had the same likes and hates, sometimes got into fights and got on with some teachers better than with others. He must have been around eight or ten years old when there was a new boy at his school. Their class teacher asked the class to do all they could to make William feel welcome. As this was said, Tom turned around to look at the new boy and stared for a moment, mesmerised by the boy's Nordic looks.
Tom had already started looking at girls, being an early developer with a clear attraction to the opposite sex. One of the things that fascinated him about girls was the contrast between boys and girls; between men and women. He saw the boys in the years above him starting to get hair on their arms and legs while their voices broke and their muscles developed. He saw the girls going through other developments, including the ones that required extra instruction in girls-only classes. Tom always assumed that it was these differences that created the fascination between the two sexes, leading to the attraction that formed bonds that were strong enough to create new people, just as his parents had created him. He watched his own fascination with the female body as though he were an onlooker and put together simple, childlike rules in his mind: the contrast of day and night were what caused them to chase each other, creating the ongoing cycle that we called time. The same was true of the four seasons, of school lessons and playtime, of school-time and hometime, of being awake or asleep.
As Tom stared at William, he saw the same contrast. Tom was a handsome boy, as was William. But William had very blond hair and very blue eyes while Tom was black. The thought went through Tom's mind that William was day and Tom was night, and that one couldn't exist without the other. He remembered the difference between the sexes and frowned; William was very clearly a boy, a very boyish boy and a boy who the girls would be sure to chase, just as they chased Tom. But for Tom there was something that linked all of the examples in his mind of the two camps that faced each other. Tom and William were like day and night, but they also had a way of being like boy and girl, even though they were both boys. Tom wasn't attracted to William the way he found himself sexually attracted towards some of the girls, but he felt drawn towards how different he was. William made Tom feel very black. If they held hands and entwined their fingers, you could tell at a glance which fingers belonged to which boy. Tom wanted to try that out, just as he liked trying out new things with his toys at home.
When the first period was over, the class went out into the playground. Tom looked for William. He had decided to make friends with him before anyone else could. He wanted him to himself and would then decide if he wanted to share him with the other boys.
He saw William standing at the edge of the playground, watching the other boys play. Some girls were nearby, looking towards William and giggling. Tom strode up to William.
"I've got a ball. Want to play?"
William looked at him warily and took a step back.
"No."
"Why?"
"You're black."
Tom's parents had warned him about this, but it was the first time it actually happened to him. They had also told him that it was okay to fight it as long as he didn't resort to violence. But William's answer, along with his physical reaction, shocked, angered and hurt Tom on a number of levels. Tom knew that he somehow wanted William, maybe even wanted him to himself. He had already started putting together their friendship in his mind. They would be blood brothers, they would share secrets, share their toys, share everything. Tom would defend William; protect him from anything that could happen to him. They would have sleepovers, and Tom would ask his parents if William could go on holiday with them.
In a matter of seconds, William demolished Tom's new world. Tom wanted to cry and probably would have done just that up until that day. But the instinct that made him want to protect William also caused him to hide the fact that he was hurt. Instead, he drew his hand back and hit William across the face, knocking him to the ground. William started to cry, and this was when Tom started to cry. It was the first time that he hurt someone else and hurt himself in the process.
Everyone saw Tom hit William and knock him to the ground. No one heard what William had said to Tom. Both boys were cited to the Head Teacher's office. When asked to explain his behaviour, Tom told the Head Teacher that William refused to play with him because he was black. William denied this, and Tom sprang up out of his seat, ready to hit William again. The Head Teacher shouted for Tom to sit down, but he sensed in both boys' reactions that it was William who wasn't telling the truth. There just wasn't much he could do without witnesses.
"William, you will never, EVER say that kind of thing... ever again."
"I didn't!" William protested.
"Enough, William! Just remember – NEVER." He then turned his attention to Tom. "And you, young man, will learn to handle your conflicts with words and not by hitting people, whatever they say to you. Look at William. You can still see the redness on the side of his face where you slapped him."
Tom turned to look at William and found himself fascinated for the second time by the slap mark he had put on William's face. When William had fallen to the ground in the playground, Tom had started to cry but stopped suddenly when he saw the red mark. He had started crying because it hurt him to hurt William, but the fact that he could put a red mark on the boy's white face and that William couldn't do the same to him was quite arresting. It was the contrast again; more of the night-and-day thing: Tom knew that people could slap his face a hundred times without leaving any marks. William was a white boy, and you only needed to hit him once to create a mark... to leave your mark. Tom had left his mark on William, and there was nothing William could do about that. It reminded him of how men made babies grow in women while they couldn't grow in men.
Tom and William were made to apologise to each other in the Head Teacher's office and to shake hands, but only because they had to. Tom's parents were called into school to be told what had happened. When they all arrived home, there were strong words from Tom's parents. Tom explained what had happened and what William had said. His parents looked at each other and swallowed before repeating what the Head Teacher had said and what they had told him: no violence.
"Listen, son..." his dad began, "...this will happen. There are ways to fight it and make it better, but that won't always work. Some people think the world is flat, and nothing will make them see the truth. But be sure of one thing: if you get violent, the problem will only get worse. Much worse. Not just for you, but also for other black people. Your mother and I didn't get where we are today with good jobs and a comfortable house by hitting people. We got here by not hitting people."
This made sense to Tom. He remembered the thoughts he had had whilst staring at William in the classroom, about the world he had put together before William ended it for him. There was no one to hit now, only the best people he had in his world. He started to cry.
"But I wanted to be his best friend," he sobbed. "And I wanted him to be mine."
This put his parents to the test; they fought back their tears as they took their son in their arms, telling him that there would be plenty of other best friends. His dad then lifted him up and put him on his lap.
"If a boy chooses his friends because they have the right or the wrong skin colour... is that who you would want to be best friends with?"
Tom remembered his fascination with the boy's looks; with the colour of his skin, eyes, hair; with the fact that he could leave a mark on William's boy by hitting him and that William couldn't do that to him.
"I know. But it wasn't just his skin colour. It was his hair and eyes."
This took his parents aback and they both frowned at each other. They hadn't been sure how Tom would answer, but they certainly weren't expecting this. His mother leaned in towards her son as he sat sobbing on her husband's lap:
"That's why you wanted to be friends with him?"
This was when Tom realised that they had been talking about William, not him.
"No. Well... yes, but no." Tom hurried to find an answer that was close enough to the truth. "He was new. I could only see colours, nothing else. He was different. But I can only see what he's like if we're friends. So I wanted to be best friends and see what all of him is like. He was new. I didn't know what he was like. And I wanted to know."
This answer satisfied his parents.
"Alright," his mother said gently. "William has no idea what he is missing out on. But I don't think you're missing much."
"But I wanted to have him!"
"Listen," his dad said, turning the boy on his lap to look at him. This is when the sentence fell, the sentence with which it all began, the sentence that would change not only Tom's life but the lives of countless white men: "Tom, you will have to learn something every important in life and something that you will have to remember as long as you live. You cannot have what you want, when you want, how you want. And you can't always have who you want, either."
The issue ended there, at least for Tom's parents. But as Tom sat at the dining-room table doing his homework, he remembered the superheroes in the comics he read and the countless stories about people making their dreams come true. Some of them were stories about real people. He remembered stories about witches and wizards, about magic wands, about strong people, about people who could change what other people think. He remembered something his parents had said to him a few times that went something like `Where Will is, there's a way'. He knew that this was about making your dreams come true and that it wasn't about William. But as he sat there, looking at his multiplication tables, he thought to himself: Why can't I have what I want when I want? And why can't I have who I want when I want? Maybe I just need to make it happen.
And thus began quest for Tom. It wasn't what his parents had intended, but Tom's main hobby from that point on was a secret one. It became a science that never left him. He would look for ways, ways for him to have his way. Sometimes he would make other people think that it was what they wanted, sometimes he would take pleasure in making the people watch as he forced them to act against their own wishes.
William stayed in Tom's class. As both boys grew, William remained the focus of Tom's attention, unbeknown to William. Tom called him Will in his head, and despite learning the correct form of the phrase Where there's a will, there's a way', Tom preferred to stick to his own version: Where there's Will, there's a way' or even: `Where there's Will, I'll have my way'.
Tom was a strong boy. He came from a good home, so he got good to excellent marks in all subjects but also excelled in sports. As he entered puberty, he had considered showing a disinterest in physical education in order to counter stereotypes about black boys. He would do all he could to make sure he was never treated unfairly because of being black. But his ongoing plan to `show Will his will' led him to aim to be the best, which he soon was. Before long, Will was looking up to him, envious of Tom's athletic achievements and his early development. Will knew that there was no sport he could beat Tom at and avoided any direct competition in order to save face. Will knew that he attracted the girls, but only as long as Tom was out of sight. He knew that he was good at sports, but only until compared to Tom. Will soon forgot his initial thoughts on black and white. He saw Tom as someone the girls chased, someone who was clever, top in most subjects and even funny. When he saw Tom naked in the changing rooms, he felt intimidated by the black boy's manhood and looked away. He didn't notice that Tom was doing all he could to make sure that Will saw how well-endowed he was. It also seemed to Will that Tom was nice; that he was funny, popular, sometimes even a ringleader. But he always seemed to ignore Will. With no memory of the playground incident on his first day, Will soon realised that he would have chosen Tom as his best friend if he had been given the choice, but he was sure that Tom didn't know he existed. He couldn't have been further from the truth.
This is my first attempt at submitting a story to Nifty. I am very, very keen to receive any feedback (positive, negative, etc.) concerning the story. Please contact me at the email address at the top of this page.