To the Depths of My Heart

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The ocean was his second home, though, arguably, could've been his first. While Tom's birth certificate listed Los Angeles as his birthplace, it was never where he was from. His parents were young when he was born, children themselves, really, and separated while he was still an infant. While he never knew much about his father, save a name and a crumpled snapshot his mother saved for him, his mother was an absentee parent. She drifted in and out of his days like a feather in the wind. It always seemed strange to him, that they should have that sort of a relationship, given the fact that, shortly after his father left, she'd run off to Hawaii with another man, her baby boy in tow.

Of course, there was no solid father-figure in his life. His mother changed men almost as often as she changed shoes. His life was in a constant flux as far back as he could remember. When she was present, she was a wonderful mother, doting on him, playing games, teaching him, fostering in him a love of books. However, as an infant, she would often disappear for days at a time, leaving him the care of a neighbor, who was kind enough to see that he needed someone, anyone to take care of him. Once Tom started school, he became a latchkey kid, often letting himself into their studio apartment with a key kept on a cord around his neck, fending for himself by foraging food from their pantry and borrowing from neighbors as needed. In his times alone, he found himself drawn to the books his mother lovingly stocked on the bookshelf and would lose himself in the exploits of great adventurers like Robinson Crusoe.

As a teen, Tom was the pride of his high school's track team, garnering Captain status almost immediately upon joining. His lithe form was aerodynamic and he developed strong legs from running great distances. He was also popular with both male and female students alike, jovial, likable, good-looking. He had blond curls that he kept cropped close, ocean-blue eyes that made everything he said entirely believable, and a grin that brightened up any room. His penchant for mischief was never a problem because he would charm his way out of anything and everything, always with a glowing smile.

It was because of his affable nature that Tom was recruited by some of the older boys to help as they visited some of the local shops. While he was talking up the cashier, keeping them entertained with funny stories, asking questions, giving sincere feedback on the merchandise, his friends would be stuffing whatever they could get their hands on into their backpacks. He would always arrive at the store first and leave last, usually giving the impression that he didn't know them. It was a ruse that worked like a charm, though, and when anyone needed anything, it was Tom's gang they sought out. They sold the items for discount and thought of themselves as a modern-day Robin Hood gang.

While the boys expected their racket would keep up for some time, they didn't expect it to end for Tom as it did. One day, they were casing a local surf shop. Tom was chatting up the rotund man behind the counter, asking about things like surf wax and wet suits as his friends collected their booty when the man stopped him, jumped over the counter, a feat that impressed Tom given that he was such a porcine man, and began chasing after the escaping hoodlums, yelling in a combination of English broken with native Hawaiian. Tom was too stunned to move at the moment and, by the time he thought to retreat, his exit was blocked by the man's barrel chest. The man leered at him, his eyes reading Tom like a book. "They friends of yours, haole?" he asked.

Tom could only shake his head. It was the one time in his life when he could say nothing. As he searched for his words, he began to sweat. This was one incident where he knew he couldn't talk himself out of. "No...I..." he stuttered.

The man clapped his meaty hand onto Tom's bony shoulder. "You should be more careful with who your friends are," he said. As he stepped back, he regarded Tom, his eyes scanning everything. "You look like a good kid, so I'll make you a deal."

"What?" Tom asked. He wasn't sure what he expected, only that the man had kind eyes and wisdom that could only come from leading a hard life. That was something Tom recognized in him, immediately – a kindred spirit.