Michael Mccarter's Short Story

Burke illustrates Tom’s inner conflict with first-person narration. The guilt he feels over the inactivity he had on the night of the incident, his frustration with Kylie and the added guilt he exhibits because he feels sorry for himself all adds up to his conflicted thoughts. Tom doesn’t know or feel like himself anymore. But Burke brings this to the attention of the reader in a good light when Tom thinks, “But now I knew what I missed most. I missed me, Tom Brennan, and that’s why now I could smile, ‘cause I could see he was coming back.” Thus, when J.C. Burke aptly finishes the book with the line “that was the morning Tom Brennan came back, forever,” the true development in Tom’s character and conflict is shown through the employment of first-person narration. Therefore, J.C. Burke thoroughly addressed the conflict in Tom’s mind as it was overcome in the

“Tom was not supposed to be killed, he had to be captured, you better hope he doesn't die!” yelled a U.S. police officer. During all the chaos Tom was being lifted into the ambulance, with the paramedics checking for any signs of life. The ambulance takes off speeding to the hospital while blinding onlookers with flashing lights. Tom was rushed to the operating room instantly, the hospital staff worked tirelessly trying to bring him back to life. Unfortunately, the doctor declared that Tom probably died the instant the bullet put an unrepairable hole, the size of a dime, in his heart.

With a weary grunt, Booker shifted the bag of groceries in his arms and kicked his apartment door closed with his foot. He had planned to be home early so he take Tom out to dinner as a birthday surprise, but as usual, work had ruined his plans. When he had rung Tom and explained that he would be home late, he had expected him to react moodily, but instead, he had received a sympathetic response. It was a sign that their relationship was now on stable footing. Tom was more open about his feelings, and they argued less about the trivialities of everyday life; they were moving forward.

When Booker pushed open the warehouse door the following morning, he found the derelict space empty. Confused, he glanced at his watch. At just past quarter to eight, Tom was late, and the dark-haired officer couldn’t help but wonder if he would show up at all. His harsh words the previous night had obviously impacted negatively on his friend, however, he still wasn’t sure what he could say to take the hurt away. He wasn’t proud of his actions, and he deeply regretted his disparaging remarks, especially because his target was a man who lacked confidence. After their altercation, he’d sought solitude in a bottle of whiskey, but his guilt had only escalated as he struggled to make sense of his feelings. It was then he had started to wonder if he really was a bully who got off on other people’s pain.

Even though he is from a progeny of a First Family of Virginia, Tom is no gentleman. He commits many sins such as lying, stealing, and killing. Even though his reputation is tarnished, the town continues to trust him. When Tom claimed that “there isn’t any such knife” (168), the town believed him. They trusted his judgment even though he did not have a truthful reputation.

Arriving back at his apartment, Booker found Tom curled on the couch, his gaunt face a mask of misery. Dressed in ill-fitting sweats, the borrowed clothing swamped his slender frame, giving him the appearance of someone much younger than his twenty-five years. There was a bucket next to the couch that smelled faintly of vomit and Booker averted his eyes, unable to stomach the sight of the foul smelling liquid. His lower body ached, and all he wanted to do was take a hot shower and go to bed. For the first time since Tom’s arrival, he was aware of the enormity of what he was taking on. He could say goodbye to his carefree bachelor’s life, he was now responsible for a sick and emotionally damaged

“I saw them in Santa Barbara when they came back, and I thought I’d never seen a girl so mad about her husband. If he left the room for a minute she’d look around uneasily, and say: “Where’s Tom gone?” and wear the most abstracted expression until she saw him coming in the door. She used to sit on the sand with his head in her lap by the hour, rubbing her fingers over his eyes and looking at him with unfathomable delight. It was touching to see them together — it made you laugh in a hushed, fascinated way. That was in August. A week after I left Santa Barbara Tom ran into a wagon on the Ventura road one night, and ripped a front wheel off his car. The girl who was with him got into the papers, too, because her arm was broken

Tom’s expression became pensive before his lower lip pushed into a soft, enticing pout and lifting his gaze slightly, he peered solemnly up at Booker through his long, thick lashes. “I have trouble trusting people,” he confessed softly, his dark eyes shimmering with emotion. “But I do trust you. I’m lonely, Dennis. I had no real human contact for six months and then you showed up. It was terrifying, but suddenly, there was someone who had belief in me and didn’t just see a disabled ex-con. You made me want to be Tom Hanson again and that’s why I stopped taking my meds; I didn’t want to be that fucked up zombie anymore. But I crave more… I need more. There’s something between us and I can’t live here pretending there’s not. I know we can’t be intimate, but there’s nothing wrong with hugging and kissing, is there? I mean, we’re friends, right? We can do that as friends… can’t we?”

| Tom wants his old life back prior to the accident and he sees the accident as the end of his life as he knew it. He loses his sense of identity and sense of family in particular.Feels guilty and ashamed about the irrevocable consequences his brother’s irresponsibility had for other people and their familiesRetreats into a depressed state which feels empty and black.

No more Tom Ripley than Dickie Greenleaf, he returned to New York City behind a confused veil of anonymity. Occasionally, a sharp memory would point its way to the forefront of Ripley’s mind for just a moment: a moment that lasted just long enough for the piercing thought to puncture his brain. Guilt had Ripley in a stranglehold, periodically loosening its grip to allow fear to take over. Caught in a downward spiral that disguised itself as an endless loop, Ripley found himself regretting decisions he hadn’t yet made. Enough trauma came about on the trip back to New York: twenty-four-hour cycles comprising mental re-enactments of Peter’s death, staring at blank walls, and wondering how many extra murders it would take to cover the previous ones up. Ripley could never progress while brooding in a sombre cabin without so much as even a smirched window for a glimmer of light, let alone solve his problems entirely.

This shows the reader that Tom still believes in his own violent system of justice. Instead of coming up with a peaceful way to leave, Tom immediately thinks of a violent way to stop the police even if it might lead to him going to jail. Tom until the near end of the novel is a very violent and careless person.

Tom never does anything without doing it to the fullest, good or bad. Tom has an overall extremely short temper, assertive,confident and aggressive nature. Tom’s wild, emotional, and uncaring attitude end up getting three people killed. Tom in the end is ultimately concerned with himself and his lavished ,intense, and high paced

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