Work Text:
Jay Gatsby was a man that was the cause for many rumors at drunken parties. There were the basic tales that everyone who had ever even stepped foot in West Egg had heard: He was a German spy, he had dealings with the mob, that sort of affair. But if you pushed past this first layer of Gatsby lore you would hear things that were only whispered in the corners of the man’s extravagant parties as though he might materialize right then and there and strike down with a vengeance those saying such words about him. I myself have not heard any of these sorts of whispers because I have had no reason to go looking for them. You see, I already knew the truth of Jay Gatsby and had for quite a while.
And what’s funny now a I look back upon my life all these years later that with all the outlandish falsities being spread about Gatsby not one ever got close to the salacious scandalous truth.
My full discovery of this truth began during that fateful summer of which me and Gatsby first met. The whole affair with him and Daisy had seemingly ended itself in a none too pleasant way and I had taken it upon myself to go check on my neighbor before I took on my daily trek into the city.
Gatsby’s Butler was the one to answer the door when I knocked without saying a single word. The man simply turned on his heel and stalked back into the house with the implicit message that I should follow. We met the man of the house in his bedroom where he sat on a chaise lounge at the foot of his bed gazing sorrowfully out at the Sound.
“Come on now Gatsby,” I said clapping a hand onto his shoulder, “I thought you were done with this habit of yours,”
He did not turn to face me but from where I was standing I could see a small smile spread across his face, “It is not as you think Old Sport. I am simply taking in this incredible view.”
I sat down beside him, “An incredible view that you have seen a thousand times before?”
He sighed as he finally pulled his gaze away from the window, “I’m a creature of habit Old Sport, my head knows that Daisy will forever be unavailable to me but my heart may never come to that realization.”
At that moment I felt truly terrible for him. He fell in love as a young boy and now that had led him only to a world of heartbreak, “You’ll recover, you’ll see. With all the young girls that stumble through your door surely one of them will satisfy you,”
“Satisfy maybe,” he said with a bitter laugh, “But there’s more to it than being satisfied, Old Sport. I loved Daisy in a way I don’t think I can ever love anyone ever again. It was the kind of love you only give to one person in your lifetime. You hope you’ve chosen right and they handle your love with care but clearly I was blind.”
“You can’t truly believe you’ll never love again?”
“Can’t I, Old Sport?” His gaze returned to the window, “These past five years Daisy has been everything that I am. She has been the reason I wake up every day, the reason I breathe. And now I’ve finally found her but she has refused me in the worst way imaginable.”
“But you have faced such things before, Jay.” I cannot say seeing my friend like this was not alarming. Gatsby was the most hopeful person I had ever met or would ever meet. For reasons that eluded me at the time I desperately wanted him to recover from this.
“Maybe I have but that Gatsby has long ago left. He left with Daisy and I am all that remains,”
“I don’t believe it. You’ll see this time next year the name Daisy Buchanan will only be a footnote in a tale of your many triumphs,”
He turned that smile to me that never failed to catch the breath in the back of my throat, “You’ve always been kind to me Nick,”
I took a sip from my glass trying and failing to hide the inevitable redness growing into my cheeks, “No kinder than any other decent human being would be,”
“Then I suppose I’ve only met one decent human being in my lifetime. Don’t try to deny it Old Sport, your the only person who has not spent your days spreading horrible stories about my past and of all the people that have taken from my cup in my greatest hour of need you are the only soul here,”
“That’s because you surround yourself with these sort of careless people who smash up things and then retreat back into their money”
Gatsby laughed a the sound was like a warm summer breeze over a midwestern field, “That’s quite a fine phrase Old Sport,”
I shrugged and retreated back into my chair. I wasn't too keen on divulging this story to someone who didn’t already know it. “There was A time where I pictured myself like Hemingway,”
“And yet you sell bonds? You know Old Sort I do have a connection with the publishers downtown-”
“No thank you,” I had grown used to waving away Gatsby’s “favors” which had increased in there proclamation as all this business with Daisy had heated up , “I’d much rather continue to support myself in the business now than starve on the hopes that this new generation will somehow regain a love of literature,”
“If money is the issue Old Sport I could always-”
“It’s alright Jay. Your money is your money and I want you to enjoy it,” I also did not trust that handling his money would land me in a jail cell for one reason or another.
“I haven’t been doing much enjoying of it lately,” He lamented, “ The summer has nearly ended and I’ve yet to use that damn swimming pool once,”
“That’s probably for the best,” I said as I thought of all the scandalous acts I had seen performed in those waters during those weekend parties.
He then leaned away from the window and turned to me so that our faces were merely inches apart, “I just wish there was a way to distract myself in a way that mattered. I could drink this place dry and she’d still be my thought.”
I tried to focus on his words but with him right there I found I was given a chance to look at him closer than ever before. That smile of eternal reassurance was even more enchanting when it was given no room to breathe, it was as if the distance diluted its effect but now I faced it head on. With this new vantage point of my friend I came to the conclusion I had been circling for the past few weeks like the last of the bath water going down a drain. Gatsby was wonderful and I was impossibly in love with him
Without a thought in my mind I leaned forward and kissed him. I kissed Gatsby. He almost immediately drew away and blinked at me with those blue eyes that contained oceans. Now as anyone may know I realistically should have been running for the door but I didn't fear Gatsby, I couldn’t bring myself too. Being around him inhibited all my reasonable senses as though I had taken a drink from an expensive wine.
Then within the span of a sparrow's breath he leaned forward and kissed me . I melted into him and we moved with the same ebb and flow as waves against a shore.
I now reckoned back to my handful of kisses that I had exchanged with Jordan Baker. At the time I had relegated myself to the belief that I simply was not privy to the delights of love but now I saw that maybe I had spent the first twenty five years of my life looking for the wrong answer to the wrong question.
At some point he had pulled me toward him and the momentum of it all pulled us down to the floor. Gatsby pulled away, “Nick,” he whispered as he touched my face with the same caution awarded to one's most prized possession.
“Gatsby,” I say. His body is pressed against mine and I can feel each breath he takes. Every part of him brings a welcomed warmth. I would expect nothing less from Gatsby
He laughs and the sound is rich and full of life just like him, “Well this was a brilliant way to distract me, Old Sport.”
“I live to please,” I say, then grab him by his collar and pull him into another kiss.