Gatsby, The Great & Powerful

Chapter Four

Gatsby's house was somehow even more spectacular up close. The countless towers soared skyward, and the mass of the edifice was both sprawling and lofty. Between the foliage, climbing vines, and the green lights from the East Egg docks, it appeared as a shimmering emerald palace. Breathtaking. And intimidating.

Tom insisted on parking the car himself, in spite of the ready and willing valet. He let me, Daisy, and Jordan off at the massive double doors.

Daisy smoothed her hair and rang the doorbell. She then took the liberty of straightening my collar.

"You're just darling, Nicky," Daisy told me. "Gatsby will adore you."

Before I could respond, one of the doors swung open to reveal a stern man with gray hair and a steely gaze. He donned the black suit and rigid posture of a venerable butler.

"Who rang that bell?" he demanded.

Jordan, Daisy, and I exchanged glances. "We did," we chorused.

"There's no party tonight," the butler informed us. He glared at each of us in turn. "Come back tomor--"

When his narrowed eyes fell upon Daisy, he cut himself off.

"Mrs. Buchanan!" he exclaimed. There was an immediate metamorphosis to his expression and tone. "Forgive me. We weren't expecting you. Mr. Gatsby will be so pleased. Do come in."

Daisy smiled and the three of us followed the butler into the two-story atrium and through several subsequent expanses of opulent space.

Reaching the back of the manor, we emerged onto a spacious marble patio. Down a set of wide white steps was the most grandiose swimming pool I'd seen in my thirty years.

Beyond the pool, facing the bay, stood a tall man in a beautiful suit.

"Mr. Gatsby, sir," the butler announced. "You have guests."

The man in the suit turned around. He smoothed his pressed collar with a manicured hand. The wide, pristine grin he flashed could have stopped traffic and hearts. His cufflinks sparkled and his eyes radiated warmth.

"Jay," Daisy murmured.

"Daisy," Gatsby said. His expression turned wistful as he made his way over to us. "I'm certainly glad to see you again. What brings you here?"

"We've come to ask for your help," Daisy stated. She took my arm and pulled me forward. "This is Nick Carraway. He found himself stranded when his hot air balloon acquired a tear. He needs a way home."

"Home is where the heart is," Gatsby remarked. His eyes glittered as he looked at me. "Isn't that right, old sport?"

I stammered in agreement and bobbed my head.

"Speaking of 'hearts'," Daisy continued, "Jordan needs to find hers. You remember Jordan Baker, don't you, Jay?"

"Fondly," Gatsby said, flashing his debonair smile. "Home for Nick, a heart for Miss Baker. And for you, Daisy?"

"I need--"

"Daisy needs to get her mind off of you!" Tom roared.

He appeared behind Daisy, eyes blazing, and clamped his hands on her shoulders. Whether this was a protective or possessive gesture, I couldn't say.

"Now see here, old sport--" Gatsby began.

"Shut your yap!" Tom ordered. "You're a con artist, Gatsby! A crook! All of this fanfare is smoke and mirrors. Underneath the wealth, you're nothing but a filthy opium dealer. Yet you have the audacity to carry on with another man's wife!"

"An 'audacity' that you and I share, apparently," Gatsby stated.

Tom sputtered several incoherent syllables. His face turned an unnatural shade of red.

"Is it true, Jay?" Daisy asked. She crossed her arms and fixed him with a laden stare. "The opium. Is it true? Please, I have to know."

A shadow passed over Gatsby's face. His eyes shone with regret, as though he knew he was about to lose something irreplaceable. "It is," he admitted. "Yes."

Daisy closed her eyes and looked away.

My jaw slackened. I glanced at Jordan, but she stood frozen, a statue once again.

"Ah-ha!" Tom exclaimed, triumphant.

"Hush, Tom," Daisy scolded. "You are far from blameless. All three of us are guilty."

"You don't love Daisy," Gatsby said to Tom. "Not like I do."

"The hell I don't!" Tom bellowed. "Sure, once in a while I go off on a spree and make a fool of myself, but I always come back. I come back because those others mean nothing." He clasped his wife's hand. "It's Daisy that I love."

"But do you, Tom?" Daisy asked. "Do you really? Words aren't enough. I require proof. A true show of courage."

Tom shrugged, helpless. "What can I do?"

"It's simple," Daisy said. She looked her husband square in the eye. "No more Myrtle, no more affairs, no more apartment in the city. You choose me, only me, or we're finished."

Tom glared in Gatsby's direction. "Fidelity works both ways, Daisy."

"I agree," she said. "Therefore, if you give up your harem for me, I'll give up Gatsby for you."

"Daisy, wait--" Gatsby interjected.

Daisy held up her hand, silencing his protest.

"Do you mean it?" Tom asked.

"I do," she vowed.

"Daisy," Gatsby pleaded. His brow was pinched in fret. "The opium production is a means to an end. I have no intention of partaking longterm. Please!"

It was in that moment that I saw him. Not Gatsby, the 'Great and Powerful,' but the man behind the curtain. Vulnerable. Fallible. Human.

"It's not only that, Jay," Daisy said. She turned toward him and rested her hand on his cheek. "You are a wonderful, beautiful distraction. But I have to use my brain for something other than daydreams. I have to be wise. Wisdom isn't selfish or naive - it's about doing what's right. I adore you. But Tom is my husband."

She stepped away.

Gatsby shook his head and reached for her, but I stayed his hand.

"You must let it be, Mr. Gatsby," I said. "Think on it: if you were Daisy's husband, wouldn't you want to make amends? Wouldn't you want the opportunity to earn a second chance?"

"I-" Gatsby stared at me for several long beats. I could see in his pained eyes that he was contemplating my words. At last, he continued: "Yes, I would. Well said, old sport." Turning back to Daisy, he cleared his throat and took a shaky breath. "All I've ever wanted is your happiness. I'll accept it however it comes."

"Thank you, Jay," Daisy whispered.

"Do you think we could take a short stroll and talk?" Tom asked his wife. "Just the two of us?"

"I'd like that," Daisy agreed.

Hands almost touching, the pair descended the stairs that led to the shore. Watching them go, I found myself within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.

Gatsby's weighted stare followed the couple as they moved further out of reach. "Are you sure you want a heart, Miss Baker?" he asked. "Most hearts are destined to be broken."

"I think it's safe to say she already has one," I said, motioning to Jordan. "Look."

Gatsby turned his head athwart.

A single tear snaked down Jordan's cheek.

"That was a magnanimous thing you did, Mr. Gatsby," Jordan murmured. She smoothed the tear away and beamed at him. "Tell me, do you have plans for dinner?"

Gatsby smiled. The earnest smile of a man experiencing unexpected delight. "I do not, Miss Baker," he replied. "Let me get Nick safely on his way home, then I'm all yours."

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