Grandeur Delusions

I

Gatsby's mansion loomed over West Egg. Its many windows and pointy roofs made it look like the Hohenzollern Castle in Germany. The mansion was grand but his parties were grander. People from all over New York were brought by cars, hanging out of the windows and open-roofed convertibles. They arrived tipsy and left blacked out. Droves of them were brought in to fill the space. To fill the void called the ballroom.

Nick had never met Gatsby nor been to one of the parties. That was until a cool, summer evening when there was a knock on his door. When he answered, a chauffeur handed him an invitation on a silver platter. Nick had heard from several rumors around town that Gatsby never invited anyone. The people just showed up. The invitation had promoted the mystery surrounding his neighbor.

The days leading up to the party dragged on as Nick tried to contain his excitement... or curiosity. He couldn't decide which one it was that plagued him more. Parties were never his forte, though he went to many when he was younger. Still, he kept a watch over Gatsby's house, watching the fascinating preparation for the party. Massive orders of supplies came in, such as glasses, champagne, fruits, and cooking ingredients. Never once did Gatsby himself step outside to sign for the deliveries. Or at least someone who had any semblance of wealth and opulence. The closest Nick had been to seeing Gatsby was when he thought an older man leaving the house was him. Although shady, he seemed a right fit. The man had yet to return and it had been months so it simply couldn't be him.

There was one almost encounter that Nick didn't consider to be a sight of Mr. Gatsby as it was dark and his back was turned to him. It was nearly ten-thirty at night when he had returned home from his cousin, Daisy Buchanan's, house. Standing out on the dock in front of their houses was a man, staring at the green light emulating from Daisy's house. The only thing that led Nick to believe this was Gatsby was by the way he held himself. He stood with such vigor and rigidness; a sharpness that could cut the night sky open. Only a man with money like Gatsby could stand like that.

The green light sat on that dock long before even Demaine, the oil businessman, owned the house. Daisy had mentioned how much she hated it at their get-together before this one. "It's a sight for sore eyes," she said. Tom, her husband, had nothing to say on the matter. He didn't put much thought into her conversations, having made it clear to Nick he preferred to talk about business, sports, or his own wealth.

By Friday evening, Nick had already gathered his outfit. It wasn't nearly as expensive nor chic as others were wearing but it was his best. When the time for the party came around, he left his house and headed next door. The party sounded as if it had already started, despite the invitation saying it didn't start for another ten minutes. This was when he saw the people. It seemed there were thousands of them. Rich and poor, young and old. Anyone who could afford a flattering outfit seemed to be there, manners tossed aside.

When Nick had gotten inside, he asked around for Gatsby. He wanted to thank the man for inviting him. Everyone he asked looked at him incredulously, like he asked them to do something so impossible, it was unthinkable. No one had an answer. He remained wandering around the party and through the crowds of people until he ended up at the bar, where Jordan Baker found him.

"Nick?" She asks.

He looks at her, "Jordan! And here I thought I was going to be alone for the evening," he smiles. He met Jordan through Daisy. She was a professional golfer.

The woman laughs, "I don't know why I'm surprised you're here. You did say you were Mr. Gatsby's neighbor, after all."

Nick leaned in, "I got an invitation. An actual invitation," he hadn't meant to show off. He was surprised and wanted to know if she received one as well.