The Great Gatsby | A Winrina Story

Glass Flower

The king of The Valley of Ashes is Dr. T.J. Eckleburg, an optometrist who, twenty years before, saw a tremendous advertising opportunity in the Valley, but that never manifested itself. Now, like a face carved on an ancient Mayan glyph, only a fading billboard and his ghostly eyes remain.

The Valley is about halfway between the Eggs and New York City. It is difficult to discuss with people who have seen it, let alone people who haven't. It's where the ashes left from New York City's coal burning are dumped, creating an alien land where everything, even the sky, is gray and covered by a layer of ash. Like the Himalayas, the Valley contains entire ranges of ash mountains, some over 100 feet tall. The people are as featureless as the landscape, the sort of working man and woman that make a bond trader self-conscious about the money he makes and the ease with which it can be taken.

I was going into the city for lunch with Tom Buchanan when he suddenly grabbed me by the arm when the train reached the Valley. "Follow me" he ordered as we raced to make it off the train before it started moving. The next thing I knew, I was standing beside the tracks, a cloud of ash from the train slowly settling on me. Tom was already on his way to a coffee shop across the street.

"What are we doing here, Tom?"

He held the door open. As I passed, he pointed at a beautiful tall woman and said "That's Lisa. I want you to meet her."

"Karina is my cousin, Tom! I can't!"

"It's ok. She knows that once in a while I go off on a spree, but I always come back. She doesn't like it, but she understands that I can't help myself."

Lisa came around the counter and leapt into Tom's arms. She was young, maybe 23, and stunning, even though her clothes were a little revealing for daytime, and her shoulder-length hair was dyed red, but it looked like it was fading fast.

They sat at a small table in the corner, Lisa on Tom's lap. I could tell what men might see in her. She wore lots of makeup and had a big, charismatic smile that eventually made you smile in anticipation of her smiling.

"Hi RJ, I'm Lisa," she said, chewing gum, "I'm sorry because I usually dress a lot classier for work, but I left my clothes outside to dry and the wind covered them in ash."

"I bought you all new clothes, didn't I?" Tom asked.

"And some jewelry," Lisa squealed.

"Nothing but the best for my girl."

"Maybe it'll be 'my wife' soon, once you leave that woman."

"Lisa, 'that woman' is the mother of my children. It just isn't as simple as you think. See what I'm saying, RJ? Women's minds can't be beat when it comes to raising children or dressing pretty, but these bigger issues, societal and financial issues, should be left for men, who are best fashioned for them. Do you agree?"

"Matter of fact, Tom, I do not. Madame Curie, Hypatia, and the Bronte sisters, among others, would disagree, and it isn't a good reflection of the minds of men that you felt that you could give that speech to two women, is it?"

Tom sank back in his chair, and Lisa winked at RJ. "You both know what I mean," Tom said dejectedly. "I'm trying to be complimentary. After all, I supported women getting the vote in 1920, you know."

"He supported women getting the vote as long as their men approved their choices," Lisa explained. She pinched Tom's cheek and said, in a baby voice, "Oh, let's quit picking on Tom."

Suddenly Tom swatted Lisa's hand away so hard that there was an audible smack. An awkward silence followed in the restaurant. Lisa cleared her throat as she rubbed her hand. "Tom you're just a beast, a big, hulking animal."

"You know I hate that word," Tom muttered.

"You mean 'hulking'? Like 'hulking beast,' or 'hulking murderer'?"

"Look, you stupid --"

"That's enough, Tom," I barked. "Let's start over. 'Hi, my name is Ryujin, or RJ.'"

"Well, Ryujin or RJ, it's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Lisa."

Tom rolled his eyes and managed a weak smile. "Ok, ok, I got it. I'm sorry I started off on the wrong foot. Lisa, sweetie," he said, kissing her, "I love you and I'm sorry that I was such a brute."

Slowly Lisa broke into a toothy smile. "Baby, it's ok, really."

"Oh no!" Tom yelled and pointed out the window. A thin young man in dirty, sweat-stained overalls was walking toward the shop.

"Call me!" Lisa whispered as she ran back behind the counter. "Oh, and nice meeting you, what's-your-name."

"It's her husband," Tom groaned.

"Wait -- is he coming here to kill you? Should we -- ?"

"He doesn't know anything," Tom said. The door opened and the young man walked over to their table.

"Mr Buchanan," he said.

"George, how are you?"

"Well, sir, I was wondering if you're ready to sell that car."

"Once my man gets done with it I'll sell it to you."

"Your man takes a long time," George said, forcing a smile.

"Let's go, RJ," Tom commanded. As he passed, he clipped George with his shoulder, one of the bully-boy tactics I'd seen him do in college.

"Awful nice seeing you," George called after us.

. . . . .

Once they reached Manhattan, Tom took me for lunch at the restaurant in the Four Seasons Hotel. Everyone else wore tuxedos, and while I was self-conscious, Tom didn't seem to even notice. It's the way old money behaves, I thought. Doing what they want is such second nature that they don't even notice it.

"What did you think of Lisa, RJ?"

"She seems great, Tom, but she's awfully young."

"Once you get to know her better, you'll see that she's very mature for her age," Tom said.

"I'm not sure I should meet her."

"Why have you got to be difficult?"

"Because I'm Karina's cousin, Tom. How can I go around with you and Lisa and hide it from her?"

"It's not hidden, RJ," Tom said. "Karina knows."

Frustrated, I looked around the restaurant. Even though it was only 1pm on a Thursday, everyone already seemed drunk, laughing too loud, spilling drinks, and dropping silverware. This couldn't last. Every party, even Gatsby's, ends when the sun rises and the fairy dust evaporates. The bill would arrive for a whole generation.

I couldn't understand why I spent time with Tom. He'd been unpleasant at Princeton, and had only gotten more so. I think that at first, it was fun to watch how Tom ignored all social conventions if they interfered with what he wanted. He used to be rude out of ignorance, a lack of interest in people, but it had evolved over the years to his racist beliefs and his notion that people like me and Karina had to be "cured."

Had he cured Karina? On the one hand, I hoped not; on the other, I hoped so, if only for an imaginary love with Gatsby. I'd developed this dream for the two of them in which they spend the rest of their lives together, and they both get the peace they so badly, so obsessively, wanted.

"This place has become infected with new money," Tom sneered.

"It's become infected with alcohol and unearned money," I sighed. "Tom, I don't know where this is all going."

"Then just do what I do," Tom smiled.