Natsby

Chapter Four

What would have been a strenuous clean up was completed before I had awaken the next morning. And a few days after, I threw another party. And another, and another. I found a new home deep within the crowds of people, missing Gatsby all the while.

It was the fiftieth party or so, I had forgotten how many I hosted. They all seemed like one big party. But on that light, warm, early June evening, did a fresh face enter the estate. I hadn't noticed, already slightly tipsy from the alcohol, even when he sat right beside me. "Two of your finest," He requested from the bartender. The drinks were made, and one was slid my way. I eyed it wearily, wondering who actually noticed me for once. The eyes I glanced up at were unmistakable. I gasped and fell out of my seat, eyes wider than they were the day he left.

"Hello, Old Sport," He smiled, holding his hand out to assist me up. "It's good to see you Gatsby," I replied, taking the offer. "Take a walk with me Old Sport? I would like the chance to catch up on this past year," He requested. I nodded, and we meandered towards the gardens, where not a soul would bother us.

"I received your letter," He sighed.

"Yes, I felt the news had to be given as soon as possible."

"Thank you Old Sport. It means a lot."

I looked over to see his eyes brimming with tears as he covered his mouth with a hand. I knew my place, and that was to be his friend. Everyone I met was gone or dead. Everyone except for him. The man who I still couldn't figure out how I felt towards. I pat his shoulder and he moved over, bending just slightly to embrace me as I felt his tear hit my shoulder. I returned the gesture with ferocity, feeling so hurt and just as upset. Although, why tears filled my eyes, was a reason I preferred to keep to myself for the time being.

That night I had the party shut down early, and Gatsby and I sat in his room all night mending his broken heart. We spoke a lot about Daisy, her presence felt but not there. Gatsby truly had feelings for her, that I could tell. I asked him about how things changed between before and after the war, and shared stories of our individual services. "Nick, why did Daisy lie to me?" Gatsby asked abruptly. I was thrown off guard, but recomposed myself. "Honestly Gatsby? I do not think she ever lied," I responded. "I have no doubt that Daisy ever lied about how she felt to you. But, she still felt something for Tom, even if he hurt her. At the end of the day, she did what she felt was best for herself and her child."

Gatsby smiled. "I only saw a photo, but I imagined meeting her little girl and taking her in as my own child. It was silly, I suppose, but I do not feel bad for it in the slightest," He said warmly. "Do you want children, Gatsby?" He laughed at my question. "Of course, Old Sport. I deeply enjoy the concept of having children to care for, a little girl to treat as highly as her mother, and a son to teach the ways of the world. I suppose you would have to come around often, as well. They would love to be with their godfather, after all," He said, off in his own world. "Godfather?" I asked curiously. He turned towards me and grinned. It was a naive look, with his eyes puffy from the tears and tears streaking his face.

"You are the most important person in my life right now, I would want my children to know anyone who is as vital to my life as you have been, Old Sport," He replied. I felt content knowing that I was so important to him. He was the same for myself, after all.

I had awoken early the next morning, noting how he and I had fallen asleep in his room. His cheeks still flushed a light pink, a sign of all the sadness that was bubbled up within him.I snuck out, and called for two men to grab my small amount of possessions so that I could return to my home without disturbing Gatsby while he slept. As I was climbing into the car that would take me home, Gatsby ran out in front of the vehicle, disheveled with his suit wrinkled and his hair sticking out everywhere. The car jerked to a stop, and he came to my door, swinging it wide open.

"Where are you going Old Sport? Not even staying for breakfast?" He asked, slightly out of breath from all the running he clearly did. I looked back on my earlier actions, and felt like the common prostitute as I had treated Gatsby. I shook my head slightly before offering him a small smile. "You know what? Breakfast sounds wonderful." I hopped out of the car and walked by his side up and into Gatsby's home, where I ate breakfast with company for the first time in a long time.

We talked about seemingly inconvenient topics, but it made the world to me to finally have a close friend back home and the ability to no longer be in solitude for many days at a time. It was slightly uncomfortable though, as spending so much time with myself had almost disconnected me from the life that humans were supposed to live - a social one.

I was hardly a savage, I knew to eat with a fork and knife, and all of the basic courtesies of what you should and shouldn't do around others, but the lack of my presence was painfully obvious as Gatsby would talk and I would stare at my eggs in silence.

"You alright Old Sport?" Gatsby asked as we finished our meal, touching his hand on top of my own to catch my attention. Unbeknownst to him, I already had my mind on him.

I looked up and smiled. "Of course, Gatsby. Just a little overwhelmed." He frowned. "Overwhelmed?"

"Do not worry, I am just a little overwhelmed from your return. A lot has happened in the last twenty-four hours after all," I explained. He seemed to relax,and things were left at that.