The Green Light

Chapter 4

After a brief shower and change of clothes, I sat with my companion; the tea was still hot.

Tea with Mr. Gatsby had slowly become an activity of mine that I cherished a great deal. There was something so tranquil about existing in the same room as him; something so warm about his presence. It definitely helped while I was recovering from the ordeal months before.

Not much later, I felt the fogginess begin to fade and I began to realise:
I would gladly spend hours sitting with Gatsby and not even consider leaving the room for one moment. I would rather spend my time with him alone than drink and dance and sway at any sort of party where I would wake up the next morning confused as to what happened.

"Do you enjoy the parties, Mr. Gatsby?"
I asked. 'What a stupid question'  I thought to myself. It was safe to say I was incredibly surprised when my words were met with a brief moment of silence. Gatsby sat there, fidgeting with his cane. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared down at my feet, deep in thought. It was only after he'd once again reached over, picked up his tea cup, taken a sip and placed it back down that he drew in a deep breath and we locked eyes again. His lips parted, but no words left his mouth.

"I apologise if I've offended you. That wasn't my intention at all."
I stammered, concerned. Oh lord. Why I had thought that was a good thing to say was a complete mystery to me. In my head, I could just hear him saying the words 'did you not enjoy it, Old Sport?'. I felt a weight on my chest.

"No, no!"
Finally, he spoke again.
"No, Old Sport, I'm just surprised. Nobody has asked me that before and - well - I've been asked my fair share of difficult questions. Usually I know the answers... This is the first difficult question that I've been lost on. How to explain... how to explain..."

He pondered. I found myself staring at my friend as he began to explain.
"I do... and I don't."

Now what in the world does that mean?  The voice in my head asked.
"What?"
"I don't enjoy the drunkeness. I don't enjoy the noise. I don't enjoy the pressure of having to have the party go well."

What a selfless man... I had an inkling that Gatsby didn't enjoy the parties as much as the partygoers themselves, but to hear how many aspects of it he truly disliked? It was a shock that a man could do so much just to lure a long lost love back into his arms.

"You said you also enjoy it... That just sounds like you dispise them."
I hummed, folding my arms

"No, you're quite wrong. There are still things I enjoy about them, definately. Humans are social creatures, of course we enjoy parties Old Sport. We only enjoy them to different degrees. It's a spectrum."

"You still haven't told me what you enjoy about them... Where do you lie on that 'spectrum'?"

"I enjoy planning them. I enjoy everybody's reaction. I enjoy not having an empty house. I enjoy having you there."

I could feel myself lose grip of reality for a split second. Jay Gatsby enjoyed having me at his parties and he had just admitted to the fact. I felt odd. I felt my heart pound and my chest tighten. I felt my palms become slightly more damp. Sweaty.

"It was a wonderful party."
I uttered after another pause, changing the subject.

"Thank you, Old Sport."
He smiled back at me.
"It was all for you. You saved my life after all."

"I did, didn't I... I wonder what would have happened otherwise."

I could see Gatsby cringe, grasping the tea cup yet again.
"I hate to think of it, Old Sport. I'd much rather keep my mind on the present fact of you being alright."

There wasn't any doubt in my mind that Gatbsy cared about me. He truly was my closest friend.

"Though I'm still awfully sorry you got hurt on my account."

"Now what on Earth are you talking about? I wouldn't have it any other way! Gatsby, there will come a day where you realise that you are deserving of acts of valour. You really are far too modest; it'll be the death of you."

That smile. That smile always spoke over a thousand words to me. That smile said more than a sentence ever could - and in that moment, I knew that what I was saying was right. He didn't even speak.

"Exactly."
I hummed contently through a smug smirk, my lips curling up ever so slightly at the edges.

"Your issue Gatsby,"
I sat forward, adjusting my bow tie a tad,
"is that you believe you're capable of more than enough. However, you still belittle yourself to the point where you don't think you deserve to reach that potential."

He chuckled in responce... This had been more obvious with him since Daisy had been out of the picture. His confidence had slipped. He poured himself some more tea and then (in contrast to my leaning towards him) he sat back as he took a sip.
"Maybe parties aren't exactly your idea of valuble sociolisation."

He'd seen right through me, I could tell. No, I was not much of a party animal. I had only been drunk a handful of times in my life and not a single time did it end well. The next morning was always hell and losing the ability to remember anything was just as awful. My expression must have spoken to my friend, as he also began to smirk - and with a wink...

"Come over. We'll have dinner."

Time froze in that moment. I did not know what was coming over me. Gatsby always had a sort of glint in his eye - a look on his face that was just so welcoming. Usually I would hesitate at such an invitation- but coming from him. That was different. He was different.

I must have been staring for a moment too long, as Gatsby was still staring at me when I came back to my senses.

"How about it?"
He asked with that same old calm tone in his voice.

"When would you like me?"
I replied.

"Whatever time suits you, Old Sport."