Lost Memories - The Great Gatsby Alternate Ending

The Green Light

      I knocked on the door.
By the time my cab had gotten to East egg, evening had come. The last few colors of the sky disappeared into black, as the temperature plummeted, bringing with it breezes of cold air. I shuffled my feet on his door mat, glancing awkwardly around his property.
     "Ah, look who decided to come. Good evening, Nick."
     Tom's figure filled the entire doorway. Behind him, I could hear a heated conversation taking place- with interest, I tried taking a glance over his shoulder to see what was happening, but Tom moved shifted, blocking my view.
     "Sorry, Tom, But I had to check on an old friend of mine before coming."
      "Oh, really?"
Tom smirked, as if not believing me at first.
      "Yes, I am really sorry for being late-"
I began, before being cut off shortly again.
      "-Oh no, Nick, no need for any explanation. Did you catch yourself a new lady in upstate New York?"
  Tom said, obviously trying to stall.
      "I can completely understand that, my friend. No apology needed-"
      "-No, no, it's not that. I went to go visit Gatsby."
   Tom, suddenly losing his playful smirk, frowned.
      "Gatsby? I thought he was dead."
   I put my hands into my pockets, giving Tom a cold, stern look.
       "What? With the rumors, the controversy, how could I be positive what's true or not?
        Besides, Nick, He's a filthy man. I don't see why you continue speaking with him like you do."
        Tom hesitated, slightly bending down to meet me eye-level.
" You know-"
       Tom paused, glanced behind him, then lowered his voice into a serous whisper. His eyes locked with mine.
         "He is the reason for this entire mess. He deserves to be put back into the ground, dead or alive for all I care."
        A short, wispy breath escaped from my mouth and faded into the cold air. Tom rose back up before me, and before he could continue, I saw a similar woman come up behind him. Her blue, soft eyes lit up upon seeing me, as she pushed Tom gently out of the way.
         "Nick! What a pleasure to see you again."
       She put her arms around me, smiling into my shoulder.
I was invited inside, where I saw a plate of pills sitting on the table, and an ice bag. Jordan, obviously frustrated, kept glancing from Daisy to the medication case, urging her to take them.
As jordan helplessly tried to convince Daisy upon reentering the house, Tom sat me down on their front porch to describe the entire scenario that I had missed out on.
       Before Wilson had arrived To Gatsby's, in those missing hours, Wilson had arrived at Tom's place. Tom had told Wilson the lie which he believed was the truth- that could have, and according to Tom, should have, resulted in Gatsby's death. Tom continued on telling me about how he and Daisy had made plans to leave, to start fresh, but these plans were sabotaged when she took a blow to the head from Wilson's pistol.
        "Just as Wilson was turning around, Daisy- being the brash one that she is- runs up behind me, thinking that it was you, or Gatsby. Then, out of nowhere, that deranged excuse of a man turns around and shoots the gun. It was a perfect shot, flying just above my shoulder, skimming my wife's head before penetrating the wall behind her. It's a wonder that she lived through it all; I was sure that the doctor's would have given up early, given the plentiful amount of blood loss. However-"
        Tom looked over his shoulder to nod at Jordan, who had finally gotten Daisy to rest.
         "Now, she can't remember anything."
     Tom spoke as if he could hardly believe it himself. Jordan, who had given Tom the thumbs up earlier, sat beside him, filing her nails.
          "She remembered me."
      I said, resting my arm on the white table cloth. Jordan continued to file her nails, blowing on them gently. When the candle between us went out, Jordan would lift it back up again, before sinking back into her ignorance.
           "Nick, you're right. According to the doctor's, Daisy is suffering from post- traumatic amnesia. She remembers certain things, vividly, but has trouble recalling everything else."
           "She won't take her medication or anything. I have to slip it into her food when she's not watching."
          The next morning, I enjoyed a grand breakfast out on their front porch. Daisy sat next to me, in a simple but elegant dress, eyeing Tom, then turning to me.
           "Nick, that man keeps claiming to be my husband."
    She whispered to me, completely unaware of Tom's presence right across from her.
           " I am your husband!"
     I had quite some time off from my job, so I agreed with Tom to stay and help him look after Daisy. The Buchanan's house had become an adventure for Daisy. To Daisy, she no longer was Daisy Buchanan. Just Daisy.
            During many afternoons, I would accompany her as Tom left for work, and Jordan went back to her own life. We strolled throughout the house, admiring their possessions.
            "I can't believe I have so much, Nick. Isn't' it marvelous? I could look throughout this place for hours, and I would never be bored. It's like a castle."
            That following night, we all had dinner outside on their front porch. Our faces were lit up by the candlelight as Daisy, still doubting Tom, sat on my side. Her pale face blushed as we began eating the turkey Tom had specially prepared for Daisy- it had been her favorite dish, and he hoped that perhaps the smell of it would help bring back a memory.
                  "Nick, it was the platter we had on our honeymoon. It was so delicious that, we splurged and ordered seconds, then thirds, just to take home and have the next day."
Tom had told me in their kitchen, watching his many servants scramble to reassemble to [past perfect dish.
            The turkey was smoked, glazed over in a golden sauce that made it glisten in our table light. Stuffing was also served, along with seasoned mashed potatoes. Many other side dishes accompanied the turkey, filling our table and covering the white table cloth.
          After a few bites of just about everything, Daisy began playing with her food before setting down her fork completely. I hadn't noticed, as I was too into my own plate. Tom, however, peered down over the candle light to see Daisy's plate left (mostly) untouched.
            "Honey, What's wrong?'
       Daisy, slowly looking to Tom, blushed slightly.
             "I don't like it."
             "What? But it's your favorite dish."
        Daisy took a glance over at me, then looked shyly over at Jordan. Jordan, her own mouth full, nodded with Tom in agreement.
              "Your husband is right, Daisy. It's Delicious, at least have a little bit more of turkey. I know it's good, I helped prepare it myself."
        She winked at Daisy as she took another bite. Daisy continued to reluctantly eat it, trying to dab some of the seasoning off of the tukey before placing it into her mouth.
                "The glaze, it's just too much, Tom. I mean, of course it's not bad-"
                 "-What do you mean, Daisy? this is how you always liked it. That's what I asked for when I had ordered this- I ordered it, in your way, just for you. Specifics and everything."
          Tom grabbed his napkin, wiping his mouth aggressively. He met eye contact with Jordan, who shrugged in response.
                 "Perhaps it's your medication, Daisy. I'm sure once you're off of it, your taste will come back again. It must just be a side effect."
            Jordan said, her tone softening, speaking to Daisy as if sahe were a child. Daisy glanced at her innocently, before turning to me.
                  "Do you like it, Nick?"
           Feeling Tom's hard stare at me, and the rising tension stirring within him, I quickly changed the subject.
                   "Daisy, have you tried the mashed potatoes?"
            I said nervously. It was an obvious point, as they had been left untouched.
       She reached over for the gravy, drizzling the potatoes in the yellow sauce before eating them.
         For the rest of the night, we all ate in silence- Daisy, who finished the mashed potatoes, and Tom, who was left with the majority of the turkey. Jordan and I tried desperately to keep small talk going in between them, but almost nothing could break the stress across the dinner table that the disappoint within Tom was creating.
         That night, once Jordan and Daisy had gone to bed (or at least, Jordan had) Tom confronted me.
           "Nick, what should I do?'
         I hesitated, glanced around, trying to think of an appropriate answer.
            "This has been going on for months. I can barely stand it Nick, you know that?"
       Letting out a sigh, Tom pulled out a cigar from his pocket, lighting it. He took a deep gulp of it in, puffing out the smoke slowly. Tom offered me one. I was about to decline, when I caught some of the stirring frustration within Tom. I took the cigar, coughing awkwardly as I tried to sympathize with him.
                "I'm going to bed, Nick. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her."
        And  With that, Tom turned and went inside, leaving me on the porch, alone.
       Just as I was about to go inside, I caught sight of the green light. My mind wandered over to Gatsby, as I was taken back to the very first night I had seen him- arms outstretched, his mind filled with careless inspiration.
      Out of curiosity, I walked out onto the dock, to see a figure sitting there.
The moon cast its white light on the water, making it sparkle. It rose high  above the buchanan's mansion, a shining white orb that watched over all of us. Admiring the moon and all of its beauty, the figure sitting on the docks edge, appeared to be leaning on the green light itself.
             "...Daisy?"
        She jumped, looking behind her. After her eyes darted around wildly for some time, she relaxed, then let out an embarrassed smile.
             " I'm Sorry, Nick. I mistook you for Tom. He hates it when I sit out here at night."
       I sat down next to her, admiring the moonlight that was quivering on the water's surface.
               "He does?"
       I asked, quickly wanting to take back my words, in fear that she would be offended. I had forgotten for a moment that she had completely forgotten who Tom was, and I had been scared that she would have caught onto my implication about Tom's rude behavior towards her.
      Daisy, though, kept looking across the water.
              "Oh Nick, You wouldn't believe. Before you came over, I would come out here all of the time at midnight. Out here, in the presence of the stars, and beneath the moon, I always get this feeling of peace. Out here, I can finally breath, you know? Inside, everyone is always trying to shove pills down my throat, or occupy me around the house in fear of me getting lost. It's like no one takes me seriously anymore.
                Out here, though, I can finally think. My thoughts could float all the way up to the moon and back, and no one would judge me for being "crazy". Nick, do you ever wish you could just fly away? Into a peaceful place, where you would never be constantly watched, and everyone would mind their own business?"
        Daisy stared across the water, her smooth face lit up by the moonlight. She finally turned to me, giving me a smile. It was a young smile, a smile that struck within me a feeling of familiarity. It warmed me on the inside, comforted me, and in that moment I finally had gotten the idea that perhaps I could relate to Daisy. My mind, captivated by the truth in her words, finally saw the beauty that Gatsby had seen in her  those many years ago.
              "I know I do, Nick."
     She looked from me back across the water again, back at the stars and at the moon. The green light swirled around us, feeling us with a moment of enchantment in this congested city polluted by careless people.
              "Dasiy?"
      She turned towards me again, a welcoming smile on her face.
               "Yes?"
               "How much do you remember?"
       She paused, shifting awkwardly in place.
              "Well, A lot of people have asked that. And the thing  is, is that I'm not sure. It's not that I don't know; well, technically I don't know, but  I do know for sure that I know...something."
       Looking  into the water, Daisy stared down at her own, wavering reflection, that was mostly blurred out by the shadow of the dock.
               "With everything that I encounter, it's as if I'm always looking into a pool of water. I know what it is; but the details, I'm never sure about. They are always changing, it seems.  At times, it's worse, where it's like I am living in a dream. Other times, I remember things clearly, as if they only happened moments ago."
             I followed her gaze, examining how the surface overlapped in small waves, making the moonlight shift and turn.
              "And those lost memories- though I know some will be lost forever- feel closer when I am sitting here."
            Her gaze went back to looking across the water, her watery eyes sparkling with its reflection. I looked across the water myself, letting my own mind wander on the same ideas that Daisy might have been having.
                "How come Tom doesn't like it when you are here, then?"
           I asked, my tone insecure of her response.
                 " He's so worried about me these days, all of the time, Nick. It's exhausting. When he catches me here, Tom is always thinking I'm going to jump over the dock and drown myself."
             She sighed, catching my gaze. The soft splash of the waves  made the silence between us feel peaceful; evening comforting.
                   "Tom doesn't even like it when I leave the house. Why do you think he invited you over here, Nick?"
                  "He called me from my apartment in upstate New York. I was quite confused, but I'm glad that I had the chance to come and visit you, after all that happened."
                She smiled again, warming me on the inside, despite the cool wind that the breeze carried along the dock's waters.
                   "Yes, I think we can both agree that being shot in the face is anything but a pleasurable experience."
                  Daisy remarked humorously, smiling weakly.
                   "Agreed"
            We both let out a wispy, nervous laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation we were in.