Natsby

Chapter Two

Fall seemed to be the time where everything slowed down, almost. I resided within Gatsby's home and only left to meet with Jordan every once and awhile.

"And you don't know where he is?" Jordan asked during a luncheon with me. The leaves decorated the ground outside with shades of yellow, red, and orange. "I haven't a clue, Ms. Baker. He mentioned friends in Chicago, but I don't even know if he is there anymore, if he was even there in the first place," I replied, staring into my cup of tea. Jordan waved her hand over the glass, bringing my attention back to her.

"Don't worry Nick. Gatsby is a man of many wonders, and that includes avoiding potential trouble, despite his work," She assured me. I had to admit she was right on that. Gatsby and his work, as I insist on calling it, should have left the man dead or in prison. Instead, he's rich and living in a huge mansion on the egg.

That didn't silence my fears.

I wandered through the mansion later in the evening, all the windows and doors open to let in the now chilling breeze. I did not mind, though.

The chill gave me a sense of the surroundings of my world. Gatsby was right, his mansion was daft. And big. And lonely.

I invited Jordan over for tea, but she was unable to come. "I am so sorry Nick. A man wants to recruit me for a Europe circuit, and if I can get in it would mean so much," She told me over the phone. "It is alright, Miss. Baker. I'm sure there is something I need to do today, so I suppose I must go." "Of course, Nick. Take care, loneliness doesn't suit you." I chuckled and we said our goodbyes before I hung up. My small smile left my face as I walked and sat in a nearby loveseat. I missed Gatsby. Hopefully he would come home soon.

Winter soon came in with white flurries and cold temperatures following.

I was in a constant state of boredom in Gatsby's home, the abundance of rooms now filling me with a hollow emptiness as they reminded me of the sheer fact I was for the most part alone again. Jordan had visited every once in awhile to check up on me, although I couldn't fathom why she would. Our contact ended quite abruptly, her golfing career carrying her deep into the heart of Europe and beyond. I would get the occasional post card, but it did nothing to heal the lonesome feelings I held. I knew why I felt so lonely, and it was nothing Ms. Baker, Daisy, or anyone could fix, except for one. Jay Gatsby.

His hurricane of excitement and freedom had came and went so fast I couldn't get a grip on it, leaving me even more anxious than I was before I moved to New York all those months ago. His eyes are what I had remembered most. His blue eyes that would shine like the crisp blue bay, deepening to a dark hue when he spoke with clients from all over. I lived in his home, reminders of my time with him strewn about. I hadn't been in his room, not even to indulge in the wardrobe he graciously offered me when I had accepted his request months ago. After listening to what seemed to be the thousandth melodic tune from Klipspringer, I decided to enter his untouched room.

I closed the door behind myself, pausing to take in the sight. It looked so clean and orderly, and I saw visions of the three of us from months ago; Daisy, Gatsby, and myself. That day flashed in my mind so quickly, I didn't realize the nostalgic tear rolling down my cheek until I blinked myself out of it. I wiped my face quickly in embarrassment, walking over to his bed and taking off my shoes before laying in it. I spread out, my whole body not taking up even half of the bed. I rolled to the side and inhaled one of his pillows, the scent oh so familiar, and I clutched the pillow close, wishing it was him instead.

I froze, eyes wide and worried. What am I allowing myself to do? I furrowed my brows, clutching the pillow even tighter. It was true, I enjoyed those dates with Jordan, however I did not fancy her too much. In fact, I haven't taken much notice to the girls here as I laid there pondering my romantic choices. But, I hadn't really noticed men either, so I wasn't a homosexual. Then, what was I? What was this infatuation I held for Gatsby? I decided to not enter that room ever again, or at least for some time, as the confusion of my actions only left more holes in my mind and heart than there were before.I ran into Tom and Daisy, or more so, I caught the sight of them taking luggage out of a taxi. Daisy, holding her daughter close, saw me and waved. They were moving again, she had told me the day before. After what those two have done, I had hoped I wouldn't see them again before they left. Tom, sending out a suicidal man to kill Gatsby, and Daisy, the one who hit a woman with a car, not even caring about where Gatsby had ran off to. They both left a sick feeling deep in me.

    Winter soon came in with white flurries and cold temperatures following.
    I was in a constant state of boredom in Gatsby's home, the abundance of rooms now filling me with a hollow emptiness as they reminded me of the sheer fact I was for the most part alone again. Jordan had visited every once in awhile to check up on me, although I couldn't fathom why she would. Our contact ended quite abruptly, her golfing career carrying her deep into the heart of Europe and beyond. I would get the occasional post card, but it did nothing to heal the lonesome feelings I held. I knew why I felt so lonely, and It was nothing Ms. Baker, Daisy, or anyone could fix, except for one. Jay Gatsby.

    His hurricane of excitement and freedom had came and went so fast I couldn't get a grip on it, leaving me even more anxious than I was before I moved to New York all those months ago. His eyes are what I had remembered most. His blue eyes that would shine like the crisp blue bay, deepening to a dark blue when he spoke with clients from all over. I lived in his home, reminders of my time with him strewn about. I hadn't been in his room, not even to indulge in the wardrobe he graciously offered me when I had accepted his request months ago. After listening to what seemed to be the thousandth melodic tune from Klipspringer, I decided to enter his untouched room.

    I closed the door behind myself, pausing to take in the sight. It looked so clean and orderly, and I saw visions of the three of us from months ago; Daisy, Gatsby, and myself. That day flashed in my mind so quickly, I didn't realize the nostalgic tear rolling down my cheek until I blinked myself out of it. I wiped my face quickly in embarrassment, walking over to his bed and taking off my shoes before laying in it. I spread out, my whole body not taking up even half of the bed. I rolled to the side and inhaled one of his pillows, the scent oh so familiar, and I clutched the pillow close, wishing it was him instead. 

    I froze, eyes wide and worried. What am I allowing myself to do? I furrowed my brows, clutching the pillow even tighter. It was true, I enjoyed those dates with Jordan, however I did not fancy her too much. In fact, I haven't taken much notice to the girls here as I laid there pondering my romantic choices. But, I hadn't really noticed men either, so I wasn't a homosexual. Then, what was I? What was this infatuation I held for Gatsby? I decided to not enter that room ever again.