Summertime Sadness

Chapter One: In My Life

  "Anna, it must be love! You wouldn't even miss Gatsby's party for us?" Lily knocked at my door. I was hurrying around, preparing to go to another of Mr. Gatsby's parties. No one knew who he was. He evaded all our prying eyes and ridiculous theories skillfully, and remained shrouded in mystery. His parties, though, attracted almost all of New York as we would crowd to his doorstep amidst the laughter, music, dancing, flamboyance, and chaos. I didn't know why, but I always found myself at his mansion, dressed in my best clothing, and taking in the spectacle. Rumors went around everywhere. He was a spy, a murderer, he didn't exist, but nobody really deeply cared. They came for the extravagance, and would dance the night away and party, often ending up drunk, and lying in the living room as confetti came from the ceiling and the servante swept away leftover banquets, some of the salads still fresh, some of the beef still warm. I would sit somewhere higher up usually, and sip bubbling champagne out of long stemmed flutes as the orchestra dramatically presented each piece, and the crowd cheered. Most of the time, the swimming pool would be filled, and couples would dance together in the tight crowd, so that no one could tell apart each other, and everyone was in a way, intimate. He had a library as well, with walls stocked full of fascinating volumes. I kept on promising myself that I would one day read one, but the party always attracted me back, and I would slip into the crowd as well. I would glace at the fireworks for they never failed to amaze me, and secretly relish the shower of sparkles. I pretended that the elaborate intricacy was dull to me, but I knew that no matter how high ranking I was in society, I'd always be stunned. For I see the velvety sky and hear the music and see the people and feel as if that was full, vivacious life, even though I knew that it could never be. I still lost myself and danced till the hour was late, not knowing I was moving, just letting the splendor posses me. It was unhealthy, but I loved roaming the corners of mystery and climbing up a snowy mountain to reach the light, which I always found when I could just feel alive. The clock drew graceful movements as its arms moved quickly in circles, but we defied time. At last, when I had to leave, I would swipe another champagne flute, and drive away. Then, I would creep up my stairs, extinguish all my candles, (yes, I still used them for their beauty) and lie down on my soft, feathery mattress with swan feathered pillows with my eyes closed as I rewinded the party over and over until sleep came to me.
  "For the last time, I'm not in love!" I shouted to her. Of course, there were many charming characters at Gatsby's mansion, but none of them interested me. Of course, we would occasionally exchange a glance, a smile, but nothing went further beyond that. Of course, they kissed my hand when we were introduced, but that was just manners. I wasn't expecting to find love at a party. I just wanted to enjoy myself.
I was preparing to do the same tonight. I slipped on my golden black dress, covered with beaded fringe and glittered like the golden stars in a starry night. I wore simple pastel stockings, and a pair of sliver high heels with black leather straps. I had already curled my milky brown hair into short, fashionable curls, and I had draped a diamond studded headband across my hair. My jewelry consisted of pearl earrings and a long, layered pearl necklace. I also sprayed on my peach, rose, and vanilla perfume in a rose gold prism flask. I came from a wealthy family, and I had inherited part of our fortune. The truth is, I was 'old money'. I realized how every frequenter at Gatsby's parties were 'new money', but I never understood our rivalry, and ignored this difference. I had a substantial amount of money, and therefore my wardrobe was stocked with trends, my room was furnished with ornaments, and my whole two story house was filled with oil paintings, flower sculptures, and bookshelves. Electricity existed, but I only had a small light in every room, and lit up my hall and stairs with old fashioned and romantic candles. In my room hung a diamond studded mirror with a decoration of pearls and sapphires. My bed had a red velvet canopy with golden fringes, like in classic paintings, and on my dresser there was a rose in a thin, tall glass of water and an elegant notepad with an almost completely used pen. It had not been changed in years. I used to write all the time, but ever since my pen almost ran out of ink, I had stopped. It seemed silly to me, but I still never changed.
  I had grown used to my appearance. My hair was waist length, with no highlights. It had a faint glow, and the milky brown usually appeared lighter in the light. My eyes were cerulean and wide, with small lashes, and my lips were like ripening peaches in summer. I'd never been praised for my appearance before, and my features weren't very dramatic, though.
"Anna? Don't tell me you're going to the party!" This time, Lily opened the door and burst in.
"I've been waiting for such a long time! Let's compromise. You can go, but you'll have to take me. I'll have to meet your fiancé before you marry!" I rolled my eyes at her, and sighed.
"Alright, you can come! You'd better get ready soon, though. I want you to see how beautiful it is when all those shimmering outfits and faces in the crowd hurry in in a colorful swarm." I quickly put on some black laced gloves, and grabbed my fan as I left the room.