Chapter Text
If there was one feeling Jay Gatsby knew better than any other, it was longing. Longing for Daisy and the love they once had, longing for her embrace and the light across the bay, and, in the case of that particularly rainy afternoon in July, simply longing to be dry. His hair was matted to his tanned forehead as he paced nervously through the newly-trimmed greenery of his neighbor’s garden, mud making horrible squelching noises underfoot as he waited rather impatiently for his golden girl’s arrival. Part of him was certain she would never come, but another part begged him to trust Nick; just give it some time.
He had avoided the unfortunate weather all morning in protection of his metallic suit-jacket, having practically flown through the doorway and onto the sofa, which moved beneath him with a squeak of its springs. He was pleased to see the flowers he had called for arranged so lovingly throughout the sitting room, there was no missing the aroma wafting through the air.
“The grass looks nice.” Nick tried to say, offering Jay a glass of water, which he declined out of fear he’d spill it down the front of him, given how shaky he was. He was barely paying attention to Nick’s words, mostly concerned with thoughts of what was to come.
“What grass?”
“My grass. The grass outside. Landscaper was here as the storm was just picking up.”
Ah, yes, Jay thought to himself, the storm. Just another reason Daisy wouldn’t be apt to leave her home for tea with the cousin she’d barely spoken to before that summer. “The paper said it should end by four. I believe it was The Journal.”
“A little bit of rain never hurt anyone.” Nick hummed as he pulled back the curtains of the front window just slightly, giving way to a splendid view of the Long Island Sound, only broken in a few places by front-garden trees. “She’s not made of paper.”
The next few minutes were nearly silent, only the sounds of the two men’s breath punctuating the soundless home, along with the occasional ticking of the mantlepiece clock. When it struck two, Jay threw his head back and wailed.
“She isn’t coming. No one’s coming.” Jay sank defeatedly into the cushions. “It’s five minutes past!”
“Don’t get discouraged.” Nick’s voice was music to his ears, a soft lullaby at that, not the loud music performed at his parties. The brunette’s eyes flickered to the front window. “She probably just got caught in traffic. There’s bound to be people skidding offroad with a downpour like this.”
“And if she doesn’t come?”
“She will.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’re acting like a little boy.” Nick didn’t mean it insultingly, but he said it sternly, with confidence. “Quit whining, and take a breath. She’ll be along, and I’ll be here to make sure you don’t do anything…rash.”
For a moment, Jay thought that Nick was going to sit down next to him and pull him into his side, like a mother would a child who feared the monster under the bed, but Nick straightened his knees and walked over to the rain-dappled window, tucking the curtains aside for a further field of view.
The anticipation was killing Jay. He needed to do something drastic: he needed to run into the rain and throw himself down the road and sit there, surely she would see him then, wouldn’t she? He needed to get out of this stuffy house; the once-lovely scent of a greenhouse’s worth of flowers made him feel like he’d inhaled an entire bottle of perfume, and the way Nick moved about, obviously trying to hide what Jay assumed was his own anxiety, just made the pit in his stomach grow bigger and bigger.
It had to be perfect. Jay had planned the whole meeting out years ago—well, minus Nick—with conversations and all. She would see him again and fall into his arms and weep for she had missed him as much as he had her, and together they would run away out west and live out their lives away from the arrogance of the rich folk of East Egg and West Egg alike. Finally, Jay wouldn’t have to look straight off a moving-picture screen or a Broadway stage; he could live his own life with Daisy, a simple life.
A familiar rumbling, that of an automobile, resounded from the dirt drive, loud and angry, above the pattering of raindrops on the manicured grass. Nick adjusted the sleeve of one end of his jacket, glancing comfortingly at Jay before he went to the door and pushed it open with a rusted squeak. The noise was grating, and the rain only seemed to be falling harder, and his heart was pounding into his throat and in the moment, Jay was certain he was about to die. He ran for the back door, which, thankfully, was unlocked, and threw himself into the yard among wildflowers and newly-formed puddles, almost falling face first into the wet grass. The old house itself seemed to mock him as he leaned against it to catch his breath: couldn’t you have picked a better day? Shame on you for not predicting the weather.
It was safe to say there was a lot of pressure to get this right. There was to be no tangling of sentences, no mistaken gestures or crooked smiles or, god forbid, tea spills. No, he had to prove himself, finally. By the time so little as a minute had passed, Jay was almost entirely unaware of the plump raindrops that fell above him, soaking his thousand-dollar suit and sending shivers through his body despite the summer heat, despite having complained about them at the time of his arrival to his neighbor’s home. No, his mind lingered on one thing and one thing only: Daisy.
And to get to her, he would need to, well, go back inside. He tried to force his nerves back down his throat where they threatened to come to the surface along with the toast and blackberry jam he had eaten for breakfast, and yet his feet carried him mindlessly back to the front door, rainwater pooling around him as he knocked. The few seconds before Nick opened the door felt like a lifetime, and Jay was certain his heart stopped for around half of them. Still, he raised his fist to the door and rapped his knuckles thrice upon the chipped paint, once emerald, now a putrid, swampy shade. The knob turned, and Jay’s heart beat faster yet.
His nostrils were immediately bombarded with the scents of various summer blossoms, which was his own doing, and his eyes were at the same time met with Nick. Dry, for one, and dressed in a stiff green suit and tie, chestnut-hued shoes, matte and in need of a good shining, which Jay made a mental note to have done for the man who had sacrificed so much to reunite lost lovers. In reality, Nick looked no different than he ever had; Nick was constant, Nick was familiar, and above all, Nick was safe. His eyes, pale brown and flecked with green that glowed as beautifully as the light across the bay, settled on Jay’s and gazed at him without even a touch of judgement. No, the plan wouldn’t have worked if not for this man from Minnesota, would it have?
Jay thought for a moment that he himself must have looked absolutely and utterly pathetic; he was dripping wet, his hair was flattened against his skin, the smell of nervous sweat greatly overpowered that of petrichor or whatever good thing could possibly come from rain, and, lord above, he looked about ready to collapse on the ground out of panic. Nick, being Nick, just smiled, and mouthed she’s here.
Daisy had herself pressed into a sofa like it was the only thing keeping her from floating away from earth. Her hat, wide-brimmed and colored of lavender, sat on her lap, and Jay could see a few strands of her hair pressed into her cheeks, still damp from the weather outside. He was certain that if he reached out to touch her, she would wither into ash, or fade away into nothing. This was no real woman; this was ethereal, this was a storybook princess cast away from pen and ink and given flesh. He tried to speak, but only managed to open and close his mouth as if chewing on the air in front of him.
“I sure am glad to see you.” She spoke so lightly, naturally yet somehow unnaturally, somehow breathing as she talked. “You’ve changed.”
“You haven’t.” She was just as he had remembered her: beautiful, enchanted, otherworldly, and above all else, entirely unattainable, even five years later.
Jay threw a desperate glance back at Nick, who had said nothing since Jay had re-entered the little bungalow. He recalled what his neighbor had advised of him around noon that day: don’t lose hope.
He didn’t know why he felt the way he did. After all, it was supposed to be different, wasn’t it? Rich girls don’t marry poor boys, she had told him, and now that he had climbed to the top of a very precarious ladder, he felt no more rich than he had as a young boy growing up in North Dakota. But, god, he had to do right by Nick. As much as he wanted to run away like a deer from a gunshot, he had to stay. He couldn’t lose hope.
“The flowers are very lovely.” Daisy’s eyes refused to meet his, and he could feel despair stirring in his chest as if awaking from slumber. “Did you pick them out yourself?”
“And paid for them.” He finally took a seat opposite her. “I wanted to make it perfect for you. Seeing as…seeing as I never could before.”
Daisy finally met his gaze, and Jay saw only hollowness, to no fault of her own. He thought back, and he’d never really felt in place with her. Something must have been broken, he decided in the moment. He was rich, but something didn’t fit; he was far too…jagged, too…big, and too uncontrollable. Who was Jay Gatsby, if not someone who it took work, and a hell of a lot of it every single day to be?
Maybe he just wasn’t working hard enough. Surely, that was it! Everything he had wanted, everything he had dreamed of, everything that kept him alive in the war, all his hard work was sitting three feet away in a dove-white dress, and yet it still wasn’t sufficient?
Why the hell was he never enough?
“You look lovely. Straight from the heavens.” His shaky hand reached for a teacup, sleeve brushing through lilies and peonies and poppies.
“You flatter me.” Daisy hummed when she talked, she always hummed when she talked, as if that sing-song tone took warming up. “My, Jay, it’s been a long time.”
“Five years in November.”
“Is it?”
“I’ve kept count.”
Daisy let out a sigh and traced a hand delicately over Jay’s thigh. “I’m glad to see you again. It’s an honor to see that you’ve come so far, Jay.”
“It’s all for you.” He pointed westward, where the yellow light of his own house shone like tiny beacons through the summer storm. “Every bit of it.”
“Is that so?” She was in awe, and Jay thought for a moment that everything would be okay. It would all be worth it: the phone calls to the shadiest of characters, the late nights, the tear-stained pillow that sat in the mansion on the huge, plush bed. He would have Daisy in his arms by the evening, and everything would be okay.
Soon enough, the time seemed to pass like it did way back when, as if 1917 had once more reared its head and greeted the then-lovers with its tender embrace. Old jokes resurfaced, and the pouring rain turned into a cozy drizzle outside the speckled windows. Nick flitted around like a mother bird hovering around its nest, never too far if Jay’s once-endless supply of hope started to dwindle.
“You’re a saint, Jay!” She had moved to his side now, her dress’s soft white fabric rubbing against his near-glimmery pant leg. “It’s like…it’s like stepping back in time! Are you fairly certain you aren’t able to do magic?”
Him? Magical? No, that was something he hadn’t given a moment of thought to since the war. There was nothing magic about Jay Gatsby, the only magical thing at play was money. He never had the money to marry her before, and now he did.
So why did it not feel right?
Jay expected complete and total infatuation from both sides. Did all of those years, every long night he spent out on his dock, blinking away tears and staring, yearning for that stupid light, mean nothing? It wasn’t Daisy’s fault, no, she was an angel, gleaming, pure and saintly, and far above him. It wasn’t Daisy’s fault that he had been too blind to notice his own damned feelings changing.
“I can’t believe it’s all for me.” She said in a moment of silence, to which Jay quickly asked if she wanted to go see it all up close. He slapped himself afterward, or he would have had she not been there, because this, he knew deep down, was a mistake. He had worked for hours to make this into the space he was to reconcile with Daisy in. His own house was barely a home, let alone ready to house what he knew to be an angel who lost her way going home to the clouds.
“Good!” He was forced to say. In a panic, his eyes darted to Nick, who looked incredibly alarmed when their gazes locked onto one another. “You too, old sport.”
“You’re certain you don’t want a bit of privacy?” Nick questioned, but it was clear he knew the answer was no. “I’m not…I wasn’t meant to be…”
His voice trailed off, and within moments, he was at Jay’s side. “Let me know if you ever want me to go back home.”
“I don’t think I’ll have to, old sport.” It was more of a plea than anything else. Please stay. I can’t do this alone.
And so, they went through the yard as a parade, Jay forcing himself to march in front, with Daisy between himself and the only person keeping him from deserting the plan and launching himself into a nearby bush to hide like some sort of small rodent. Daisy marvelled at each and every hedge and flowerbed, eyes aglow at strands of lights. “It’s wonderful…what a shame I couldn’t have been here to see it come together…”
Her words were like bullets, each one fired ruthlessly into Jay’s chest. That was all he wanted! Now that he was on the verge of having it, he felt sick to his stomach.
I thought you were perfect for me! Why don’t I feel perfect for you?
His eyelids felt heavy as he led the party through his own heavily decorated yard. It was so early in the evening, and yet the sense of defeat he was burdened made him feel as though it were midnight and he had spent the day running nonstop through the entire city. The looming fear of the knowledge that one misstep could ruin half a decade of hard work sent a shiver down his spine, the thick, humid air so heavy on his body, he was on the verge of collapse.
And yet, every time he looked back, there was Nick, smiling at him, warm and real and promising that he could do this, that there was no real danger afoot. What ever would he do without Nick?
When they finally reached the manor, Nick was already turned to leave, two steps below Jay and Daisy on the front porch. “I really should leave you two alone!”
“Nonesense, old sport!” Jay’s hand caught his shoulder and stayed there, clenching down tightly. “You must come inside. You’ve…never seen the house without a thousand people inside!”
“A thousand?” Daisy looked shocked. “And I thought Jordan exaggerated!”
“No, no, Miss Baker is a fairly honest woman, at least from what I understand,” Jay pushed open the doors and led the pair ofcousins into the foyer.
If Daisy had been impressed with the outdoors, her jaw had been on the floor when she ever stepped inside. The place seemed to glisten gold, vast and reeking of new money.
“It’s beautiful…” she said breathily. “You’ve…you’ve outdone yourself.”
“I certainly gave it a go.” He finally let go of Nick’s shoulder after realizing that the other man had gone an unfortunate shade of strawberry-red. “It’s like what we always talked about, a manor to rival Olympus.”
“It is.” She stepped out into the evening light, finally beaming through the massive windows after almost ten hours’ worth of heavy rainfall. She seemed to reflect light like a crystal, illuminated in body and in spirit. She was on another plane entirely.
“Come upstairs.” He told her, a final effort to be with her—not just see her, truly feel her—again. “I have things I’d like you to see.” There was a moment of quiet before he added: “You too, old sport.”
They climbed the rows of steps and Daisy’s eyes settled on the pristine flooring down below. “I don’t see how you live here all alone. I’d go mad without company.”
“I have company.” Jay retorted. “I keep it full of people, day and night, people who are known by other people nationwide. Celebrated people. It’s only empty now…for you to see it.”
They reached what Jay dubbed his quarters after exploring, or rather, watching Daisy gleefully explore the rest of the bedrooms, swathed in hues of lilac and rose. His own bedroom was the simplest of all, save for two massive closets trimmed with gold, practically bursting at the seams. He pulled them open, tossing shirts of silk and velvet and fine linen onto the bed, where Daisy sat and caught them in delight.
“Are they all yours? Oh, they’re lovely!” She pressed each one to her face as if examining the softness of their fabric, tears welling in her eyes as more floated from his balled fist to her place on the mattress. “I’ve never seen shirts so beautiful…”
Jay recognized the tears as tears of regret: he was incredibly familiar with the likes of them. He wished he could drag a blade through his heart in the moment, for he couldn’t find it within him to sympathize. Everything was going right, yet something within him was so, so wrong.
Why don’t I feel the same?
His eyes searched the room for Nick, but the brunette was nowhere to be found. He wanted to scream, to run for him and vent every frustration that had grown within him in the past few hours. Nick had left, had bid adieu without a second thought, and now Jay’s past was laughing at him from the pedestal he had placed it on!
“The rain’s started again.” Daisy choked back a sob. “Jay, I…thank you, for tonight, and the music and the tour, but I really must go home. It was good to see you again.”
He blinked once, twice. She had sensed it, hadn’t she? She had well-loved, well-worn eyes, and they had seen his hard heart.
“I’m truly sorry I could never give you this before.” His hand went delicately to hers. “I wanted to, but…”
“I know, Jay.” She rubbed her thumb comfortingly over his palm. “I know. And…I’m sorry we cannot be what we once were.”
She kissed him, not on the lips, but the cheek, and coldly, not in love, but as though her lips too trembled in the post-rain air. “I’ll see you again soon?”
“I hope so.”
And she left. He watched from the window as she was taken away in the same car she’d arrived in, her purple hat placed crooked atop her mist-dappled hair.