Saving Jay Gatsby

The Tenant

My mind was reeling the entire drive back. How on Earth did Gatsby find me? 

Here I am, sitting in a car with a character from one of my favorite books. It's just unreal. Was this how Fitzgerald imagined everything to be?

Looking at Gatsby now, I couldn't imagine him looking any other way. Although he does fit the novel's descriptions, I never fathomed how many little details were missing within the pages. The small dusting of freckles on his cheeks, the meticulously manicured fingernails, the small scar along his jaw. He was real now. Perhaps he had always been real. Either way, he is real to me.

It's hard to explain. How someone can feel known to you in a matter of hours. How the small moments shared feel more genuine than years of conversations with others.

"So... would you like to talk about why you were in that sleazy place?" Gatsby asked, interrupting my inner ramblings.

I sunk into the seat of the car, willing the leather to swallow me whole so I could save myself the embarrassment of a response.  "It was a mistake. I thought that I could find a place to stay... My friend's apartment was locked."

Gatsby's right hand reached up to touch the space between his brows; a classy, 1920s version of a  facepalm, I presume. "Yes. It was a mistake." He looked over at me and then quickly at the window. It was as if he could no longer meet my eyes. He took a sharp intake of air. "The kind of people that hang out there Alice, if I hadn't been there-"

"I know. And I am grateful. Really." His gaze still fixated on the window. It felt like a punch in the gut. His disapproval was deafening. He has been so kind to me, and I have only caused more problems. 

I didn't mean for any of this to happen.

Here I am, making trouble for myself TWICE in one night. I cannot fathom how women navigated this time period safely. Speaking up for yourself seems to fall on deaf ears. Even in my reality, the voices of women are sometimes silenced and doubted... Still, it seems to be even worse here. I shudder to think what could have happened if Gatsby had not followed me. 

"I am sorry I have caused you so much trouble."

As I finish speaking the car slows to a halt. We had made it back to the mansion. Gatsby immediately exited the car, but held the backdoor open for me.

I quickly got out of my seat and slid out the door. As I stepped onto the cobbled driveway, Gatsby spoke.

"You were not the one causing trouble Alice." With that said, Gatsby closed the car door. "I don't want to put you on the spot, but if you have no place to stay, I would like for you to stay here." He turned toward me. I had not realized how close we were standing until he faced me. I could feel a small tickle of air on my cheeks as he exhaled. Could he feel it too? 

I felt rooted, unable to move. There was just a magnetic force to Gatsby that made you want to be close to him. 

"I cannot force you to stay of course," Gatsby continued. "But please, consider it. I certainly have the space."

I nodded. "I think that would be a good idea. At least until I can get in touch with Cordelia.. Thank you."

A smile plastered on Gatsby's face. "Excellent! I will have a room arranged for you immediately..." 

He began to lean forward as if to say something else. I could feel myself holding my breath. But just as soon as he moved to lean forward, he leaned back, straightening up.

Gatsby adjusted the collar of this shirt and began to head towards the front door. It seems the magnetic force was very much one-sided. With distance between us, my thoughts began to swirl back to the woman with the leather jacket. Her threats seemed very real.  Living with Jay Gatsby is not exactly what she had in mind. I am supposed to be keeping my distance, letting the story play out.