Saving Jay Gatsby

The Bar With No Name

There she stood. Jordan Baker. THE Jordan Baker.

Did she recognize me? From the party the other day?

I ducked behind the curtain. My heart was racing. 

We had only met briefly at Gatsby's. There's no way-

The curtain was suddenly yanked open again. "Alice?" Jordan called, peering out into the bar.

Her head was barely poking out. She turned to the right, then to the left. We locked eyes. She smiled. "Ah, Alice. I thought that was you!"

I smiled back, "Yes, hi. I am really sorry about barging in on you, I can go, I don't want to be a both-"

"Nonsense!" Jordan interjected. Her hand shot out and clasped my right wrist. "It is always nice to see old friends."

Old? We had only met days before. Her hand remained firmly encircled around my wrist. Her eyes trailed from me, to the live band performing on the stage.

"Alice, I think I hear a foxtrot tune coming on... Dance with me." It was not a question. 

I tried to hold my smile.

Somewhat forcefully, Jordan guided me to the dancefloor. As the trumpets began a new phrase, Jordan's body locked into a graceful frame. Her arms were taunt, awaiting my left hand to clasp her right.

As I placed my hand in hers, I felt a tremble. It was hard to tell whether the tremble was from Jordan's hand or mine. Looking at her now, fear seemed an impossibility. 

Her face remained fixed in a brilliant smile. It lifted her cheekbones, making them look even sharper than I had seen before.

We began to dance. Quickly, I corrected my frame to support hers. Jordan led. I followed.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. It was a steady beat, but my feet were sluggish at first, slowed from the lack of practice. It had been years since I had taken a dance lesson. 

As we danced in rhythm with the tune of the band, Jordan began to speak. "Alice, about what you saw... I was just-"

"You don't owe me an explanation Jordan, really. I intruded"

We spun around the dancefloor. As my muscle memory began to remind my legs of what to do, I started to somewhat match the effortless way Jordan spun us across the dancefloor. 

A crowd had begun to form around us, watching as we found a rhythm together. 

Jordan's smile faltered a moment. I leaned my head slightly closer to her, "Even if I hadn't, you weren't doing anything wrong."

Jordan looked down at me then. Her expression was different, unreadable. She spun me around slowly as voices from the crowd began to clamor.

Slowly, her mouth stretched into a smile; a real one this time. 

"Thank you," she said in a single, quiet breath. if we had not been dancing closely, I would have heard only an exhale.

"Her name is Josie. She is a singer... and a dear friend." 

"Maybe I can meet her again sometime?" 

The music began to slow, reaching the end of the song. We stopped there, in the middle of the dancefloor. I bowed my head slightly, "after all, we are old friends, right?"

Jordan laughed. It was distinctive, like the sharp edges of her voice. "Of course, old friend" Jordan leaned into a mock curtsy, smiling as she bent down. In that moment, she seemed more like the woman I met at Gatsby's mansion, confident and witty.