The Gay Gatsby

Chapter 34: Life Sucks Dick (or LSD)

The further I got into the house, the worse my surroundings became; it seemed the more I delved, the more the people around me delved. I watched as what started as boisterous chatter and smiling faces turned into violent cries and drunken arguments. The euphoric air at the front of the house had faded into a dysphoric dejection. It was almost as if the house was guiding me to Callaway. I was reassured by this fact, being encouraged to proceed in the mess that was a house party, knowing that just maybe I was getting closer.

"Chance!" Someone said to my right, as a hand grasped my shoulder. "I told you not to come."

Oh no.

I turned my body around, eyes meeting brown ones.

I smiled, forceful. "Hey, Aly."

She squinted her eyes at me. "Why are you here?"

Her grip on my shoulder was piercing, her fingernails digging through my cardigan. But my attention was fixed solely on her eyes, for they were more blazing than I had ever bore witness.

"I needed to make sure he's okay," I admitted.

Aly's eyes hardened. "Chance, he's fine. And really, it doesn't even matter how he is right now, because he doesn't matter."

I opened my mouth to interrupt her.

"No, Chance." She stopped me. "I've been trying my best to keep quiet about how I feel about all of this, but I've had it.

"Callaway is a mess. And he always has been. He's an alcoholic, recovering drug addict and he's mentally ill. He's just a fire waiting to burn out." Her voice was beginning to heighten. "And he will burn out, Chance. Do you really want to be caught in the aftermath?

"I know you think that there's good in him." Her gaze softened. "And somehow, I'm caught under the notion that there's good in him too. But we both have to accept reality. There's no good in people like him. All that he's good for is bringing about destruction.

"He was both perfect for you and perfect for ruining you. You see damaged people and you want to fix them. You think that everyone has the potential to be good. All they need is a little help. But there's no fixing Callaway. If a certified doctor can't do it, do you really think a 17 year-old boy can?"

My head was spinning as I heard the truth in Aly's words, though I refused to believe it.

"He doesn't deserve you, Chance. None of us deserve you. He's mooching off you to make himself feel better. Because being associated with someone as perfect as you elevates him - it somehow dilutes his horribleness by being with you. There's nothing good about him, Chance."

Aly looked at me then, conviction obvious.

"The only good thing about him is that you found a way to love him. "

Her words rang with distinct finality, her face softening.

And I wanted to scream; for my voice to belt out against the blaring air, to have my aversion be heard. I wanted to yell at Aly about how she was being irrational, close-minded and judgmental; yell about how she was speaking ignorantly; yell about how she was only jealous.

It's only because she's in love with you, my mind screeched at me. She just doesn't want you to be with him and not her.

But one sparse look at her face said otherwise. Aly looked at me not in jealousy, nor sadness, nor fear.

She looked at me in concern.

Before me wasn't the girl who got frustrated when I gave her the wrong coffee. It wasn't the girl who messed up my friend's name on purpose. It wasn't the girl who got drunk and spoke horribly of someone at a cafe. It wasn't the girl who let her anger and jealousy overule her love and kindness.