Saving Jay Gatsby

Party at Mr. Gatsby's

Cordelia shuffled to the mirror, touching up her own makeup.

"Have you ever met him?" I asked.

Cordelia shook her head. "No, I never have." She swiveled, leaning in close to me, as if she was about to tell a secret. "You know his workers even say that they haven't really met him."

So Gatsby is just like he is in the book! I wonder if he's met Nick yet...

No! This is all just a dream! There is no Nick or Cordelia or Gatsby. Any minute now I'll wake up in the hospital with a bad migraine or something.

My eyes shifted back to Cordelia, she certainly looked real.

Cordelia grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the door, "come on, it's time to go."

We ran through what looked to be a small living room and a kitchen before making it outside.

An old car was parked in the front of Cordelia's home. It was very small compared to cars I'm used to, but I managed to climb in it without too much difficulty. Cordelia started up the car, "alright, hold on."

"Hold on? Wha-", before I could finish a coherent sentence, the car sputtered to life. I immediately understood why she said hold on. The car vibrated. Badly. It felt like my insides were gradually shimmying up my body as each second passed.

If we had brought a bottle of milk with us, it would have probably have turned in to heavy cream in a matter of minutes.

Twenty torturous minutes of driving in the car, we sped by the place I had been looking for since we started the trip. 

There, beside the road, was the infamous service station that Myrtle lived in. She must hate staying here in the Valley of Ashes with her husband while the apartment Tom got for her is sitting vacant, only miles away.

Even though Myrtle was cheating on her husband, I could never grow to hate her. She was just another victim of the Buchanan's selfishness. 

"Doesn't this all seem so depressing?" Cordelia mused aloud. "All the wealth surrounding this place and it still looks like a trash heap."

I nodded, "the one thing I've learned from wealthy people is that they don't give," I said as I leaned into the window. "They only take."

Cordelia drove in silence for a few minutes. I could tell she was deep in thought. The silence felt like an invisible weight, urging us both to say something to fill the void. 

Cordelia finally spoke up, "not all of them are like that."

I laughed bitterly, "I'll believe that when they prove me wrong."

"Well, prepare to be proven wrong tonight," Cordelia replied merrily, as if the serious conversation we had a few seconds ago never happened. "Because Gatsby gives his guests the best food and drinks this city has to offer."

She took a turn to the left. Gradually, as we drove on, the ashes turned into lush grass and trash heaps were replaced by ginormous mansions.

Expensive cars clogged the narrow streets, abandoned by their owners who had left for the party.

After a few minutes of maneuvering, Cordelia gave up on trying to get through the blocked road and exited her car like the drivers in the cars in front of us had. "It's a little bit of a walk," Cordelia mused as she helped me climb out of the old car. "At least our dancing feet will be warmed up for the Charleston."

Right after she mentioned the word Charleston, Cordelia did a brief, exaggerated version of the energetic dance. I didn't know it was possible to exaggerate a dance like that, but somehow Cordelia managed to.