Nicole Carraway | The Great Gatsby

Bearcats and the Lower Class

She couldn't have been more wrong.

There was a garden. There was a hidden garden in the middle of the Valley of Ashes.

Nicole couldn't imagine anything growing, but there were stems and leaves and blooms. It was thriving. She spotted turnips and potatoes and other root plants, and George led the way through the garden.

Nicole could make out singing on the other side, and looking across the way she saw the man that she helped the other day. It was Lenny singing with a young woman, and they were watering the plants carefully. It was a beautiful, soulful hymn that calmed Nicole's prior fears. She was at a loss for words.

"This is unbelievable." And she meant it.

"It's nice to see you, ma'am." Lenny approached slowly, making himself known.

He looked to Mr. Wilson with concern. They must not have been expecting company.

"I'm sorry to intrude." Nicole spoke up urgently. She really didn't mean to startle him.

"Wilson?" He asked. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Wilson shook his head, wringing his hands together.

"No no. Sorry for the short notice sir, but Miss Caraway is painting a picture of the valley." Wilson introduced, directing his attention to Nicole. "And sometimes a change of scenery is nice."

Lenny nodded. "The valley is a beast of its own."

They stood there for a moment, observing the plants. The greenery was a stark contrast to the haze and the dirt. It was a hidden gem.

"This is our lot in life, miss." Lenny added humbly, setting down the watering can. "It's not a lot, but it's our life."

"It's this or the poor house, or the big house for some of us." Wilson explained, pinching some of the dirt between his fingers.

Nicole didn't know what to say. To the rest of New York knew the valley as a drive by area. A terrible in-between the city and the bay. But Mr. Wilson was showing her something that these folks could look forward to, even in their drear situation.

"I ain't poetic, miss Nicole." Wilson grabbed her attention, and he was playing with the leaves on one of the plants. "But it takes a lot of work to survive out here. If the plants is surviving, so can we."

She took a moment to digest what he was saying, but Nicole knew what Wilson was getting at. They had grit. They knew their onions. The people in the valley weren't weak, but the opposite. They could find a way to sustain themselves, even in the middle of what she saw as contrition.

The young lady came over to join Lenny, standing behind him curiously. She was probably no older than seventeen.

"Are surviving, sir." She whispered to Wilson. "If the plants are surviving, so can we." She corrected, and he nodded quickly, almost bashfully. Was she trying to help him with his grammar? Nicole suppressed a smile at the thought.

"This is my granddaughter, Tilda." Lenny introduced, and Tilda bowed slightly. "She helps me tend the garden."

"It's amazing, truly." Nicky complemented. "Do you think the rest of the valley could grow crops like this?" She was hopeful, taking another look at the potatoes growing quietly beside them.

They sat down for a little while and Lenny explained that not a lot of people knew about their secret garden. The smoke could likely kill off plants if they were too close to the tracks. Many men were selfish and greedy, and would take it away from him without a second glance. Or worse, someone could come in and destroy all of their hard work.