The double doors parted and revealed a man that took my breath away. He was standing there in the doorway, his entire face was glowing with excitement as he scanned the room. Once his irises landed on me, though, his enchanting smile vanished. His hopeful expression and sparkiling blue eyes melted away as he remained planted at the doorway.
The worker quickly left the room, leaving the handsome man and I alone.
"I'm sorry," he said as his smile shifted from genuine to forced. "It seems that my footman mistook you for someone else." His voice sounded so proper, as if he spent hours each day practicing articulation.
The man standing before me was obviously Jay Gatsby. His perfectly fitted white suit and sandy blonde hair gave it away. Everything about him seemed to be perfect. So perfect that it was a little unsettling.
I wonder if they had thought I was Daisy. That would explain the large smile he had plastered to his face before he saw me. Gatsby absoluteley adores the lovely, priviledged Daisy.
"It's fine," I said, trying my best to not discourage him. "Good luck on finding whoever you wanted to see." After my encouraging words, I thought that Gatsby would go back to his party with energized vigor.
What I wasn't expecting was that Jay Gatsby would fall to his knees and begin crying.
Oh cupcakes! What should I do? Maybe if I just leave... Nope, he's on the floor by the only exit.
Not having many other options, I walked to where Gatsby was sobbing and sat next to him. "Are you alright sir?"
It was obvious that he was not okay. His sholders were slumped as if there was a great weight placed on them. He looked up at me, "no, I'm not okay." A large tear ran down his cheek. He looked so hopeless. "You see, all of these parties, all of this extravagance, is for one woman."
The deep-seeded pain in his voice made my heart ache for him. 'It's only going to get worse for him,' I reminded myself. He comes so close to achieving his dream only to have it taken away by Mr. Wilson and his loaded gun.
"Every time I throw a party, I watch for her. She always loved extravagant things," he said, his voice barely understandable through his sobs. "I thought she would be drawn to my house after hearing of my parties, but she has yet to present herself."
He sighed deeply and wipped away his tears. "Some days I feel as if she'll never come. Maybe our paths were never meant to cross more than once... What a tradgedy that would be."
Does he still know that I'm here? Because he's belting out some pretty personal stuff.
I can't imagine why anyone would do something like this for someone else. Especially someone as selfish as Daisy Buchanan. I guess Gatsby can't see any flaw in Daisy though. You'd think someone as entrepreneurial as Gatsby would be able to see through her facade.
"We only were together briefly, but in that time, she stole my heart," Gatsby continued. "I'm sorry I'm telling you all of this... I hardly know you... It's just sooo frustrating to have all of my work amount to nothing. There's no one I've ever spoken any of this to before."
I shook my head, "it's fine sir. We all have our moments where we feel overwhelmed by something and have to share with someone else."
After my statement it seemed that Gatsby finally began to look at me. Not as joyful as he had been when he thought I was Daisy, but his eyes seemed to finally regard me as something other than a girl that was mistook for his absent love.
"You are a very empathetic lady," he commented. "I am glad it was you I confided in for you seem to be very kind."
Gatsby stood up from the marble floor and straightened his suit back to the perfect position it was before.
"I believe I've found a confidant within you and possibly a potential friend," he said as he finished with his suit. "Thank you for listening and keeping your judgment unclouded."
I smiled at him, "your welcome."
Gatsby extended his hand to me and helped me to my feet. "I must be one of the most ungracious hosts to ever throw a party. To force you into a small parlor room and then confess my hopelessness to you was not very polite of me."
He considers this room small? This one room is probably twice the size of my apartment back home.
Home... I wonder how I'll ever get back. This dream is just so vivid. It feels so real, but this being real is impossible. All of this is probably from the head injury I probably got when that car hit me. I wonder how bad my injuries are... Hopefully any injury I got isn't permanent.
"Miss? Are you okay?"
I snapped out of my thoughts and turned to Gatsby. "Yeah. Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts."
Gatsby smiled, "it is very easy to become led astray by ones thoughts. I sometimes spend a whole day absorbed in a dream or idea my mind conjures up."
He adjusted his hair until it was arranged the way it had been when he first entered this room. "Well, since the night is still young, would you like to partake in some of the party's festivities?"
I nodded, "sure. I'll check out the party."
"Check out?" He asked. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean..."
"Oh it's just a expression!" I quickly replied. "It means to see or explore."
Gatsby's strong brow knit together in confusion. "I've never heard that word used that way before... So, if I were to glance at you, I would be checking you out?"
I blushed furiously. "I guess so," I stuttered out. My pale complection probably made the blush seem exceptionally red.
He laughed heartily. "You slay me with your strange terminology. I've read hundreds of books and none have ever used the words you do."
His laugh was so rich and infectious that I quickly began to join him.
I don't know how long we stood there laughing, but all to soon, Gatsby seemed to remember himself and retreat back into his polished form.
"Alright, are you ready to go? I can take you through the house to the party." He opened the parlor room door and looked back at me with an excited glint in his eye. "The band's probably still going strong at this hour... Would you like to come hear them play?"
I nodded animatedly, "of course! I'd love to hear them play!"
Once I had expressed my excitement for exploring the party, Gatsby took me out of the parlor and we began walking through his mansion.
"Many of the artwork you can see on the walls I've collected over the years while traveling," Gatsby said as we traveled down a red, nicely decorated hallway. "Like the one to your left for example. I aquired that piece on one of my numerous trips back to Oxford."
"You see, I was schooled in Oxford. This painting used to adorn the primary building at the entrance of the school," Gatsby said, with a look of pride on his face. "It was given to me as a gift for my contributions to the organization."
Because I've read The Great Gatsby before, I know that Mr. Gatsy lies about his past. The experience in Oxford that he's currently telling me is greatly exaggerated from the truth.
"Or this one," he said, pointing to a painting of a young woman holding a dove. "I came across this lovely painting at an estate in Greece. The owners where more than willing to let me have the painting when I named my price."
I walked closer to the painting to better examine it. "It's lovely," I finally said softly after a moment of appraisal.
"Thank you," Gatsby said. "If you enjoy looking at art, I can show you all of the mansion's paintings next time you visit."
Next time? So, he's expecting me to come again? I don't know why, but the thought of him presuming that I would return and see him again made me smile.
"Since there's a party in full swing now, I'd much rather take you to see the band. I handpicked each instrumentalist from the finest jazbands in the country."
From the hallway we were occupying, I could faintly hear the sound of a trumpet hitting a high note perfectly. The party was in full swing by now judging from the sound of excited yells coming from the end of the hall.
Gatsby and I both began walking toward the source of the sound.
When we emerged from the hallway, we were assaulted by an abundance of party guests and the smell of fresh liquor. I had always imagined Gatsby's parties were wild, but nothing could have prepared me for organized chaos like this. Everywhere I looked, there were people dancing. The number of guests present was absolutely astounding.
"Here, let me take you to a more secluded section of the party," Gatsby offered, probably noticing how overwhelmed I was.
I nodded and quickly followed him through the crowd. As we weaved across the room, I could finally notice little details from the room. The black stone flooring seemed to glitter with every move I made. It perfectly contrasted with the golden decor and furniture adorning the room.
"I am sorry you had to see this," Gatsby said. "Usually my staff prevents things of this nature from occurring, but I sent them on that errand to deliver flowers to the parlor room... They weren't here to keep this wing of the party in control."
This room full of people is the farthest thing from in control. I mean, we just walked by some man who was passed out in a punchbowl of all things. The man's suit was slowly being stained by the bowl's red contents.
After a minute more of walking, we made it out of the chaotic room and came across the backyard.
Like every other room in Gatsby's house that I've seen, the backyard was very grand. "Do you like it?" He asked as he examined me taking in the view.
My eyes finally located what I had been searching for. There, in the distance, shining like a beacon, was the light from Daisy's doc. The green light that Gatsby so despritally looks at.
"Yes," I replied. "It's all very pretty."
He looked around the yard, his face glowing with pride. At least, until Gatsby's eyes rested on the green light. All of his previous excitement was instantly extinguished. The weight of the years apart and distance between them was obviously bothering Gatsby.
"Are you alright?" I asked timidly.
My voice seemed to break Gatsby's trance. His blue eyes receded from their glazed over appearance as they shifted to glance at me. "Yes, I am perfectly fine," Gatsby answered, his voice slightly heavier than it had been before. He seemed to notice that I didn't believe him though because his posture straightened and a large, fake smile appeared on his face.
"Come on, lets go see the band," he encouraged, walking farther into the backyard.
Even though it was obvious that he was trying to avoid the topic, I complied to his request and followed him.
As we got deeper and deeper into the yard, we came across the pool. I stopped in my tracks and began to look into the pool. The water was glistening and clear, but my mind flashed with images of blood changing the blue water to red.
There, right in front of me, is the place where Gatsby was shot. His final moments before he took his last breath all played out here, at the pool. My stomache began to churn unpleasantly as I continued to think about the fate that would befall the kind man I have become aquainted with. Just the thought of Gatsby's hopeful, ambitious nature being snuffed out by an angry widower caused my blood to boil.
Not wanting to think of such depressing things anymore, I turned back to where Gatsby was. When I turned though, Gatsby was nowhere to be seen. I frantically looked around but couldn't find him anywhere.
He must have not noticed that I stopped to look at the pool.
Great! Now I have no idea what to do. What direction did Gatsby go? Maybe if I can find the band, Gatsby will be near them.
"Hello Alice."
The familiar voice caused me to stop in my tracks. There, standing in the crowd of party guests, in full flapper gear, was a woman who I didn't think I'd ever see again.
Mrs. Tucker smiled knowingly at me. "Having fun? You should try the devilled eggs. They are to die for!"
I looked at her in disbelief, "no, I'm not having fun. At the moment I'm actually very confused. What are you doing here? Wait! More importantly, what am I doing here?"
"Oh. I brought you here," she said as if it should have been obvious.
"Why?!"
"I wanted to see what would transpire if you were sent here," she explained. "You are so familiar with the story that I thought it would be interesting to have you explore the world of this novel."
"What so I'm just a form of entertainment for you? " I asked angrilly.
Mrs. Tucker only grinned at me, "I have given you an amazing opportunity Alice. You have the chance to live in this world and do whatever you please for as long as you want. You should be thanking me!"
"How do I get home? I want to leave!" I said desperately. This whole experience has just been too much for me ro process. Why couldn't she have just chosen someone else?
"You'll know how to get home when the moment comes," she answered.
"No! You don't understand! I don't belong here! Please, just take me home!" I all but begged as Mrs. Tucker listened to me. "The thing is, I don't-"
My conversation was instantly cut off as a broad man bumped into me, causing me to lose my balance and fall. In the process of falling, I felt a wet, sticky substance splatter on the front of the dress I was wearing.
"Hey! Are you alright?" A feminine voice said.
I didn't recognize who was speaking to me, but answered anyway. "Yes, I'm fine."
"Good," the speaker said. "You took quite the tumble there."
A hand with painted red fingernails reached out to me. I grasped the hand and got pulled to my feet.
The woman that helped me had a very sharp look to her. I think no one would ever try to get on her bad side because of her fierce facial features. "Well," she said, her face parting to an almost feline-like smile. "Now that I have you back on your feet, there's someone else I need to take care of."
Without missing a beat, the mysterious woman turned to the broad man that bumped into me and pulled him closer toward us. "I believe you owe this young lady an apology."
The broad man, probably too drunk at this point to understand what she said just stared blankly back at her.
That was a mistake on his part because, out of nowhere, one of her manicured hands slapped him across the cheek. "I said apologize!" She yelled, causing a couple of party guests to look our way.
My eyes widened in suprise as a result of her actions. I can't believe she did that!
The man looked over to me, mumbled an apology, and scampered away.
Once he had left, I looked into the crowd of people around me to see if Mrs. Tucker was still there. There was no sign of her anywhere. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.
"Sorry to give such a bad first impression, but I just can't stand it when men act like pigs," the woman said as she straightened her headband. "I don't normally act that way, but that man was so full of himself that he needed a good slap."
She said that so plainly and without waver that it must have been true. Either that, or she's and amazing liar.
"So, what's your name?" she asked curiously, interrupting my thoughts. "You seem sort of lost and out of place."
"I'm Alice," I answered. "You're right about me being lost. I have no idea where I am."
The woman smiled, "well, it's nice to meet you Alice. My name is Jordan Baker."
Hey guys!!!! Thank you for being so patient with this chapter!! I'm so sorry it took me so long! Thank you guys for reading! Please vote and comment if you liked this chapter!!