Beautiful Fool
Pamela- chapter 1
I am Pamela Elizabeth Buchanan. My life was relatively normal for a girl of my status until the summer of '44 when I decided to return home.
I had spent last 3 years in England earning a Degree in English. I was devoted to my studies and had finished my degree early. After a few years of avoiding home with school, I now had no excuse to stay away. My mother has been to asking me to return more frequently the past few months.
I had gone to school instead of getting married like my parents insisted. My parents' disapproval had led to an argument the night before I left.
*Flashback*
"I've already been accepted," I exclaimed.
"No! Absolutely not! No daughter of mine is going across the ocean for some silly notion of being a writer!" Father's face was red like he was ready to strike me.
I held my ground. "I'm not going to sit around and waste my life being trophy in an unhappy marriage," I tried not to flinch as father moved closer with his arm raised.
"Of course not there are plenty of boys out there, your father and I will look for a suitable one. Just because it didn't work out with the Tompson boy-," my mother Daisy tried to defuse the situation.
"You're not listening! I don't want to marry, I want to be a writer," I stomped to my room.
I could hear my parents arguing in the room I left them. I couldn't help but laugh, my parents spend most of their time forgetting I exist. After what feels like hours my mother walks in alone. My father had probably gone out for a drink.
"Your father and I discussed the issue-" she started.
"I'm going," I cut her off. I knew I was acting like a child but my future was on the line.
"We'll let you go until you go tired of this idea you've adopted," she continued like I hadn't spoken.
"You must send lots of letters and tell us when you're ready to come home," she smiled at me.
"Thank you," I smiled despite her lack of faith in my choice.
"Yes, yes, I'll send you plenty of allowance to make sure you keep up with the latest styles and am sure you'll be able to find a good husband at Oxford..." She began.
*Flashback end*
"We're here Miss."
"Pardon," I was brought out of my thoughts.
"Your stop, we are here," he repeated. I thanked him and handed him money for the ride.
I looked up at the house I grew up in. I didn't feel happiness that many speak about when they return home-it felt like just another place. East Egg- I felt no fondness for the community. All I felt was the loneliness and lies that filled many of these houses.
"I'll take that for you miss," my parents' doorman took my bags. I walked into the lounge where my parents were with a guest.
"Pammy!" My mother Daisy hugged and called me by the nickname she had given me as a child.
"Hello mother," I returned the hug.
"It's been too long I've missed you terribly," mother said the expected pleasantries for when a guest arrives and sat back down. My mother's affections were only ever given to me when company was around and it was expected of her.
"I see England hasn't done you much good as I had hoped it would," I could see mother scrutinizing my outfit. I was wearing a plain white blouse and a bright blue A-line skirt. I liked my outfit it was comfortable and not over the top like my mother's dresses.
"Nope! Still a single writer like I intend," I smiled as the guest tried to cover up their snort.
"Sit down Pamela, let me get you a drink," my father gave me a look that told me to shut up as he left the room. I sat down next to my mother.
"Nicky, this is Pamela. Pamela this is Nick Carraway, our cousin," my mother introduced us.
I had heard many stories about Nick Carraway. More often than not my parents compared me to him and said I'd end up like him. He used to live in west egg and sell bonds before the depression. He had a falling out with my parents and moved shortly after the summer of 1922. Nick had become a fairly successful author a few years after. He never depended on his family's money and made a life for himself.
"Nice to meet the man I'm so often compared to. I'd tell you it was only good things but that'd be a lie" I shook his hand.
"Pamela," my father said in a stern voice handing me my drink.
"Nice to meet a young lady so honest," he smiled. He gave me a bright smile like I had just showed him something amazing. I suppose that by now a man in his 50's must be used to the lies that come with social elites.
My father snorted and shook his head. My mother looked at me horrified. I felt no need to play perfect daughter for them when they rarely acted as parents for me.
"So Nick, how's that writing going for you," my father spoke in an unctuous tone.
"Fairly well- Actually, I'm almost done with a new book-"
"Another fictional book I suppose?" Father rudely cut Nick off.
"I believe Mr. Carraway's books are wonderful. His books bring to light many social issues-" I began before father cut me off.
"Oh, I've read his books! Load of nonsense, equality between races and genders..." He went on about whites being the superior race. Unable to listen to my father's nonsense any longer, I stood up.
"Mr. Carraway! Come with me to see the gardens! I haven't seen them in years," I grabbed Nick's arms pulling him in the direction of the gardens.
"Sorry about my father. He doesn't have any sense at times," I told.
"Tom's always been that way," he said.
"Why are you here," I look him in the eye and get straight to the point.
"Daisy asked me to come after she received some bad news," he told me cautiously, like one misplaced word could set me off. What news would my mother have that'd be so secretive?
"Oh?" I urge him to continue.
"Your parents will tell you in their own time." He shook his head clearly indicating he had no intention of telling me more. We walk for a bit in the garden.
"I truly do like your books. They were part of what inspired me write," I looked at Nick to watch his reaction. Surprise flitted across his face.
"You're a writer?" He looked at me carefully, like everything about me would suddenly reveal itself.
"I just finished my degree in English. I've been gone the past few years and returned home today. I've only published one novel, nothing compared to your work," I blushed. I always feel embarrassed when I talk about myself too much.
"Oh-tell me about your book" He looked at me curious.
"It's about a woman that works in a factory and struggles to find work after the war," I looked down.
"It does seem inevitable that woman will be discouraged from working when the Great War ends," he nodded showing he agreed with me.
I smiled at him. My father had hated the book and everything it stood for and my mother just couldn't wrap her head around a woman working.
"You're not like them," Nick looked me in the eyes. He didn't clarify but I knew he meant my parents.
"Neither are you," I responded.
We were quiet as we walked back to the house. Nick and I spent some time with my parents making idle chitchat until he excused himself saying he was visiting a friend later.
"Pammy, it's been so long since I've seen you," my mother said from her seat next to my father.
"You're almost 24 now; it's time you settled down. Like a proper young woman," my father said.
"There's a suitable young man down the street and I was thinking-"
"Absolutely not," I told my mother.
"I have no intention of marrying anytime soon. I plan to support myself with my writing," I continued.
"Support yourself-" he sputtered.
"It's getting late and I'm sure Pammy is just tired from her long day. Let's all go to bed," my mother stood up. I nodded to her and retired to my room for the night.
In my room I couldn't help but look out across the bay and wonder what is out there. There is so much out there for me to explore-to learn. I reach my hand out as if I could grab onto the future I dreamed of for myself.
