Thirty.
Thirty years on this earth and what have I got to say for myself? Too much. Too much, in fact, that it seems like if I told you all, it would not be enough. It had been almost a year since the holocaust at West Egg and a year since I realized that there was no place for me in balled up New York. Tom and Daisy were gone, and I had no interest in being with them in that moment nor in this one. Jordan was gone and I had no interest in finding out where she was now, nor did I want to bother; she was just like the whole bunch of them. Gatsby was gone and gone for good. He was the one that I would have interest in reuniting with, but I had no interest in dying in order to make that possible.
That summer of '22 would be just a distant memory of a summer where I felt as if I had lived a lifetime in those short months. After it was done with, I returned to my home in Minnesota. I gave up my career as a bondsman and decided to return to where I would not be alone and where life went on at a steady pace. My family was somewhat surprised when I had returned home but, nevertheless, I was welcomed back. I told them about the hasty lifestyle in New York but I kept certain details to myself. I only spoke positively of Daisy and Tom and I told my family that they were happily married and had left New York with their daughter. I told them all about Jordan and how we had parted as friends. I hesitated about speaking of Gatsby but I resulted in telling them all about my extraordinary neighbor and friend in West Egg and spoke greatly of his parties and his lavish lifestyle. I was haste in telling them about his tragic death, in which they sympathized with.
Life back home made me remember the days when time seemed to falter and innocent fun was what filled the days. The days when I was a boy had not crossed my mind for some time, but working back at the hardware store with my father brought them all back to the surface of my mind. I was content and that is how I planned to remain.
The summer of 1923 was approaching and the month of May had arrived bringing fine weather, profitable business for my father and I, and also, old company. When I had come home from the hardware store, I had received message that an old friend of mine called, asking for me. I was slightly baffled when told this, since my friends from boyhood all would have their separate lives at this point. Who'd want to bother with me? My disbelief soon faded when I was told that it was Roy Haden.
Roy was a close friend of mine growing up. He and I spent our school days and summer days together. He was a troublemaker and enjoyed causing conflict with the other boys - I had to always play peacemaker - and he often got us both into a well earned scolding from our fathers. When I left for Connecticut to attend Yale, he stayed behind and we had lost touch. My mother had written before the war and she briefly mentioned that Roy had also been enlisted. Whether he was in France the same time that I was or elsewhere, I wouldn't know. I was surprised that Roy would still be here in Minnesota, for he had always been the restless type that seemed to not want to stay put. What surprised me even more was that he would remember me and choose to ask for me after all these years of no communication. I couldn't restrain my curiosity as to why he called, so I called him the following day after work.
"Hello?" A young woman's charming voice echoed through the telephone with expectancy. I regretted to inform her that I was most likely not the one whose voice she had been waiting to hear.
"Hello, is Roy Haden at home?"
"Oh, Roy? Yes," She said in a quiet, yet still charming tone. "Who is speaking?"
"This is Nick Carroway."
I heard a faint gasp escape her and she quickly spoke. "I'll get Roy for you right away!"
"Thank you," I said after she had left the telephone unattended. I guessed that she was either Roy's wife or mistress, which would not surprise me if that was what she was. When we were young men, Roy would always boast that he would have the prettiest mistress or wife in the whole country. The other boys and I would laugh at his words but he seemed to believe the idea quite seriously.
Half a minute had probably passed before a loud, high spirited voice was heard.
"Carroway! It's you?"
"Roy? It really is me. Is it really you?" I asked with a chuckle.
"I trust that it is really me," Roy said with a familiar loud laugh. "How are you, Nick? It's been quite some time, hasn't it?"
"It has and I'm fine, thanks for asking. How are you?" I asked eagerly.
"Fine, as well. Never mind about me, though. I heard you returned from New York last fall. How was that?"
"Well," I hesitated, "there's too much to tell, Roy."
"Bah, that's alright! I've got time," Roy said, persistent to get a story out of me.
"I'd rather not, Roy. Your wife would be start to despise me if I kept you on the phone for that long."
"My wife?" Roy asked and then heartily laughed. "Ah, Nick, old boy, I don't have a wife! Surprising? My sister answered the phone. Don't you remember Regina?"
Well, that sure made me feel stupid. I had forgotten about Regina until now. I remembered little what she was like other than her appearance since I had seen her many times when I was at Roy's home. I remember a young girl who had spent the majority of her days outside in the garden of the Haden home while Roy and I were in the field. We never bothered her and she never bothered us. I distinctly remember her braided reddish brown hair, which was the same color as Roy's. She had a thin face, where as Roy had a rounder face, and she always wore pastel colored dresses that would be slightly covered in mud when she returned inside the house. That was all I had remembered about her.
"Of course I remember her," I said a little too confidently.
"Good to hear! She still lives with us again. She was stunned when I told her that you had returned."
She still lives with us again? What had happened before? I had a lot to hear about, then. I had been gone and hadn't spoken to any old friends in so long and I was now curious as to what had happened in their lives over these past years.
"Oh, was she?" That was all I could say; Roy quickly ignored my question and continued on.
"Listen, Nick, do you remember my Uncle George's estate? We used to bring you with us when we would visit him. Remember?"
My favorite memory's with Roy took place at that estate. There was an open field with horses and there even was a trail that we would take. Uncle George would even tell us stories of his father, who had fought in the Civil War, when we would ask. The stories of Roy's grandfather made our young boyish minds enjoy the idea of war, so we conducted our own battles in the open fields. I would come home with my face covered in dirt, my arms and legs scraped and an empty stomach ready to devour dinner.
"I do remember. Why? Do you own it now?"
"No! Uncle George is still alive. He's old, but he's still here. Anyway, I'm throwing a party - a sort of get together with family and friends. It's celebration to start off the summer. Do you think you can join us? I'm sure everyone would like to see you again."
"Hmm," I thought about his offer for a brief moment. The last time I had gone to a party, I had spent the evening socializing with people that I didn't know would be out of my life so soon. This would be different, though. This party would be filled with those I have known and have wanted to see again.
"When is it?"
"On Saturday at the estate. It'll begin in the early evening."
"I may be needed at the hardware store but I'll try to be there," I said. I knew I was going to attend, but if I had suddenly changed my mind and decided that I wasn't ready to socialize with everyone, I would have an excuse.
"Perfect! We look forward to seeing you there, Nick. Perhaps we'll talk again before then," Roy said.
"I look forward to see everyone, too. It's nice to talk to you again. Tell your sister I said hello," I told him. Why not? She clearly remembered me and I wanted her to know that I remembered her, as well.
"And you, Nick. I'll tell her."
"Thank you, Roy. Have a good night."
And with my last words, the conversation had come to a close. The next time we would see each other would be at his party. Little did I know that that party would ignite the next phase of my life and I was surely doomed to fall if I couldn't keep myself up.