"She was incurably dishonest… I suppose she had begun dealing in subterfuges when she was very young in order to keep that cool, insolent smile turned to the world and yet satisfy the demands of her hard, jaunty body."
To a young Jordan Baker, the idea of lying was as strange and perplexing as it was completely, utterly, and entirely, ridiculous. The truth was certain and indisputable, and as a child Jordan saw no logical reason to avert or obscure it, after all, being dishonest could not alter the past, nor could it lead to anything other than the inevitable ramification that accompanies deceit. It was this rationality, as a naïve child yet to be corrupted by the grim reality of the world around her, which led her to make a promise to herself never to lie. A promise, which although she may have failed to uphold, had been made sincerely, with the utmost honourable and true intentions.
You see, Jordan Baker came from wealth and riches, growing up surrounded by luxury and affluence, living in a mansion tall enough to shade her from seeing the poverty and corruption that existed in the hearts and homes of those less fortunate than herself in Louisville. This, of course, was a blessing, a cushioned childhood which protected her from reality, allowing her to flourish in beautiful ignorance, without sadness and without fear. Jordan would later come to realise that this domicile, a facade of money and false security, was the first lie she ever knew, disguised by expensive architecture and guarded by extravagant golden gates, which kept the darkness of the outside world at bay, but could not keep out the depravity that lived within. Most would assume that a person with Jordan's perfect upbringing could have no possible idea of the evil that leads one person to deceive another, however this, was not the case. For sometimes it is those who appear the most fortunate who endure the most misfortune, and the assumption that the privileged, spoiled Jordan Baker was safe in her ivory tower, was the greatest falsehood of all.
Jordan's father was a businessman of sorts, powerful and illustrious, with a reputation for employing some unusual business tactics, among other things. That being said, he was generally regarded as a good man, and one who provided a desirable and lavish life for his family. His wife, Jordan's mother, a meek, reserved women first met her husband a short time before she fell pregnant with Jordan. It had always plagued Jordan's mind, what it was that attracted her mother to her father. Maybe it was his smooth charm, a silver-tongue business man who could get whatever he wanted, or perhaps it was the feeling of assurance and security he projected, both with his wealth and stature, the prospect of an indulgent and privileged lifestyle too enticing to resist. Whatever it may have been, Jordan was sure that, at the time, it was a disguise thick enough to conceal his true nature, his confidence and composure a smoke screen that blinded her mother, and those around him, from seeing the anger that lay just beneath the surface. And while it was he that would teach Jordan distrust and fear, it was her mother who taught her to lie.
Of all the lies Jordan would be told in her life, she would never understand why her mother lied for him. 'Stress from work', her mother would tell her as she cleaned up the broken shards of glass from the kitchen floor, as sharp and painful as the string of profanities that had poured from her father's mouth when he pitched the bottle at a wall. 'He's just tired', she would explain when Jordan caught her mother in the bathroom, wiping tears and mascara from her eyes, but unable to erase the bruise just above her cheekbone, that he had gifted her the night before. 'It won't happen again' she promised, each time Jordan felt his cruelty first hand, never hard enough to break a bone, but enough to break her spirit ten times over. Her mother spoon fed her an endless stream of excuses, justifications for his actions that provided no reassurance, and while intended to make her feel better, were nothing more than her mother's attempt to ease her conscience for never leaving. She could never comprehend her mother's loyalty to her husband, unwavering and from a place of desperation and fear, but it was more painful than any harm her father could ever inflict on her.
Of course Jordan believed these lies, for a while at least, because why would a young innocent child believe anything else? She had to tell herself that her mother was telling her the truth, and her father really loved her, how else could she sleep at night, with a father who saw her as nothing more than an aggravation, and a mother who was more attached to the designer clothes on her back than her own child. However years passed, and slowly Jordan came to the realization that people weren't supposed to express their feelings through their fists, and children were supposed to be afraid of the monster under their bed, not the one in the room next door.
She did try to tell somebody once, in case you're wondering, reached out, like the posters say, only to be ridiculed and ignored. They called her attention seeking, a spoiled brat so bored with her fancy life that she fabricated a story of abuse. They called her ungrateful. They called her a liar. Ironic, isn't it? The girl who never lied, honest and true at heart, called a liar, for telling the truth. Her father threatened her, of course, swore to kill both Jordan and her mother if she tried anything like this again, and it was then that Jordan learned the consequences of honesty. While she used to believe that the truth was decent and righteous, and lies were evil, it was as if the line that separated the two had blurred. She had learned that the truth was just as corruptible as those who perverted it, and that you cannot survive through honesty in a world full of liars.
Despite this realisation, it wasn't until the funeral when she finally broke her vow to truthfulness. It was only a few weeks after that tragic event, the dreadful accident which had taken the lives of a successful business man and his beautiful wife, leaving behind their beloved teenage daughter.
Hundreds gathered at the church, a room full of strangers weeping for people who they hadn't given a single thought to in years, fake tears and stale memories flowed as abundantly as the half-hearted condolences they conveyed to Jordan for her loss. She had intended to use the eulogy to release the anger and bitterness she had carried her whole childhood, a cathartic expulsion of years of built up resentment that would liberate her from her past, to tell everybody who her parents truly were. Standing behind the lectern, she gazed down upon the crowd who sat silently in anticipation, expecting the broken, orphaned girl's sadness and grief to overcome her as she spoke about her treasured parents. Ready to expose the truth, she opened her mouth to speak, however the words were reserved from escaping by some unexplainable and unprecedented conviction, and for some strange reason, Jordan chose to remain discreet. She chose to lie.
It wasn't until the last guest had left and the heavy wooden doors had closed behind them, that Jordan Baker felt a smile stretch across her face. Wild, uncontrollable laughter echoed in the vast, empty space as the anger left her jaunty body with each sound that escaped her lips. Any reasonable person would have labelled this a typical example of grief, a shocking but understandable method of coping with the affair. The truth, however, the whole and honest truth, was that she was finally at peace.
Jordan was, at last, free from the tyranny which had kept her captive for so long, however, the weight of her dishonesty would forever anchor her to the past she longed to escape, and she would carry her lies with her, always.