Beautiful Fool.
On her first evening with Tom Buchanan, Daisy wore a wore a robin's egg blue dress.
As she wore many dresses, much more than most, it seemed like an miniscule detail, but she spilt a bit of her cocktail on it, so she laughed, expecting Tom to laugh also, but she received an austere firming of his lips that shocked her.
Tom, she soon found, was the sort of man who ordered for her in the restaurant, and only gave her as much as she needed for the powder room. He arranged their meetings, and he ended them. For the first time since she relied solely on her father, a man would tell her what to do. He wouldn't bend to her, wouldn't chase her. He was different from the other men; she could tell from the way he fit into his track suit.
Often times, throughout her adolescence, Daisy had a recurring dream: she sat alone in a tea room, the likes of which she did not recognize, and sat by the window in a white dress, watching the orange sun on the horizon, neither rising nor setting. It was not cold, she told herself. The sun had not set, and it was not cold at all. But in that lukewarm room of hers, that tepid room that she could not identify, she began to cry. The sun would not move. When she met Tom, that dress became blue.
Such a strong, sinewy man Tom was, though, and when he asked her to marry him, Daisy thought that she might invite him into that room. Jay was far away in a Neverland where she would never be, and Tom stood in front of her with his hand on her wrist and more money than the two of them would ever need. She considered her future, though it didn't take long; she was a beautiful woman, and he was a fine specimen of man. He would not be beautiful forever, though neither would he, and she figured that they would both become wrinkled at the same time. She thought, what more could she have from life?
And that question was answered in the form of alcohol, partying, and an era of chambré existence. A long time passed wherein she innerly accepted the necessary cheating exploits in a game of golf and learned that Myrtle could be an attractive name.
I'm no fool, she would tell herself, as she folded her dress over in the mirror to replicate a hanging belly. She thought to herself that life would be much better if she were.