Many Rotten Gold
My mother used to have such warm arms. She would hold me tenderly against her chest as I would bury my face into her warm chocolate scent. The soft rubs running down my back calmed me as a small panic jolted inside me when another bang could be heard from downstairs.
Father's loud booming voice was like thunder, it made the room shake and the furniture jumped. Other voices were arguing back with him, and they were getting intenser by the minute. The tension was so thick, it made my small tiny body cower even more into my mother's embrace.
"Why are they fighting? Did daddy do anything wrong?" I buried myself even further into the soft warmth.
"Daddy didn't do anything wrong." She brought her hand over my head and brushed my hair gently. Her amber eyes seemed like the gold of wealth itself when she offered me a sympathetic smile."He just made the wrong decision, that's all."
The temporary relief that filled me was quickly shattered when another angered sound rang downstairs. Even more tension and sorrow entered in our minds, that my usually optimistic mother had a sadness growing in her eyes. Her embrace loosened and a small whimper escape from her lips.
Worry pounded in my heart as my eyes started to water. "Mama, will we be okay?" My voice was trembling as small tears were escaping from my sockets.
Hesitation flared in her eyes but her grip on me tightened. Attempting to stop my tears, she wiped off one from my cheek and kissed my forehead. "You know, my father once told me about the many worlds interpretation."
Interest and excitement replaced my sorrow. I always was a type of kid that loved to learn new things. "What's that?"
"Well, it's a theory that in every decision you make, a parallel universe is created." She explained with a rather serious face.
"Like one universe when I chose eat a sandwich for breakfast and another when I chose to a chicken for breakfast instead."
"Correct." She smiled. "You're very smart for your age."
"So promise me something…" Her smile turned into a serious line and the room suddenly seemed hotter and tenser. "You always have to pick the right choice because this is the universe we live in right now. We can never turn back in time or go to another parallel universe. That wrong decision you make would always remain so please always pick the right one."
Her voice sounded so desperate and sorrowful that she was practically begging. I never knew that my mother could ever look this pitiful. She always seemed so strong and proud. Always embracing and comforting me. Always arguing with my father when he didn't accept my wants.
Fear pounded in my heart, my eyes lowered, and voice so silent. My tongue seemed frozen so I could only give a slight nod.
The next day, my father made us pack our bags and move to the middle west. It was my seventh birthday and no one bothered to greet me because we were rushing to get out of the east coast. I didn't whine or complain about it because every time I even dared to open my mouth, an image of mother's desperate face appeared in my eyes.
I never really knew why we move even till this very day.
That memory kept echoing in my mind as I watched Gatsby slowly walk away from me. His back towards me and his footsteps growing softer and softer. Somehow my vision was blurry and my mother's voice kept ringing in my head. My fists tightened. My hesitation grew as my brain kept scanning this whole situation.
Gatsby was slipping away from me and I stood behind him frozen.
My hand began to shake remembering my mother's desperate face. I knew I had to make my choice now. This moment was a crossroad and I have to choose a path before it's too late. But my feet seemed to sinking down the ground as my outstretched arm was trembling. Should I run after him? Or should I just let the holocaust come because it's what Gatsby wants?
Gatsby's hand caressed the front of his yellow car, his fingers sliding over it's red golden surface. The metal was still stained with drops of Myrtle's blood and the metallic salty scent was still drifting through the air making my stomach nauseous. I wondered how Jordan and Tom looked as proud and wealthy as always when they scanned over Myrtle's grotesque corpse.
His hand glided over the murky liquid making his tan fingers stain with crimson, on his nails, skin, and small joints. He stared at his palm with empty eyes and yet a small hope flickered in his eyes.
He wanted to look like the murderer. No, he wanted to be the murderer for Daisy, his dream, his love, his delusion.
I couldn't bear to watch as he continued onward. Running away from me as he chose to embrace hell with his bloody hands. The red that he never created. He was reaching out towards eternal punishment, going closer and closer. He so desperately desire to enter hell.
But I knew, hell didn't deserve Gatsby.
My heart kept pulsing ice and stone into my veins. I was still frozen. Too afraid, to even move an inch or speak a single word.
"Goodbye, Nick. I enjoyed breakfast." His head slightly tilted towards mine. I caught just a slight flash of his face and his eyes looked so broken like a concrete that was once strong but was quickly shattered into dust. His smile towards me looked so sad, and his face was so pitiful that I wished he would just cry or even just let a few tears fall but no he was Gatsby, he always cared about his image too much. He won't shred a single tear to lessen the sorrow. Not even in front of me.
And that was all it took to shatter the ice in my blood because my heart broke. Broke in guilt and pity as I watched an innocent man succumb in the darkness of his own kind dreams.
My mother's kept repeating in my mind again. This time it grew louder and more intense. Suddenly my fear and panic disappeared, and my head was thinking clearly.
This moment. This very moment could end in only two ways.
And I picked one.
I headed towards the man slipping away. I caught his wrist and gripped it so tight that he gave a small yelp of pain and grunted 'Nick', but somehow I didn't care because relief only flooded in me. The tiny sliver of his skin escaping his sleeve was grazing my palm, and his eyes turned towards me with such intensity yet with no anger.
"Nick, let me go." He said firmly, but no rage was laced in his voice; instead his voice was hopeless and pitiful.
"No." My voice told him back. My hand still grasping his wrist, refusing to let this man run away from me again.
"Please." His eyes were like a small puppy's face trying to beg for food.
"No." I said once again, holding on to his arm like a life line. "Gatsby, please…"
His eyes were widen in shock when a few tears started to escape from my eyes. This time it was me who sounded desperate. Desperate for him to just stay with me. Desperate for him to never leave me behind.
Soon, my grip loosen and Gatsby escaped from my hold, but he didn't walk away; instead he looked down at me with guilty eyes. Slowly, he brought one of his hands over my cheek and wipe a tear off.
"Nick, please understand." He drawled and yet hesitance could be heard.
I tightened my fists and wrapped my arms around him. He jolted with shock as I buried my face in his chest and grasped his jacket with intensity. I had no intention of letting him go. I would never let him go.
"You're scared." I finally said as I titled my neck upwards to face his head. "You're frightened of this world. That's why you keep chasing to get richer and richer. Why you keep longing for that perfect life."
Gatsby's usual charming look broke; it was as if slowly the truth escaping from my mouth was peeling away his mask.
"You keep chasing after Daisy, after wealth, and after perfection because you're afraid the world would never accept you for not reaching their expectations. You didn't want to accept your own self, your own past, because you thought you would be hated. You thought you needed to become that perfect image of yourself, that perfect Jay Gatsby so you would no longer be shunned, no longer be hated." I kept spitting out his secrets one by one while his mask kept breaking off piece by piece.
"But you know, I don't care if you're rich or not." I buried my face into his warm neck while his arms still stayed by his side frozen. "I don't care if you're dirt poor or wealthy rich. Because I care for you, Gatsby. You and only you. The true you. Not your wealth. Not your status."
Water was slowly escaping from his eyes. They were tears of pure joys, because he longed to hear those words ever since he was born.
"You don't need to chase after your dream. You don't need to be perfect. I like you for who you are, James Gatz."
He broke down in tears of joys and returned my embrace. His face was buried in my hair as he cried and cried finally letting go off all his sufferings and pain. I gently caressed his back and smiled. He was finally letting go. Letting go of all his dark dreams and fears.
But I knew I would never let this man go because in this world full of rotten people like Daisy, Tom, and Jordan; Gatsby was my only true friend.
The only pure metal in this world full of rotten gold.
Disclaimer: I do not own Great Gatsby.
Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry I have not been updating my other stories for a long time. I was really busy in school and I didn't have an exact plan on where they are going but don't worry I'm working on it. I promise I'll try to update the other stories more. Also I'm kinda busy working on an original story but I'll try to give you guys more content. Hope you enjoy this small short story.