Those Eyes
I heard the gunshot and my heart froze in my chest, instantaneously transforming the blood coursing through my veins into icy fractals that pierced me to the bone. My breath caught, and, for a moment, time stopped. My hand was paralyzed in its place on the cold, black iron of the gate that led to the back of the magnificent mansion. When my body had thawed from its icy, adrenaline riddled state of panic, I slammed through the gate as fast as it would allow and ran across the back patio until I reached the swimming pool. In that moment, my worst fears, all the terrible, unimaginable fears I'd ever had regarding that beautiful blue eyed man, had been realized.
Those two ice blue saucers had me entranced since the very moment they met my own. The gentle, good-naturedness that knit together the very fibers of Jay Gatsby was reflected through the purity of those eyes. From the moment he had me, I lost all fear of death or any other harm that could come to me; my fears melted away to only the fear of living without him. I do admit, for a while, I submitted to the social and familial pressures of marrying Tom, and I did love Tom in a way. But just to know that my Jay, the only man who ever made me truly alive, existed out there somewhere made me feel just a little less lonely and just a little more hopeful.
When I stood by the pool, face-to-face with my greatest terror, I feared all hope was lost and I had no desire to live in a world without hope. The red spirals poured out of his body and mixed into the crystal clear water. With tears streaming, I leapt into the pool, paying no mind at all to the expensive silk gown I had on. I swam out to meet my love as though nothing else in the world mattered to me. I submerged myself, took hold of him by his arms, and towed him toward the light above us. Just as I freed us both from the tension of the water's surface, I heard a familiar voice call out to me.
"Daisy? Oh Daisy, what happened?" The voice was that of my cousin, Nick Carraway; the high tone of his voice portraying the panic he was feeling.
"Oh Nicky, please help me! Help me, he's been shot! I can't lift him out alone!"
Together, we managed to lift him to the cement poolside. The wound in his shoulder didn't look as though it would be fatal, yet Jay did not take a breath. Nick palpated the palms of his hands down hard onto Jay's chest, but to no avail. He clamped Jay's nose and breathed the desperate air of life into his mouth, but Jay did not stir. Nick repeated this a few more times, as I sat sobbing, an aching hole growing larger in my chest.
I had left Tom. I had made the decision months ago, but had whispers of doubt that crept into my mind from time to time. This time, though, my decision was made in cement in my mind. Sitting in my room the night before, I thought of our plans and the wonderful life I could have with the man who never gave up loving me.
There in that moment by the pool, I felt as though my candle of hope was growing more and more dim. Right when my candle's light was dwindling to its last flicker of flame, I felt the large hand I was holding tighten around mine and my hope sparked back to life.
"Jay?" I gasped. "Oh Jay darling, please come back to me! I'm right here for you and I will be always!"
He sputtered and coughed like an old Ford Model T. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, then his eyes appeared and stared straight into mine. There they were: those eyes. My stomach turned flips. I realized right then it was those eyes that were my symbol of hope. When I thought about hope as an object, I often pictured a candle flame or a lighthouse beacon. In that moment, I realized that my own personal symbol of hope was the pair of bright blue eyes of the man who loved me with an unconditional, irrational love. I had pictured those small orbs of blue sky for years when my hope was dwindling.
The first time I heard the shrill ring of the telephone and understood the sinful motives of the caller, I felt all the betrayal and insecurity that Tom made me feel on so many occasions in the years after. In those times, I would look out at the beautiful blue water behind our fractured home and I'd picture those eyes. I'd think, 'Jay Gatsby would never cause a lady to feel this way. He is a gentleman and would look with contempt on a man like Tom.'
"Daisy," he said in a breathy whisper.
"Jay, I'm here!" I exclaimed. Suddenly, he fell unconscious, though he was still breathing.
"He's losing a lot of blood from the bullet wound. Daisy, phone for his doctor!" Nick commanded.
It was only when I arose to call for the doctor that I realized the man who had shot Jay was lying dead on the grass by the pool. Also, I realized that I recognized the man; he owned the gas station on the way into the city. The guilt and realization set in that he must be the husband of the woman who had run out in front of Jay's yellow car as I was driving us home the night before. Horror struck, I understood that this man somehow found out the yellow car belonged to Jay and assumed that he had been driving. I was the cause of Jay Gatsby's suffering.
The next few hours were a blur. The doctor arrived, stitched and bandaged the bullet wound, and left some medicine for pain on the bedside table to be administered when needed.
"Dr. Goldstein, you must understand this is a sensitive matter. When the police realize what has happened, Mr. Gatsby will be blamed for the murder of the late Mrs. Wilson." Nick explained. "Here's what needs to happen: Mr. Gatsby needs to disappear. I know you and Meyer Wolfsheim have connections in the police department. According to your first-hand account, Mr. Gatsby was shot and killed by a deranged and bereaved Mr. George Wilson. No one is to know Jay Gatsby survived."
The doctor left the house with the promise to keep Jay's survival a secret.
I walked up the elegant staircase to his room. He was there, lying in the middle of the large, downy bed. As I gazed upon his vulnerable state, I thought back to the days we had lounged dreaming of the future right there in that bed. He was strong and healthy then. I thought back to the long, amorous moments full of passion. I pictured myself looking up at those pools of blue, running my small hands along the mountainous landscape of muscles that stretched the length of his strong arms. It caused my soul to ache to see my Jay so weak, though he did look peaceful. I slowly walked over to his bed and sat down beside him. I leaned over him and gently touched my lips to his. He stirred slightly and his eyes slowly opened. Immediately, a glowing smile emerged on his face.
"My Daisy. You're here with me. But..."
"Shh Jay," I cooed. "I am here with you. I always will be, from here on out."
There was a slight knock at the door. It opened and Nick quietly walked in.
"Oh good! You're awake!" Nick exclaimed.
"I want to thank you, old sport."
"Gatsby, it is truly Daisy who deserves all gratitude. The great miracle is that such a tiny woman managed to pull you from the bottom of the swimming pool on her own. I was merely there as a breath of fresh air," Nick quipped.
"Oh don't sell yourself short. I don't know what a man like me did to deserve such remarkable people in my life. More than words can explain, I am grateful to the both of you." Gatsby's voice sounded stronger and stronger with each passing minute.
"Well, Gatsby, I require no thank you's. You are a good man," Nick said with a serious and sincere tone. "Now, down to business. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you are a dead man. As far as you and Daisy are concerned, I have arranged for one of Wolfsheim's men to drive you both to your summer home on the coast of Georgia."
"Oh Nicky, that's just wonderful! But what will happen to little Pammy?" I asked.
"I have arranged for her to be taken from Tom and she will stay with your parents in Kentucky." It seemed Nick had been furiously making arrangements while I had been wracked with anxiety and grief. "They've been informed that you went mad after learning about the death of Jay Gatsby and haven't been seen since. Of course, you will send for her to live with you after some time. After things die down in the press, you understand?"
"Yes, I understand. Thank you, Nicky," I smiled at him.
"Well, old sport, it looks like you've thought of everything! When do we leave?" Gatsby glowed up at me.
"You will leave within ten days. You should be well enough to travel by then," Nick explained.
Within the next few days, I spent the majority of my time in the room with Jay. We talked and laughed and planned for the future. It was so refreshing to love this man without the weight of Tom and of being discovered hanging around my neck. Being rid of my albatross allowed me to explore all of the facets of my love for Jay. I learned things about his life that I hadn't known prior. It broke my heart that he had been pining for me for years, but I had been too busy performing the duties of a socialite, living under a façade. This man had maintained such a love for me that he had chosen a house right across the water from mine and designed the interior with me in mind. My love for him blossomed like a spring rose. I couldn't fathom his undying love.
Interactions with Nick were sporadic and consisted mostly of the passage of information from him to me. He informed me that the day after the incident, two police detectives arrived to investigate the scene. They questioned why there was no body for the late Mr. Gatsby, but after a couple of days their inquiries had been quieted by Wolfsheim's men. An ambiguous cover story had been invented. Something along the lines that some shady characters had taken Gatsby's body in order to keep it out of the papers. There were many loose ends with the shaky cover story that were tied merely by the force of Wolfsheim's associates.
One sunny afternoon, I stood daydreaming out the window of Jay's bedroom. It had been a few days and I could see his strength returning to him rapidly. I heard a stirring behind me, and, as I turned around, I saw Jay making his way out of the bed.
"Jay! You need your rest! Please don't hurt yourself!" I implored.
He slowly and stubbornly made his way to meet me. He reached for my hand and took to his knee.
"Daisy Fay, I have loved you with an irrevocable love for what feels like my entire life. I don't remember my life before I gazed upon your beauty and spent my days in awe of your kind spirit. You make me the happiest man in the world just by returning my love. Please, allow me to spend my life making you the happiest woman in the world. Daisy, be my wife," he proposed.
"Oh, Jay!" I cried, tears of joy streaming down my face. "Oh, yes, darling! Nothing could make me happier!"
He slowly stood up and I was again transfixed by those eyes. He gently put his strong hand behind my head and pulled my face to his. He kissed me with a passion that I had never felt in my life, and I kissed him back just as fiercely. I loved this man with every fiber of my being. I longed for the day that I would be Mrs. Daisy Gatsby.
"Oh, no! But, wait, what about-," I started.
"Sweetheart, if it's your current marriage you're worrying on about, don't. I've already had divorce papers written up. All I need is your permission to follow through with the authorization." Jay looked at me searchingly, as if waiting for affirmation of his actions.
"Jay, I'm going to spend the rest of my life loving you. Take care of the divorce papers as soon as possible!" I smiled.
The next few days were filled with even more bliss than the ones before. When the divorce proceedings were completed, I felt a small sting of something that felt like sadness or nostalgia, but it was so very quickly replaced with elation and excitement. After ten days, it was time to depart. Jay was much stronger. Nick said it was mostly because of me that Jay had healed so quickly.
The morning of our departure, I awoke to sunlight pouring through the window at my bedside. As my eyes became accustomed to the light, I realized I was covered in sweet smelling, pure white daisies. I yawned and smiled. Hanging over my free-standing mirror was the most beautiful wedding gown I had ever seen. On a chair beside the mirror were a pair of white, silk t-strapped heels, a small birdcage veil, and a long string of creamy white pearls. Overwhelmed by the gesture, tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I held them back and hurried to dress. My breath caught in my throat as I examined myself in the gorgeous gown. It was ravishing. The entirety of the the dress was covered in lace with buttons leading down the back. Translucent lace sleeves reached from the crest of my shoulders down to the elbow. As I completed the outfit with its accessories, tears again came to my eyes.
"Daisy?" The soft voice outside my door was that of the giver, coming to see if I enjoyed my gifts.
"Yes, Jay?"
"May I come in, sweetheart?"
"Of course not, Jay! Don't you know it's bad luck to look at the bride before the ceremony?" I retorted.
"Oh, of course, of course!" He laughed. "Well, darling, whenever you're ready, I am ready."
"Alright, Jay! Just one moment or two!"
"Wonderful, sweetheart!" He replied. "And, Daisy?"
"Yes, darling?"
"I love you," was his response.
I smiled and butterflies fluttered inside.
"I love you as well, Jay."
I looked myself over for around five more minutes, then I took a deep breath and walked towards the door. A layer of white daisies cushioned my steps as I descended the marble stairs. When the great room became visible, my eyes grew wide and I drew in a sharp breath. An altar was set up in front of the large windows facing the water. Sheer silk curtains danced in the summer breeze. The wedding arch was a pure white trellis with silk fabric weaved in and out. Empty white wicker chairs lined in rows created an aisle that was also laden with white daisies.
Everything in the room was covered in pure white. It was blindingly white, as I often imagined Heaven would look. I was overwhelmed at the elegance and opulence of this ceremony that was designed especially for me. My eyes found Jay standing at the altar. He looked at the floor, fidgeted with his shirt sleeve, and nervously adjusted the sling around his right arm, as though he worried I might get cold feet. He was formally dressed, wearing a black tuxedo, a white dress shirt, and a black bow tie. Oh, he was so handsome, and he was mine.
"Daisy, you look just beautiful!" Nick's voice pulled me back from my daydreams. "I'm going to give you away, Daisy. Here are your flowers."
He handed me a splendid bouquet of none other than pure white daisies with small sprigs of babies breath. Nick smiled at me and offered me his arm. We made our way slowly down the aisle as Pachelbel's Canon filled the room with its sweet tune. Jay lifted his face then and his eyes met mine. The blue luminescence clearly visible even from across the room. His eyes widened, his mouth parted slightly, and he looked awed upon me with pure love and devotion. I blushed and smiled, but never did my gaze part from his. Even if I had wanted it to, I don't think I would have been physically able at that point.
The ceremony was performed by an unfamiliar man dressed in a long black robe and a parishioner's collar. Jay's vows were so breathtakingly heartfelt that a feeling of inadequacy came over me as I was much less articulate with mine. However, any insecurities about my words were cleared away as soon as I looked into the depths of those eyes of his as he slipped a delicate silver band onto my slender finger, along with a majestic diamond engagement ring.
"I'm sorry I didn't get this to you sooner, but I was having it sized," he explained.
I could only smile in response.
After the ceremony, I gave Nick a big hug and thanked him for everything. We headed out to a large black car that was packed with our suitcases and headed down the driveway to start our life together.
Our driver was one of Wolfsheim's most trusted men; I had seen him around the house often. The trip took so many hours that I lost count. We drove throughout that entire first day, through the night, and arrived around noon the next day.
Savannah, Georgia was a beautiful Southern coastal town. As we drove through the town, I admired the extravagant southern architecture and the Spanish moss that hung from the large oak trees. The road to Jay's summer home was entirely shaded by those majestic and haunting Southern live oak trees. I wondered to myself how many visitors those old oaks had met in their lifetime. The car came to a stop in front of the most beautiful house I thought I'd ever seen. It was a large, white plantation-style house, complete with a porch that wrapped around all four sides.
"Oh, Jay! It's simply magnificent!" I exclaimed. "Oh, rocking chairs! How sweet, darling!"
"I'm glad you're happy, sweetheart," he smiled.
I looked back at him and his blue eyes met mine. Those blue symbols of hope shone brighter than ever before. The happiest adventure of my life had just begun.
The End