June 22nd, 1922
Nine years went by. Neither Rose Dawson or Jack knew of each other's survival. Despite the pain, the sorrow and the heartache: life went on. The earth does not stop turning for anybody, even for lovers. On the anniversary of Titanic's demise, Jack began to realize this. He wanted Rose back more than anything – though he realized death couldn't ever me reversed. Just hours before this realization started setting in, he'd dropped off his sketches at Henry William Alice's place. His future seemed to be heading to a brighter, more comfortable place – but when Jack sat by the shore that night, staring across the dark blue of the North Atlantic, the waves of which had claimed the love of his life exactly one year earlier, he couldn't help but feel terribly alone.
So he took out his sketchbook – and he drew Rose again, one last time. He wanted to make sure he still remembered her. Her soft, red curls. Her eyes, with their shades of silver and blue. Her hands. He drew her as best he could. For the rest of that night, Jack spent his time looking at the drawings he'd made of her in the past year. When the morning came, Jack realized he had to let go. He would want Rose to move on. He would want her to find happiness, even if it weren't with him. She'd never get that chance. Her body lay in a place where it would always be dark and cold. She'd never see the sun rise again, or feel the warmth of sunrays on her cheeks. She'd never be able to do the things they talked about, so Jack decided he'd do it for her.
He carefully tore out the sketches, held his hand out and watched the paper sheets dance in the wind. He caught her eyes looking at him.. right before he let the sketches slip from his hands. They drifted peacefully for a while – unaware of the fate that Jack had just bestowed upon them. The wind softly blew them further and further, out onto the ocean until finally – they grazed the waves and drowned.
And Jack tried to move on.
His work built him an empire.
Through Henry Alice's efforts and business savvy ways, Jack began to sell sketches and paintings. He grew more and more popular and after two years, New York's finest elite were waiting in line for one of his pieces. Jack made money like he'd never made before. With his very first paycheck, he bought him and Pete a bottle of the finest rum in New York – which they finished in the park, along with a set of two Cuban cigars. When Jack's paycheck started to grow, he decided to completely let go off his past. He felt that it was time. Jack Dawson, though it was a name that he had held dear, was also a name entangled with a dark, painful past. He felt it was wearing him down. It prevented him from moving on and as a result, Jack Dawson became Jay Gatsby.
Now.. Jay Gatsby fell in New York's good graces. Women adored him and men wanted to be him. They bought his paintings, they bought his sketches, they bought anything as long as it had his name on it. The least of his works was still accepted as an absolute wonder. Jay Gatsby could do no wrong.
And so.. the empire grew. It expanded. Jay Gatsby became a true artist, a businessman - and an official member of New York's elite. The man who was always considered a third class citizen, a sore in the eyes of the rich, developed a taste for the finer things in life. In 1920, Jay bought a 12 bedroom mansion in West Egg of Long Island – home to the wealthy upper class. That same year, he met a beautiful, rich young woman at an exposition – someone to stand by his side no matter what. The final puzzle piece to Jay's otherwise perfect life. Daisy Fay.
He married her in the spring of the following year – and Jack Dawson is never spoken of again.
And as Jay Gatsby, reborn, made his presence known and permanent in New York – Rose Dawson moved to California and became a true icon. A theatre actress. Accompanied by her maid and friend Jenny, Rose made her all of her dreams come true. She rode a horse along the Santa Monica shore, she flew a plane, she played on California's most prominent stages and finally: she dared to fall back in love. A certain Jonathan Calvert, renowned businessman, managed to piece her heart back together, though Rose accepted it would never truly beat the same. The young couple decided to move back to Jonathan's home in New York and shortly after, Rose Dawson falls pregnant with the couple's first child. Only weeks after this discovery, they engage to be married.
It is remarkable how close you can be to something you so desperately want without ever realizing it.
For nearly ten years, these seemingly star crossed lovers were left to believe they'd lost the love of their life forever. But then the afternoon of June 22nd, 1922 set in motion a series of happenings that made their paths intertwine.
Jay stood in front of the bedroom mirror, fixing the sleeves of his black Italian suit when the young and ever-joyous Daisy came walking in. She lovingly put her hands on his shoulders, stood up on her toes, kissed him on the cheek and walked over to her jewelry box, taking out a pair of emerald earrings Jay had gifted her for their one year anniversary.
''Darling?''.
Jay, seemingly distracted by a pair of gilded buttons, responded with an ''hmm?''. Whenever she called him darling, there was something that she wanted from him.
''Remember that play I told you about last week?'', the young woman smiled. She walked towards the mirror, stood next to her husband and felt on her earlobe, pressing it softly between her thumb and fingers.
Jay smirked.
''I do'', he answered, turning to her – and his wife's eyes lit up.
''Well!'', she exclaimed, suddenly twice as excited. ''I've been wanting to go with you for ages and it's playing tonight. I know you're very busy and I know that you and Henry have a lot of art-related business to discuss, but I would love it if you could make some time for me''.
Art-related business. Jay scoffed. Softly, so she wouldn't hear.
He scratched his head, slowly squeezed his eyes together and watched his wife put in her earrings. Indeed, he did have a lot of business to discuss with Henry. Though their partnership had lasted over the past nine years, their relationship had definitely changed. They had become friends. More importantly, they'd become equals.
''Fine'', Jay finally said, nodding his head. ''I'll take you to that damn play''.
A scream that sounded more like an excited yelp escaped from Daisy Fay's throat and she happily clapped her hands together, grabbing her husbands face and planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. ''You'll love it!'', she smiled, softly squeezing his arm. ''There's this new actress.. who's seemingly very very good. She's from California, I believe''.
Jay nodded and smiled, though he'd already phased her out. His mind was elsewhere. He heard her talking in the background but only vaguely, like his head was underwater. He felt her kiss him again and then she hopped out of the room. When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he noticed a look of disdain. It was as if another version of him stared straight at him, silently judging, though Jay couldn't pinpoint what for.
He brushed it off, softly tugged on his sleeve, ran a hand through his dark blonde hair and continued the day in his office while his beloved wife sat by the swimming pool with her best friend, Eliza. That was the normality of his day. They only saw each other again at dinner, to which Daisy had invited her friends. It had become obvious that their dinner table, which had room for nearly twenty people – had become a space of discomfort and confrontation. Both Daisy and Jay were confronted that despite having it all, they didn't truly have much. As a result, Daisy made it a custom to invite friends over for dinner.
Daisy's best friend Eliza became her best friend when Jay started bringing Pete and his girlfriend over. Pete Barreyfield had remained Jack's friend throughout all his success and now – he'd become Jay's friend too. He was the only person that knew of Jay's past and the only person Jay felt he could confide in. Pete's dark curls were starting to go grey and his eyes were starting to show signs of aging, but they were as full of mischief as the day the two men had met nearly ten years ago. Pete was the only thing left remaining of Jack Dawson and to Jay – this was somewhat comforting.
''Jay!'', Eliza cried out, revealing her perfectly white set of teeth. ''Where have you been?''.
Jay sat down at the dinner table, simply smiled and asked the maid to pour the company their wine.
''Doing business, o'course'', Pete grinned.
Eliza rolled her eyes. ''You two and your business. You're always hiding away in that dusty old office, Jay! How come I never see you around the pool?''. She twirled one of her curls around her finger and turned her head, almost as if she was trying to seduce her way into his truth.
''Oh!'', Daisy laughed, putting her glass of wine to her lips. ''Didn't you know? Jay is terribly afraid of water''.
The look on Eliza's face was one of absolute disbelief and after staring at Jay with her mouth wide open, she burst out laughing. ''Of water, Jay? Is that true?''.
Pete noticed the discomfort on his friends face and attempted to turn the conversation by complementing the green beans on his plate, but Eliza was unstoppable. She had a liking for the dramatic aspects of life and she was a gossip at heart. Nevertheless, she was kind and good to Pete, and he was madly in love.
''Unbelievable, right?'', Daisy added. ''Jay Gatsby, afraid of water''.
Though it was a seemingly amusing thought to his wife and Eliza, Jay himself couldn't see the humor. The two women were laughing their heads off at the thought of him trembling around any body of water and it bothered him, more than he let on. ''I suppose everybody has a thing, right?''. He tried to make a joke of it. ''Water just so happens to be mine''.
''How come?'', Eliza asked. Pete saw the potato crumbling between her teeth when she asked it. ''Surely, there must be a reason, right?''.
Jay's jaws clenched together. Pete grabbed his cup of wine, took a gulp and smiled wide. ''Say, Daisy, where's this wine from? It's absolutely ma-''. ''You've actually never told me that'', Daisy whispered, squeezing her eyes together as she reached out for Jay's hand. He didn't take it.
''Why are you so terribly afraid of water?''.
To both women, this was a mystery that needed solving, despite the obvious discomfort of the man in question and the uncomfortable attempts of his friend to make light of the situation. Jay had never spoken to Daisy about his past. To her, he was an orphan, raised by a carpenter and his wife in Wisconsin who so happened to get lucky by selling a piece of art to the right man. She'd never asked any questions. He'd never brought it up.
He realized, though, that his wife nor her friend were going to let this go. Both of them wanted to get to the bottom of his irrational fear. Dinner started to feel oddly like a therapy session. Jay wondered at what point they'd bring the shrink out to join them.
''I eh-'', he slowly scratched at the corner of his mouth, let out a soft sigh and smiled. ''I almost drowned when I was a little kid. Stumbled right into the pond across our home. I spent a few minutes fighting to stay afloat but eh.. it was cold. I got lucky. That's it''.
Daisy looked at him with eyes as wide as saucers. Unconsciously, she'd put her hand onto her heart – something she always did when she was told something she perceived to be shocking. Pete didn't look at Jay. He had his eyes focused on his plate, slowly twirling his wineglass between his fingertips.
''Oh dear'', Daisy whispered.
''You must've been terrified!''. Eliza looked absolutely horrified.. and weirdly, slightly amused. ''So how did you get out?''.
''Ladies.. ladies'', Pete interrupted his girlfriend and looked stern. ''Let's not talk about something so dark. This is supposed to be a lovely dinner between four friends. Let's talk about this another time.. a time more appropriate. In fact, Jay – let's go have a smoke''.
They left the two women alone as they walked into the garden, all the way to the end of it– where they overlooked Great South Bay. Pete pulled a cigarette from his pocket and handed it to his friend. They smoked quietly, watching the waves gently bounce up and down.
''Your girlfriend is a real pain in the ass'', Jay whispered, a smile spread across his lips.
Pete chuckled. ''Yours too''.
He turned to his friend and slowly blew the smoke from his lungs, letting it dance across the evening sky.
''Why don't you tell her to shut her mouth?''.
''She's my wife''.
''And?''.
''I want to keep it that way''.
''Since when did you stop speaking your mind? Jack, I-''.
''Jay''.
Pete sighed and pressed his cigarette out on the stone railing beneath his hands.
''Jay. This is not the way I know you. This is not who I became friends with. I see you walk from the solace of your office and your eyes just.. they stop shining''.
Jay laughed. ''They stop 'shining'? What are you, a poet?''.
His friend didn't laugh. He looked at him, confused and wondering when his friend had changed to someone so.. pretentious. He hadn't noticed the changing while it happened but now he started to realize that his friend, Jack Dawson, was forever gone.
''I'm getting real tired of this Jay bullshit, you know that?! You can't convince me that you're happy, mate! No matter how hard you try to get rid of Jack, it seems to me that you still have some unfinished business with the guy''.
''Well, what am I supposed to do, huh?! Throw this all away? Tell Daisy I've been lying to her for as long as she's known me? You know what that could cost me?'', Jay answered with equal frustration.
''A lot'', Pete admitted. ''But you'd have yourself back''.
Pete had watched his once outspoken, fearless friend become a careful, pretentious man. Everything was all about money, about keeping Daisy happy, about having a beautiful home, about fitting in. Jack Dawson wasn't like that. Jack Dawson cared no more about money than he cared about mud. He cared about living to the fullest. He cared about art. He cared about friendship.
''I think it's best if I go home'', he finally said. ''I'll see you later, Jay''.
As Pete walked away and disappeared back into the huge, empty house, Jay smoked the last of his cigarette and looked at the sun going down. Lots of things were running through his mind, but he hadn't the courage to say any of it out loud and at that point, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, his friend was right. The house, the money, the cars, the girl – Jay had valued it more than himself. He'd found a purpose and had become lost in it, desperately trying to stay busy, to keep moving. But at what cost?
He still wondered this when his 1922 Rolls-Royce drove into the city - his talkative, cheery wife right by his side.