CHAPTER 3: The Crash
Once Tom and the rest of us discovered Myrtle's body, Tom and Daisy decided to leave town together. Tom, still furious with Catsby and Daisy, told Myrtle's husband that it was Catsby, not Tom, with whom Myrtle was having the affair. When I confronted Catsby about it, he told me everything.
"I love her," Catsby said. "I have always loved her. And so when Daisy struck Myrtle with the car I was prepared to take the blame. And I know what you will tell me, old sport, but I cannot leave. I will not flee."
So I let Catsby be. I shouldn't have. I found Catsby's body in the pool, a few meters away from where Myrtle's husband's body lay, a half-eaten block of chocolate in his paw.
Catsby had built up the idea of Daisy so much in his mind that she could never live up to how he had imagined her. And so, just as we all did in that time, she crashed and he crashed.
I arranged my friend's funeral, attended only by me, Catsby's father, a single former party guest who I did not even know, and servants. A disgustingly small turnout at the funeral.
All I kept thinking about, over and over, was: "You can't live forever; you can't live forever."
He may have had nine lives, but he was not immortal. He was not immune to the dangers of falling in love.
I decided to end all my relationships in New York with the people I had formerly called my friends, and returned to the Midwest. Perhaps that is what we all should have done…
THE END.