Over the past week or so I never had a moment to myself. Gatsby would be at my bedside during the morning, Jordan would take his place during the day, and at nighttime Gatsby was back. I told them both repeatedly that they could go home, but Gatsby said he still felt guilty, and Jordan said she just wanted to see me. I suppose I can't complain though, it is nice to know that there are people who cared.

After two weeks I was finally cleared to go home. I still had to be cautious, and re-wrap the bandages around my wound every night, but at least I would make a full recovery. My rather rude nurse put me in a wheelchair, which I thought was unnecessary, and wheeled me to the front door. On the way I asked if I could use the telephone. "Excuse me, but could I use the telephone?"

"For what?" She sounded extra gruff.

"I'd like to call myself a taxi."

"What do you need a taxi for?"

"I need a..." I didn't realize that I interrupted her.

"You've already got a ride home."

"No I..." She pushed me outside. I must say I honestly wasn't surprised to see Gatsby.

Gatsby was standing by a big pink automobile. He waved. "Old sport! Mind if I give you a ride?"

I sighed to the nurse. "Would it be possible to wheel me back inside and pretend we never saw him?"

"Afraid not." She pushed me up to the car and basically dumped me out on the sidewalk.

Gatsby held open the passenger side door for me. Then offered me his hand as if I were an old lady. "Need any help?"

"No thank you, I'll be..." I stepped half-on and half-off the sidewalk and almost tripped into the car.

"Nick are you..."

"I'm fine." I quickly reassured him. The last thing I needed was for him to worry about me more.

Gatsby closed the door after me and got in himself. There was only a moment or two of just the car motor before Gatsby started talking. "I bought this car just last week. What do you think of the color?"

"It's pink." 'Which is close enough to red so if you plan on running anyone else over it wouldn't be as noticeable.' I thought, but neglected to add.

"It's salmon." He said as if it made a difference.

"It's salmon pink." I stared at the passing city and scenery instead of looking at him.

"I had it custom colored. I wanted something that no else had, something that would stand out and..."

"I think standing out is the absolute last thing you want to do. The best thing for you is to go away, lay low. Have they found Myrtle's killer yet?" I didn't want to change to such a grim topic, but Gatsby didn't seem to grasp the severity of the situation. He hadn't then, and I still didn't think he did.

"They...they gave up. Mr. Wilson knows that it's my car, but...but I got rid of it, and since the car's no where to be found all they have is Wilson's word and they can't believe him since he's gone a...little crazy. There's no need to worry about me going to jail or getting caught. I made sure of that."

I wondered what he meant by that last part, but I figured I didn't want to know. "Still...you should go for a while. Daisy's gone, there's no reason for you to stay anymore."

After this I was a bit concerned that I had deeply offended him because the ride was very quiet for a long time. It was only when we were back on West Egg that he made a kind of response. "She's laying low. She could come back."

I crossed my arms and curled my fingers into fists. I just couldn't fathom how someone could...after all that...I just couldn't grasp it. I remained that way for the rest of the ride, until I saw my house. 'Finally.' I let out a sigh of relief. 'Enough of this self-centered...' And the car drove right by. "Gatsby! You drove right past my house! Did you forget I was in the car or what?" 'Thinking too much about Daisy?' I was going to add, but he cut me off.

"It's alright old sport. I talked with your doctor and he suggested that you have a caretaker. I felt like I should take the responsibility." He pulled the pink car up his own driveway. "So if it's alright with you, you'll be staying at my place."

I put a hand on my forehead. "If it's alright with me." I muttered and then turned to look at Gatsby, speaking with a tightly clenched smile. "Did it ever even occur to you to ask me if it was alright?"

Gatsby got out and walked around to my side. "No. I just assumed that..."

"Oh. You assumed. Well let me tell you...it's not alright with me. I want to go and relax in my own house, and if you're really so concerened than you can arrange to visit since we literally live across a yard!"

It looked like I'd hurt his feelings, but then he laughed. "The doctor said you'd be cranky after your latest dose of pills. Now listen, if you want I can have someone bring a few things over here from your house. Do you need any help getting inside?" He gave me a rough pat on the shoulder.

I had reached the conclusion that arguing with Gatsby was futile, and my best move would be to just go with it until it was over. "No. No thank you, that won't be necessary. I can get myself around. And you don't need to move anything from there to here. I don't intend on staying terribly long."

"Now Nick, it might take a few weeks for you to heal completely and..."

I stood up, with a lot of concealed effort. "And I think that I can spend some of those on my own. I've been independent for plenty of years, I can handle this too." Then I started walking, or rather limping since every step brought pain to my gut, to the large mansion.


For the next two weeks Gatsby coddled me day and night. I had breakfast in bed every morning and he always made sure I did the "rehabilitation" exercises that the doctor recommended. Even though the routine had stayed mostly the same for the past 14 days it still felt a little odd waking up in such a fine room. I wasn't awake long when there was knocking at my guest room door. I sat up in the bed and stretched. There was barely any pain recently, but I still had to take a pain pill or two throughout the day. There was another series of knocks. I yawned, before saying, "Come in." I was surprised to have Jordan sit down on the side of my bed.

"Hey Nicky."

"J...Jordan, I...I didn't..."

"Expected to see your nanny instead didn't you?" She didn't wait for me to answer and instead started inspecting her nails. "Well he had actual business to attend to. And he asked me to tell you that he's sick and tired of taking care of your lazy ass and wants you out of his house."

"Uh huh, sure, that doesn't sound like him?"

"What? Sending someone else to do the work? Like having me ask you to ask Daisy to come to your house as part of his plan. No of course not that's not in his nature at all." This time Jordan waited for me to say something, to make some sort of comment, but I didn't. So she continued, but this time she turned to look at me. "Or the part about wanting you out of here? Because I completely made that up." Then she stood. "Oh and I expect you can get ready in say...30 minutes? I'd like to take you out."

"Take...take me out? What...where, why?"

She smiled at me as she left. "It's nothing to worry about Nick, just get yourself ready."