Life After Gatsby

Though I never again wanted to see the man that was the cause of Mr. Gatsby’s death, I couldn’t seem to blend in with the surroundings of New York that dark summer day.  I was making my way to the office I once worked in, walking through the crowded streets of the city, when I saw a man no older than I talking to a young, but not too bright woman.  It seemed to me that he was up to no good once again.  I suppose that even if you do feel the pain that something can cause you will stick to it because it feels good until you wind up aching again.  That must have been how Tom felt.
He leaned closer to her as she laughed, pushing a lock of hair behind her shoulder at the same moment.  My stomach seemed to flip as I stared even though I wanted nothing more than to melt back into the crowd of people and continue to the old building.  The young woman patted his arm, pecked his cheek, and then turned to walk inside the small jewelry store behind her.
As Tom turned from her to continue down the street his eyes caught sight of mine. Even though I’m sure he wasn’t really happy to see me, a small smile broke out across his face and he took the ten steps toward me that filled the space between us.
“How are you doing Nick?”  he asked politely while holding his hand out.
“Just fine Tom, how about you?”  I answered in return, putting my hand in his tight sports grip.
“Everything seems to be going just as it had before the whole Gatsby incident.  Still working in bonds I see.”  He dropped my hand and I let it swing limp at my side.
“I’ve been pulled into the business.” I replied with fake enthusiasm in my voice. “The company sent me on a trip out here to help train a few new workers.”
Tom nodded and we stood in awkward silence for a moment.  I wanted to turn on my heel and make my way from him, but something about him seemed to make me stay.  Perhaps it was the fact that he and I used to be good friends.  Maybe I secretly wished he would invite me over for dinner so I could check up on my cousin whom I had convinced myself I didn’t want to see.  Or maybe I just wanted to see what their life had been like since Gatsby was killed.  Had they gotten over the whole incident?  Did it even effect their lives any more than the few weeks they spent looking for a new place to call home?
“Why don’t you come over for dinner?  Daisy will be happy to see you after all these years.”  Tom had his arms crossed over his chest and I could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn’t want me to come to his house at all.  Perhaps that is why I nodded my head and told him dinner sounded great.
“What time should I stop over?” I asked while taking out a small piece of paper and a pen from my coat pocket.
“Is seven okay with you?”
“That’s perfect. You’ve moved since we last talked, do you mind giving me your new address?”  He stumbled for the words as I scribbled them over the piece of paper.  I knew he wanted me to show up at their old empty house and wonder where they were, as if he had played a grand joke on me.
“I’ll see you at seven.  Have a nice day Tom.” I waved before walking past him to the office to begin training.

I made my way through East Egg, admiring all the wonderful houses that I will never own.  Although I would have loved to live in East Egg, away from the dark abandoned house of Gatsby, I didn’t set it as a personal dream.  So many times we find something that we want and we hope for it and strive for it, but once we get what we want it seems like it was a waste of time.  We spend so much time building up these false images of what things will be like, thinking of them like gods when in fact they are close to nothing.  Besides, I got away from the sad house and went back out west. If it weren’t for the training business I don’t think I would have ever came back to Long Island.
I pulled the folded paper from my pocket and read over the numbers, trying to find how close I was. To my surprise I was not that far away.  I stuffed the paper back into my coat and walked up the short cement path to my old friend’s house.  After taking a deep breath and debating on whether or not I wanted to enter and be dragged down memory lane, the door was pulled open and replaced with a smiling little girl.  She stared up at me, no older than five or six, and reached her hand out for mine.  With a slight smile I let her fingers curl around mine and pull me into the brightly-lit house.
“How are you?” she asked in the little voice children her age have.
“I’m well, how are you doing?” I replied, bending down so I wouldn’t tower over her. Instead of answering she smiled shyly and ran out of the room.
I stood up, a bit confused by what had just happened.  The room was well decorated, painted a light yellow and filled with expensive items.  It suddenly reminded me of the main reason I let the east: everybody’s greed.
“Hello Nick.” Daisy appeared in the doorway the child had just run through.  The girl stood at her side, her fingers intertwined with her mother’s.
“Daisy.” I tipped by head in acknowledgement. “How have you been?”
“Excellent.  We just finished redecorating the house, do you like it?”
“Yes, it definitely reminds me of you.” I flashed her a smile and took a seat on the light brown loveseat seated against the wall adjacent the door.  The little girl left her mother’s side and climbed up next to me.
“I can count to ten.”  She told me as she got settled.  Daisy took a seat on the couch across from us.
“Is that so?”  she nodded vigorously.  “Does that mean you can count my money?”
“She doesn’t know what money is yet Nick, Tom and I take care of all that business.”  Daisy interrupted.
“Don’t you think she should be able to do things on her own?  How will she know how to do it if you don’t teach her about it all?”  I asked while rubbing the little girls back.  It’s funny how I couldn’t remember her name.
“She’ll have a man to do it all for her so it doesn’t really matter if she ever learns.” Daisy replied. I was disgusted.
“I wanna do it on my own Mommy.”  I couldn’t help the grin that seemed to melt away the scowl that had grown on my face.
“Pammy! None of that.” So, that was her name.
“She sure is beautiful Daisy, but I must admit, I’m glad she isn’t a fool.”  I stood from the couch after patting the young girl on her back.  “It’s getting late, I better head back to town before the trains get filled with the gangs.”
“But we haven’t even eaten yet.”  Daisy cried, jumping to her feet in a rush.
“Don’t be silly, I can eat when I get back.  I just wanted to stop by and see how things are doing.  I sure am glad she’s grown up to be a smart little one.  Goodbye Daisy.”  I hugged her and the child quickly, wanting to get out of the house before Tom decided to show up.
I left feeling better than when I went in for some reason.  I suppose it was because I knew her little girl wouldn’t grow up to be like Daisy.  She wouldn’t be a foolish little thing like her mother.  The world doesn’t need any more of those types of people; we already have more than enough of them to get by.