VI

llmakeapointoffindingout.” “Icantellyourightnow,”sheanswered.“Heownedsomedrugstores,alotofdrugstores.Hebuiltthemuphimself.” Thedilatorylimousinecamerollingupthedrive. “Goodnight,Nick,”saidDaisy. Herglanceleftmeandsoughtthelightedtopofthesteps,where“ThreeO’ClockintheMorning,”aneat,sadlittlewaltzofthatyear,wasdriftingouttheopendoor.Afterall,intheverycasualnessofGatsby’spartytherewereromanticpossibilitiestotallyabsentfromherworld.Whatwasitupthereinthesongthatseemedtobecallingherbackinside?Whatwouldhappennowinthedim,incalculablehours?Perhapssomeunbelievableguestwouldarrive,apersoninfinitelyrareandtobemarvelledat,someauthenticallyradiantyounggirlwhowithonefreshglanceatGatsby,onemomentofmagicalencounter,wouldblotoutthosefiveyearsofunwaveringdevotion. Istayedlatethatnight.Gatsbyaskedmetowaituntilhewasfree,andIlingeredinthegardenuntiltheinevitableswimmingpartyhadrunup,chilledandexalted,fromtheblackbeach,untilthelightswereextinguishedintheguestroomsoverhead.Whenhecamedownthestepsatlastthetannedskinwasdrawnunusuallytightonhisface,andhiseyeswerebrightandtired. “Shedidn’tlikeit,”hesaidimmediately. “Ofcourseshedid.” “Shedidn’tlikeit,”heinsisted.“Shedidn’thaveagoodtime.” Hewassilent,andIguessedathisunutterabledepression. “Ifeelfarawayfromher,”hesaid.“It’shardtomakeherunderstand.” “Youmeanaboutthedance?” “Thedance?”Hedismissedallthedanceshehadgivenwithasnapofhisfingers.“Oldsport,thedanceisunimportant.” HewantednothinglessofDaisythanthatsheshouldgotoTomandsay:“Ineverlovedyou.”Aftershehadobliteratedfouryearswiththatsentencetheycoulddecideuponthemorepracticalmeasurestobetaken.Oneofthemwasthat,aftershewasfree,theyweretogobacktoLouisvilleandbemarriedfromherhouse—justasifitwerefiveyearsago. “Andshedoesn’tunderstand,”hesaid.“Sheusedtobeabletounderstand.We’dsitforhours—” Hebrokeoffandbegantowalkupanddownadesolatepathoffruitrindsanddiscardedfavoursandcrushedflowers. “Iwouldn’tasktoomuchofher,”Iventured.“Youcan’trepeatthepast.” “Can’trepeatthepast?”hecriedincredulously.“Whyofcourseyoucan!” Helookedaroundhimwildly,asifthepastwerelurkinghereintheshadowofhishouse,justoutofreachofhishand. “I’mgoingtofixeverythingjustthewayitwasbefore,”hesaid,noddingdeterminedly.“She’llsee.” Hetalkedalotaboutthepast,andIgatheredthathewantedtorecoversomething,someideaofhimselfperhaps,thathadgoneintolovingDaisy.Hislifehadbeenconfusedanddisorderedsincethen,butifhecouldoncereturntoacertainstartingplaceandgooveritallslowly,hecouldfindoutwhatthatthingwas… …Oneautumnnight,fiveyearsbefore,theyhadbeenwalkingdownthestreetwhentheleaveswerefalling,andtheycametoaplacewheretherewerenotreesandthesidewalkwaswhitewithmoonlight.Theystoppedhereandturnedtowardeachother.Nowitwasacoolnightwiththatmysteriousexcitementinitwhichcomesatthetwochangesoftheyear.Thequietlightsinthehouseswerehummingoutintothedarknessandtherewasastirandbustleamongthestars.OutofthecornerofhiseyeGatsbysawthattheblocksofthesidewalksreallyformedaladderandmountedtoasecretplaceabovethetrees—hecouldclimbtoit,ifheclimbedalone,andoncetherehecouldsuckonthepapoflife,gulpdowntheincomparablemilkofwonder. HisheartbeatfasterasDaisy’swhitefacecameuptohisown.Heknewthatwhenhekissedthisgirl,andforeverwedhisunutterablevisionstoherperishablebreath,hismindwouldneverrompagainlikethemindofGod.Sohewaited,listeningforamomentlongertothetuning-forkthathadbeenstruckuponastar.Thenhekissedher.Athislips’touchsheblossomedforhimlikeaflowerandtheincarnationwascomplete. Throughallhesaid,eventhroughhisappallingsentimentality,Iwasremindedofsomething—anelusiverhythm,afragmentoflostwords,thatIhadheardsomewherealongtimeago.Foramomentaphrasetriedtotakeshapeinmymouthandmylipspartedlikeadumbman’s,asthoughtherewasmorestrugglinguponthemthanawispofstartledair.Buttheymadenosound,andwhatIhadalmostrememberedwasuncommunicableforever.