VII

d.“Likethis?Aren’twegoingtoletanyonesmokeacigarettefirst?” “Everybodysmokedallthroughlunch.” “Oh,let’shavefun,”shebeggedhim.“It’stoohottofuss.” Hedidn’tanswer. “Haveityourownway,”shesaid.“Comeon,Jordan.” Theywentupstairstogetreadywhilewethreemenstoodthereshufflingthehotpebbleswithourfeet.Asilvercurveofthemoonhoveredalreadyinthewesternsky.Gatsbystartedtospeak,changedhismind,butnotbeforeTomwheeledandfacedhimexpectantly. “Haveyougotyourstableshere?”askedGatsbywithaneffort. “Aboutaquarterofamiledowntheroad.” “Oh.” Apause. “Idon’tseetheideaofgoingtotown,”brokeoutTomsavagely.“Womengetthesenotionsintheirheads—” “Shallwetakeanythingtodrink?”calledDaisyfromanupperwindow. “I’llgetsomewhisky,”answeredTom.Hewentinside. Gatsbyturnedtomerigidly: “Ican’tsayanythinginhishouse,oldsport.” “She’sgotanindiscreetvoice,”Iremarked.“It’sfullof—”Ihesitated. “Hervoiceisfullofmoney,”hesaidsuddenly. Thatwasit.I’dneverunderstoodbefore.Itwasfullofmoney—thatwastheinexhaustiblecharmthatroseandfellinit,thejingleofit,thecymbals’songofit…Highinawhitepalacetheking’sdaughter,thegoldengirl… Tomcameoutofthehousewrappingaquartbottleinatowel,followedbyDaisyandJordanwearingsmalltighthatsofmetallicclothandcarryinglightcapesovertheirarms. “Shallweallgoinmycar?”suggestedGatsby.Hefeltthehot,greenleatheroftheseat.“Ioughttohaveleftitintheshade.” “Isitstandardshift?”demandedTom. “Yes.” “Well,youtakemycoupéandletmedriveyourcartotown.” ThesuggestionwasdistastefultoGatsby. “Idon’tthinkthere’smuchgas,”heobjected. “Plentyofgas,”saidTomboisterously.Helookedatthegauge.“AndifitrunsoutIcanstopatadrugstore.Youcanbuyanythingatadrugstorenowadays.” Apausefollowedthisapparentlypointlessremark.DaisylookedatTomfrowning,andanindefinableexpression,atoncedefinitelyunfamiliarandvaguelyrecognizable,asifIhadonlyhearditdescribedinwords,passedoverGatsby’sface. “Comeon,Daisy”saidTom,pressingherwithhishandtowardGatsby’scar.“I’lltakeyouinthiscircuswagon.” Heopenedthedoor,butshemovedoutfromthecircleofhisarm. “YoutakeNickandJordan.We’llfollowyouinthecoupé.” ShewalkedclosetoGatsby,touchinghiscoatwithherhand.JordanandTomandIgotintothefrontseatofGatsby’scar,Tompushedtheunfamiliargearstentatively,andweshotoffintotheoppressiveheat,leavingthemoutofsightbehind. “Didyouseethat?”demandedTom. “Seewhat?” Helookedatmekeenly,realizingthatJordanandImusthaveknownallalong. “YouthinkI’mprettydumb,don’tyou?”hesuggested.“PerhapsIam,butIhavea—almostasecondsight,sometimes,thattellsmewhattodo.Maybeyoudon’tbelievethat,butscience—” Hepaused.Theimmediatecontingencyovertookhim,pulledhimbackfromtheedgeoftheoreticalabyss. “I’vemadeasmallinvestigationofthisfellow,”hecontinued.“IcouldhavegonedeeperifI’dknown—” “Doyoumeanyou’vebeentoamedium?”inquiredJordanhumorously. “What?”Confused,hestaredatusaswelaughed.“Amedium?” “AboutGatsby.” “AboutGatsby!No,Ihaven’t.IsaidI’dbeenmakingasmallinvestigationofhispast.” “AndyoufoundhewasanOxfordman,”saidJordanhelpfully. “AnOxfordman!”Hewasincredulous.“Likehellheis!Hewearsapinksuit.” “Neverthelesshe’sanOxfordman.” “Oxford,NewMexico,”snortedTomcontemptuously,“orsomethinglikethat.” “Listen,Tom.Ifyou’resuchasnob,whydidyouinvitehimtolunch?”demandedJordancrossly. “Daisyinvitedhimsheknewhimbeforeweweremarried—Godknowswhere!” Wewereallirritablenowwiththefadingale,andawareofitwedroveforawhileinsilence.ThenasDoctorT.J.Eckleburg’sfadedeyescameintosightdowntheroad,IrememberedGatsby’scautionaboutgasoline. “We’vegotenoughtogetustotown,”saidTom. “Butthere’sagaragerighthere,”objectedJordan.“Idon’twanttogetstalledinthisbakingheat.” Tomthrewonbothbrakesimpatiently,andweslidtoanabruptdustystopunderWilson’ssign.Afteramomenttheproprietoremergedfromtheinteriorofhisestablishmentandgazedhollow-eyedatthecar. “Let’shavesomegas!”criedTomroughly.“Whatdoyouthinkwestoppedfor—toadmiretheview?” “I’msick,”saidWilsonwithoutmoving.“Beensickallday.” “What’sthematter?” “I’mallrundown.” “Well,shallIhelpmyself?”Tomdemanded.“Yousoundedwellenoughonthephone.” WithaneffortWilsonlefttheshadeandsupportofthedoorwayand,breathinghard,unscrewedthecapofthetank.Inthesunlighthisfacewasgreen. “Ididn’tmeantointerruptyourlunch,”hesaid.“ButIneedmoneyprettybad,andIwaswonderingwhatyouweregoingtodowithyouroldcar.” “Howdoyoulikethisone?”inquiredTom.“Iboughtitlastweek.” “It’saniceyellowone,”saidWilson,ashestrainedatthehandle. “Liketobuyit?” “Bigchance,”Wilsonsmiledfaintly.“No,butIcouldmakesomemoneyontheother.” “Whatdoyouwantmoneyfor,allofasudden?” “I’vebeenheretoolong.Iwanttogetaway.MywifeandIwanttogoWest.” “Yourwifedoes,”exclaimedTom,startled. “She’sbeentalkingaboutitfortenyears.”Herestedforamomentagainstthepump,shadinghiseyes.“Andnowshe’sgoingwhethershewantstoornot.I’mgoingtogetheraway.” Thecoupéflashedbyuswithaflurryofdustandtheflashofawavinghand. “WhatdoIoweyou?”demandedTomharshly. “Ijustgotwiseduptosomethingfunnythelasttwodays,”remarkedWilson.“That’swhyIwanttogetaway.That’swhyIbeenbotheringyouaboutthecar.” “WhatdoIoweyou?” “Dollartwenty.” TherelentlessbeatingheatwasbeginningtoconfusemeandIhadabadmomenttherebeforeIrealizedthatsofarhissuspicionshadn’talightedonTom.HehaddiscoveredthatMyrtlehadsomesortoflifeapartfromhiminanotherworld,andtheshockhadmadehimphysicallysick.IstaredathimandthenatTom,whohadmadeaparalleldiscoverylessthananhourbefore—anditoccurredtomethattherewasnodifferencebetweenmen,inintelligenceorrace,soprofoundasthedifferencebetweenthesickandthewell.Wilsonwassosickthathelookedguilty,unforgivablyguilty—asifhehadjustgotsomepoorgirlwithchild. “I’llletyouhavethatcar,”saidTom.“I’llsenditovertomorrowafternoon.” Thatlocalitywasalwaysvaguelydisquieting,eveninthebroadglareofafternoon,andnowIturnedmyheadasthoughIhadbeenwarnedofsomethingbehind.Overtheash-heapsthegianteyesofDoctorT.J.Eckleburgkepttheirvigil,butIperceived,afteramoment,thatothereyeswereregardinguswithpeculiarintensityfromlessthantwentyfeetaway. Inoneofthewindowsoverthegaragethecurtainshadbeenmovedasidealittle,andMyrtleWilsonwaspeeringdownatthecar.Soengrossedwasshethatshehadnoconsciousnessofbeingobserved,andoneemotionafteranothercreptintoherfacelikeobjectsintoaslowlydevelopingpicture.Herexpressionwascuriouslyfamiliar—itwasanexpressionIhadoftenseenonwomen’sfaces,butonMyrtleWilson’sfaceitseemedpurposelessandinexplicableuntilIrealizedthathereyes,widewithjealousterror,werefixednotonTom,butonJordanBaker,whomshetooktobehiswife. Thereisnoconfusionliketheconfusionofasimplemind,andaswedroveawayTomwasfeelingthehotwhipsofpanic.Hiswifeandhismistress,untilanhouragosecureandinviolate,wereslippingprecipitatelyfromhiscontrol.InstinctmadehimstepontheacceleratorwiththedoublepurposeofovertakingDaisyandleavingWilsonbehind,andwespedalongtowardAstoriaatfiftymilesanhour,until,amongthespiderygirdersoftheelevated,wecameinsightoftheeasygoingbluecoupé. “ThosebigmoviesaroundFiftiethStreetarecool,”suggestedJordan.“IloveNewYorkonsummerafternoonswheneveryone’saway.There’ssomethingverysensuousaboutit—overripe,asifallsortsoffunnyfruitsweregoingtofallintoyourhands.” Theword“sensuous”hadtheeffectoffurtherdisquietingTom,butbeforehecouldinventaprotestthecoupécametoastop,andDaisysignalledustodrawupalongside. “Wherearewegoing?”shecried. “Howaboutthemovies?” “It’ssohot,”shecomplained.“Yougo.We’llridearoundandmeetyouafter.”Withaneffortherwitrosefaintly.“We’llmeetyouonsomecorner.I’llbethemansmokingtwocigarettes.” “Wecan’targueaboutithere,”Tomsaidimpatiently,asatruckgaveoutacursingwhistlebehindus.“YoufollowmetothesouthsideofCentralPark,infrontofthePlaza.” Severaltimesheturnedhisheadandlookedbackfortheircar,andifthetrafficdelayedthemheslowedupuntiltheycameintosight.Ithinkhewasafraidtheywoulddartdownaside-streetandoutofhislifeforever. Buttheydidn’t.AndwealltookthelessexplicablestepofengagingtheparlourofasuiteinthePlazaHotel. Theprolongedandtumultuousargumentthatendedbyherdingusintothatroomeludesme,thoughIhaveasharpphysicalmemorythat,inthecourseofit,myunderwearkeptclimbinglikeadampsnakearoundmylegsandintermittentbeadsofsweatracedcoolacrossmyback.ThenotionoriginatedwithDaisy’ssuggestionthatwehirefivebathroomsandtakecoldbaths,andthenassumedmoretangibleformas“aplacetohaveamintjulep.”Eachofussaidoverandoverthatitwasa“c