Chapter 35
Gatsby
“You did all of these?” Neal looked up from one of my many sketchbooks. We were in my den, having a nightcap. I’d been going crazy lately, not being able to speak to Daisy every moment of the day, so I brought Neal over to keep me company. They more than enjoyed spending time down at the bar, or testing out Jules’ culinary concoctions.
“I did.” I nodded. “Most of them when I was locked up.”
They brought the book over to the chair across from me and plopped down. “It’s still hard to think that you were in prison. What was it like? Was everyone scared of you, because—” They motioned to their mouth.
“I don’t like to talk about my time in jail. But, if you must know, yes. As it turns out, if people think you’ll eat them alive, they don’t want to get too close.”
“Fair. So do you still tattoo then? I’d love to get one if this is what you can do. This shit is good, man.” They turned the pages of the notebook and flashed me a drawing of a scarecrow I’d done. “Tattoo me. ”
I sipped my drink, and when I didn’t reply, they argued their case further.
“It can be payment for helping you with Daisy.”
I raised my eyebrows and sat up fully. “Is this a threat?”
They shrunk into their seat. “No, I mean, I was just—” They stumbled over their words until I cracked a smile and started to laugh. They relaxed and flipped me off, swearing.
“Don’t do this, asshole. I’m still not sold on the ‘you not eating people’ thing.”
“I’m not a cannibal.” I stood and went to the bookshelf, pulling out another notebook full of drawings. “I am, however, very pro-cannibalism.”
“Eat the rich.” Neal nodded with a fist in the air and the conversation returned to them getting a tattoo from me. I pulled a few books out and we began pouring through them. It was refreshing to see genuine interest in my art. My mom never cared growing up. The only reason she supported me with supplies was to keep me from telling people what she was making me do.
That wasn’t the reason I stayed quiet, though.
Shame, horror, guilt. That was what made me afraid to come forward. Not fucking pencils.
The jails didn’t care either. There were plenty of artists behind bars, many far better than me. They did teach me how to make tattoo machines and ink, though, and from there, I was able to hone my craft.
“You don’t get to talk about your art much, do you?” Neal asked after they’d picked out what they wanted me to tattoo on them.
“No, not really. The only person who ever cared was Daisy.” My decent mood shifted down, as I missed her again. “She was the first person I ever tattooed.”
“I knew it!” they shouted and clapped their hands excitedly. “I fucking knew it. She’d always been so secretive about that tattoo. Our Nona lost her shit when she saw it. I asked her about it all the time and she refused to tell me anything. Ha, that’s... that’s crazy, man.” They frowned, and their face took on a twinge of sadness. “She’s really loved you that long.”
“We,” I clarified. “We’ve loved each other for that long.”
“Right, yeah, of course.” Their phone rang, and they moved to answer it. “Hey, Tuth, what’s up?”
Their brows furrowed.
“That’s weird. Have you spoken to her since?”
Triggered, I leaned in. “What’s going on?”
Neal waved me away, but I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Put it on speaker,” I demanded. They didn’t want to, but I stood and they quickly moved to do so. I didn’t like to use intimidation. It felt like I was back in jail, but when it came to Daisy, I didn’t play around. Neal set the phone on the coffee table.
“She threw up in the car.”
“Is she pregnant?” Neal asked, their eyes flicking to me. My heart stopped as the very idea was such a shock to my system. Pregnant? No. That couldn’t be. She couldn’t be having his child.
She was supposed to have mine.
I fell back down on the couch and tugged on my hair. If she was pregnant, this was all over. Everything I’d worked for, poof.
She’d never leave him if there was a child involved.
“No,” Tuth said. “I asked her the same thing. I’m going to head back over there though, because she’s not answering her phone.”
Relief washed over the room in such a hard wave I was dizzy.
“Okay, well, let us know. I’m sitting here with G.” Neal gave me an odd look suddenly. “Is that your first name or last name now?”
“Yes,” I said curtly.
“Come over when you hear from her,” Neal said and hung up. They looked over at me. “I’m sure she’s fine. Sounds like she’s just not feeling great and went to bed early.”
I shook my head. “No, Tuth wouldn’t have called if they thought it was that. Something is wrong.” My head was exploding with the various articles I’d read about Max and his friends. “If that motherfucker hurt her?—”
I began to pace. What was going on? I pulled my phone from my pocket and tried to call her, to no avail. It rang and rang and went to voicemail. I tried a text, but there was no reply. I squeezed my phone and fought the urge to throw the thing at the wall. The very idea that I could be as explosive as Max caused me to calm.
I was nothing like him.
“I’ve gotta get some air.” I went downstairs and out the front door. I went directly to the dock and leaned against the railing, staring blindly at the light across the lake. The one that matched the one on my own dock.
Green for Gatsby.
I hadn’t had the chance to ask her, but I knew it was her who had put up the green light on her side. She’d thought she would never see me again, and yet, she held out hope, casting her light into the void, a promise to me.
She never let go.
Neither did I.
I stared out across the lake, hands in my pockets, mind devoid of anything but her beautiful face. The sound of her laughter rang in my ears, and the smell of her perfume invaded my memories, as if she were inches from me .
What would I have done if there was no light on the other side of the lake?
I ran through all my decisions I’d made from the first time I’d messaged her to tonight. What if it was all in vain? Could it be? Much like the original Gatsby, was I delusional? Had I created this overblown love affair in my head? Was she as in love with me as I was with her?
I stared straight ahead until I heard Neal call for me. I turned, returning to the dock. I’d been buried so deep in my mind I’d forgotten everything else.
“Hey, Max won’t let Tuth in, so I’m heading over to see what’s going on. He’s drunk, so he’s just being a dick. It’s probably nothing.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said instantly, starting forward. They put their hand up and shook their head.
“I think we both know you can’t do that. Stay here, keep your phone on. I’ll give you a call when I get to the bottom of things.” They were surprisingly firm, and while I wasn’t happy about it, they were right. It wasn’t time to reveal myself for who I really was to Max and the rest of the world. I had to sit here and wait.
I thanked them for checking on her for me. We parted ways, and I returned to my green palace. It suddenly felt overwhelmingly empty.
I stared around the grand entry room. Every weekend, this housed hundreds of people, but not one was truly the one I wanted. I leaned against the front door and let out a large breath, when suddenly, a loud, hollow knock came from the other side.
I straightened, and when it came again, I turned and opened the door. Light poured from behind me, lighting the most beautiful sight in the world.
“Gatsby,” she sighed when she saw me, her brown eyes lighting up. My own heart and soul reflected in her expression.
“Daisy, you came.”