Chapter 6 #3
my calls, but I figure if I just show up here during school hours, he can’t run away from me.” She gave a small laugh at herself.
“Jay Gatsby, the founder?” I asked, disbelief in my voice.
“No,” she said, rolling her eyes with affectionate exasperation. “Jay Gatsby, the son.” Her voice lingered on the word, her
expression becoming thoughtful, and then she smiled at me again, her fingers tightening around her watch. I couldn’t quite
put my finger on it, but there was something there—some secret connection to Jay she wasn’t naming.
When Daisy waved to someone behind me, I turned to find Jay coming down the brick stairs. Little gold accents on his green
school vest caught pieces of the sun like bicycle blinders.
“Hello, Daisy,” Jay said, his eyes lighting up slightly as he walked up to us. When he turned to me, he swallowed, as if monitoring
himself. “Nick?”
“Hi,” I mumbled, suddenly hyperaware of my appearance, from my untidy hair down to my dusty shoes—everything felt uncomfortably visible under his sharp gaze and the sunlight.
I looked away, the sense of being an outsider among them taunting me. I was new, and they seemed like they’d known each other
for a while.
“You two,” Jay said, swinging an index finger between us. “You’re related, aren’t you?”
Daisy didn’t answer in the affirmative right away. Instead, she said, “Why do you ask?” as if she wanted to draw him into
a game.
Jay looked at Daisy and then me. But his eyes lingered on me as he said, “I see a resemblance. A softness in the face.”
Daisy looked at me, as if she expected me to say something. When I didn’t, she didn’t either. It was as if there was some
secret agreement between us that we should hide the true nature of our relationship, just in case. In case of what, I was
not clear.
“Don’t try to distract me, Jay.” Daisy gave him an expression that was half annoyed, half affectionate, as she latched on
to his arm. “I’ve been calling you for days. You never pick up the phone!” Her tone was chiding, but the cadence told me this
was their usual dance.
Jay smiled, amused. “I got busy. You know how it gets.” His casual shrug seemed to say it all, as if she should understand
his world already.
“Okay, well, we need to talk.” Daisy opened the passenger door, then skipped around to the other side to hop into the driver’s
seat. “Nick, do you want to go for a spin?” she called out.
“Oh, I have after-school things . . .”
Jay threw his bag over the top of the car and vaulted over the side, landing easily in the passenger’s seat.
“Come with us!” he called, his tone relaxed, but I caught a small challenge in it.
“We love the farmer’s market downtown. The bell’s rung, and who wants to spend more time here than they need to? ”
They both looked at me, and I felt drawn to their connection. The pull left me with no choice. I joined the magnetic pair
in the car, intrigued about their relationship.
We took off, into the noisy streets, and drove until the roads went from wide and empty to crowded with people the further
we went into the city proper. Here was the part of town where the people wore suits and hats as a necessity. They were the
advertisers and the bankers, all about their business. There were more white people here, but it was still mixed. The streets
were adorned with statues—memorials, stroked by trimmed clusters of trees.
“You coming to UNIA on Thursday?” Daisy asked Jay as we drew closer to the market.
“Won’t have time,” Jay said, looking back at me briefly to see if I was listening. “Other stuff to attend to.”
We parked in an alley by a colorful fair of fruits and vegetables. Part of the road had been closed off to make room for it,
sheriffs on horses blocking the cars.
Daisy hopped out first. “No one will hijack the car if we leave it here, will they?” she asked Jay, as if he were the tour
guide of New York himself.
“If they do, Buchanan’s got more where this came from, right?” Jay smiled ironically and swung himself into the pedestrian traffic of the fair.
Daisy followed him and I trailed after her, taking in the produce carts little by little, the labels on watermelon bins that
said locally sourced, the giant bags of peanuts and popcorn—
“Dragon fruit alert!” Jay screamed very suddenly. And he drifted off to grab the last of a pink fruit from a bin.
“How do you know him?” I asked Daisy in a subtle way, because it felt easier to do when Jay was distracted.
“We met in Garvey’s group—the UNIA,” she answered. “It’s empowerment. We do book clubs, art shows, cabarets. All in the community
who believe in true liberation from the powers that be are welcome!”
“Ah yes, Garvey,” I said. “I’m familiar. Pa used to get his papers sent to us.” Marcus Garvey was a speaker who’d attracted
good and bad attention for his theory that living separate from white people would help Negroes more than living among them.
“So, have you met Garvey too?” I asked her as we sauntered through the market.
“In passing,” Daisy said. “I mostly go to UNIA because it’s nice to be part of something that feels bigger than myself. And
bigger than high school trifles, you know?” She looked at Jay as if he were the trifle. He was busy inspecting a stall of
exotic fruits.
“How long have you known him?” I asked. “Jay, I mean.”
Daisy glanced back at me. Her eyes were somewhat evasive. “A while. Why?”
“You seem close,” I said. “I mean, you two fit together.”
“Fit together?” Daisy’s expression turned briefly pensive before slipping back into its usual light air. “Jay and I both have
big ambitions and he’s useful to know—that’s all.”
Her words only deepened my curiosity. What ambitions?
She laughed softly as she saw my mind turning, and she rubbed my back with a supportive hand. “You think so much, Nick! I
have to go and ask Jay something now, but look around. Enjoy the sights! Enjoy the market!”
I stayed back as she scurried off, pretending to admire the produce, but my eyes lingered on the two of them. They shared
something—a history, a purpose.
Daisy’s hand almost brushed his arm as she whispered something to him, and Jay leaned in to catch her words, his expression
turning serious. What was the perfect pair talking about, and why did they need to leave me out of it?
Who was Daisy beyond the playful surface—and what kind of life did the charming Jay Jr. lead when he wasn’t playing schoolboy
adventures?
Jay eventually wandered off, disappearing into a crowd clustered around a cart of imported chocolates. “I used to love these
as a kid!” he called out, leaving Daisy standing amid the bustle of the market.
She wandered back to me, her smile dimming some as she studied my expression. “What’s on your mind, Nick?”
I hesitated, unsure where to start. “I’ve just been wondering . . . is everything okay with you?”
Her brow furrowed, just slightly, but she didn’t laugh off the question. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know,” I said, but my mind circled back to the night she snuck out. My night ended with Jay in the juice joint, but
hers carried on, beyond the freight yard, and who knows what happened next? “It’s just . . . you’ve done a lot to help me
get settled here and if there’s any way I can return the favor, I’d love to.” I gestured vaguely to the market, the people
and their quiet transactions, around us. “This is all lovely, by the way.”
“I thought you’d like it.” She reached out to tenderly adjust the lapel of my jacket. She looked at me with a sweet smile,
and for a moment I saw the Daisy I remembered from years ago—the one who used to bake cakes with me in Grandma’s kitchen,
laughing as we tasted batter when no one was looking. “I appreciate the support, Nick. But I’m fine. Honest.”
“I only worry about you. After midnight, when you’re by yourself, things can turn. I’ve seen it happen.”
Daisy’s eyes widened for a moment but then returned to normal just as quick. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Nick.” She squeezed
my arm. “I’m usually tucked into bed before trouble can find me.”
Daisy then looked off toward where Jay was talking playfully to a merchant, a clear dismissal. Whatever happened that night,
whatever bond she and Jay shared, neither was meant for me to understand—not yet.
But one thing was for sure—in New York, staying small wasn’t an option. This rumble in my belly told my bones I was meant for far more than what I had. Daisy and Jay moved through the world like two birds of prey, flying over a whole tundra that was theirs for the taking!
And me? I was still sprouting my wings. I’d been raised to be so humble because staying small was safer back home. Humble
and quiet kept me alive! A boy like me couldn’t be reckless—not in Greenwood, where the Klan lurked like phantoms in the woods.
Where their fires watched us like the devil’s eyes, waiting for a reason to strike.
But maybe I was due for a change. Maybe I was done keeping my head so low and pretending I didn’t want to be someone—someone
bigger than I’d ever dared to dream of.