Chapter 7: Gatsby POV

My interpretation of Gatsby’s perspective during the (unwritten) time he and Daisy were in the car driving from the hotel, but before Myrtle’s death.


A hushed twilight. Daisy and I were speeding on Queensboro Bridge, the taunting lights of New York slowly diminished as we headed towards the malaise that is the Valley of Ashes. Other cars had seen us from their mirrors and quickly moved aside to let us pass. The incessant beeping occasionally shattered me from my reveries before I was immediately submerged again in mental chaos. The growing chill in the air did nothing to stop my palms from sweating and for the first time, with her right beside me, I had been uncertain of our future.

Her face was sullen. Every time I glanced at her, her paleness only seemed to enhance against the richness of the cobalt sky. The sun was peaking whilst the moon caused her tears to shine. She had been quiet at first, her breathing heavy and her eyes moist, but after we were midway on the bridge sobs racked her body and her hands were blanched from her tight grip on the wheel.

Tom tried controlling her by revealing my deepest secrets and trying to align her happiness with him, not with me. Before all of this, she told me she loved me – that I looked so cool – but he threatened her. She thought everything she had would be taken away and it became apparent that it was too much for her to lose. Daisy, the woman that embodied my bliss, still doubted that I could provide for her. If she chose me, I would have gladly spent the rest of my life proving myself to her, that I would cherish her more than her unfaithful husband and could give her the same luxuries that he provided. But she didn’t look at me the whole ride. Not even a glance. The clean image I had kept for her was already tainted.

Once we crossed the bridge, the security of our future – the one I planned tirelessly and meticulously – was nearly destroyed. Tom had left us in the wake of his destruction. Still, I wouldn’t let that damage the hope that she would still choose me. Everything I did after all, was for her.

I came back for her and she came back to me. In that moment where I knew she was too far from my reach, all I hoped was that she would again, come back to me.




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