CHAPTER SIX

The Big Party

All summer Gatsby's fame was increasing, but it was not a good kind of fame. The hundreds of people who had attended his many parties were all telling different stories about his past—none of the stories were true.

I did not believe the stories about him. I didn't learn his true story of his life until much later, when he told it to me with his own mouth. But I will tell it to you now, to stop all of the untrue ideas.

His real name wasn't Mr Jay Gatsby. His real name was James Gatz, and he was born in North Dakota. His family was poor farmers and had never been very successful—in his heart he had never truly believed that they were his real parents. In his mind he was a completely different person. Every night as he lay down in his bed he felt troubled. His mind filled with strange thoughts and dreams of an amazing and beautiful world—it was a world much better than his. But a man like James Gatz was too common to live in this amazing and beautiful world. To go to this world he needed a new name—he needed to become a new person. When he was only seventeen he invented Jay Gatsby, and this Jay Gatsby was the kind of person that he wanted to be. Every day he worked to change himself into Jay Gatsby.

Gatz's new life began when he saw a huge boat out on Lake Superior. The boat belonged to Dan Cody, the man in the picture in Gatsby's bedroom. For the last year Gatz had been working on Lake Superior, catching fish or doing anything that would give him enough money for food and a bed. He was still looking for some work to do on the day that Dan Cody's boat sailed close to him. It was a fancy and beautiful boat. As Gatz was walking along the shore he saw it stop in a dangerous area just a little distance from the shore. So he borrowed a little boat, rowed it out to the Cody's sailing boat and told Cody that a strong wind might come soon and break the boat on the rocks.

Cody thanked Gatz and asked him his name, James Gatz answered, "Jay Gatsby."

At that time Cody was fifty years old, and very rich from his many gold and silver mines in Mexico. Cody's body was still strong, but his mind was weak. Many women knew this and tried to marry him for his money. One of these women was Ella Kaye, a famous newspaper woman. Cody had been living on his boat for five years; he was sailing around the world, when James Gatz saw him.

James Gatz felt that the sailing boat represented all the wealth and beauty in the world.

Cody asked him some questions and learned that Gatsby was smart and very determined, so he decided to hire him. Just a few days later he bought a blue coat, five pairs of white trousers and a white sailing hat for Gatsby. And when his boat left for North Africa, Gatsby went with him. He helped sail the boat, worked as Cody's secretary, and even had to help Cody eat sometimes. For when Dan Cody was drunk he was no better than a baby. This situation lasted a few years, and during this time the boat traveled around America three times. Then one night in New York, Ella Kaye came onto the boat, and a week later Dan Cody died.

Cody loved wine and women too much—especially wine. That was the reason Gatsby drank so little.

When Cody died he left some money—thirty thousand dollars—to Gatsby. But Gatsby never received the money. Ella Kaye, using the help of a clever lawyer, took all of Cody's money.

For many weeks after my little tea party for Daisy, I didn't see Gatsby. During this time I was often in New York City, walking around and talking with Jordan. But finally I decided to go over to Gatsby's house one Saturday afternoon. I'd sat there with him for only about two minutes when somebody brought Tom Buchanan in for a drink. There were three of them together, all riding horses—Tom, a man named Sloana and a pretty woman who I had seen there before I was surprised to see Tom in Gatsby's house, of course, but the really surprising thing was that Tom lived so close and had never come over before.

"I'm so happy to see you," said Gatsby. "I'm delighted that you came over. Please, sit down. Would you like a cigarette?" Gatsby walked around the room quickly, ringing a few bells, "I'll get you something to drink in just a moment."

Mr Sloane didn't want to drink anything. "A glass of orange juice?" "No, thanks." "A little wine?" "No." "Some tea?" "Nothing at all, thanks ... "

Gatsby then turned to Tom.

"I think we've met somewhere before, Mr Buchanan."

"Oh, yes," Tom said politely, but he obviously could not remember.

"It was about two weeks ago, in the restaurant in the city."

"Oh, yes, that's right. You were together with Nick."

"I know your wife," said Gatsby, almost fiercely.

"You do?" Tom turned to me. "Do you live near here, Nick?"

"Just next door." I said.

"Really?"

Mr Sloane didn't say anything, and the woman didn't talk either—until suddenly, after drinking two glasses of wine, she became quite friendly.

"We'll all come to your next party, Mr Gatsby," she said. "What do you say?"

"Of course, I'd be delighted to see you there."

"That would be nice," said Mr Sloane in a cold voice. "Well—I think we should start going home." He quickly stood up.

"Why don't you stay here for dinner?" said Gatsby, it seemed like he wanted to watch Tom more.

"Why don't you come to dinner with me?" said the lady to Gatsby.

"Let's go now," said Mr Sloane to the woman.

Gatsby wanted to go together with them, but didn't see that Mr Sloane didn't want him to join. "I don't have a horse," he said. "I know, I'll follow you in my car. Can you wait here for just a minute?"

The rest of us went outside, and Mr Sloane and the woman walked down the stairs towards their horses.

Tom looked at me angrily and said, "Where did he meet Daisy? I don't like her going out alone."

"Let's go, Tom," Mr Sloane called, "We've got to go. We're late." He then said to me, "Tell Mr Gatsby we couldn't wait."

They all rode down the road quickly. When Gatsby came out they had already disappeared.

Tom was obviously worried when Daisy went out alone. So, the next Saturday night he came together with her to Gatsby's party. The party that night had a strange and heavy feeling in the air. It was very different from Gatsby's other parties that summer, perhaps because Tom was there. The same people were there, the same wine, the same dancing and other activities, but I felt unhappiness in the air that I had not felt there before.

Tom and Daisy arrived as it became dark, and they walked around the yard with Gatsby and I.

"These parties are so exciting," Daisy whispered to me. "If you want to kiss me during the evening, Nick, just tell me and I'll be happy to arrange it for you.

"Look around the garden," suggested Gatsby.

"I am looking around. I'm having a wonderful time."

"You will see the faces of many famous people."

Tom's scolding eyes looked at the crowd. "I was just thinking that I don't recognize anyone here," he said bitterly.

"Perhaps you recognize that lady." Gatsby pointed his hand to a woman wearing a fancy red dress; she looked more like a beautiful flower than a young woman. She sat under a tree surrounded by many men. Tom and Daisy stared at her, recognizing that she was a famous movie-star.

"She's so lovely," said Daisy.

"The man standing next to her is her director."

He walked around, introducing us to many people as we went:

"This is Mrs Buchanan ... and Mr Buchanan—the polo player."

"I've never met so many famous people before," Daisy cried. "I liked that man we just met."

Gatsby told her the man's name and added that he was a famous filmmaker.

"Excuse me," said Tom to Gatsby, "but please don't introduce me as a polo player."

Tom walked off to talk with some women and Daisy and Gatsby danced. I was surprised to see his traditional way of dancing; he was quite good. After they finished we walked over to my house and Gatsby and Daisy sat on my stairs for half an hour, while I stood in the garden and watched to see where Tom was.

We then returned to the party and when we were sitting down to eat dinner, Tom appeared. "Do you mind if I eat with some people over there?" he asked Daisy.

"Of course not," Daisy answered, "and if you want to write down any of their addresses, here's my pen." She turned around after a minute and looked at Tom. She told me the girl sitting with Tom was "common but pretty". I understood then that, except for the half-hour she had been sitting alone with Gatsby, she wasn't having any fun.

The other people sitting at our table were all quite drunk. At the last party I had liked these same people, but now I was annoyed by their silly conversations. Daisy obviously did not enjoy the conversation either. I could see that she didn't like West Egg society.

I sat on the stairs with Daisy and Tom while they waited for their car.

"Who is this Gatsby?" demanded Tom suddenly. "Is he some big bootlegger?"

"Who told you that?" I asked.

"Nobody, I just guessed it. Most of these newly rich people are bootleggers."

"Not Mr Gatsby," I said, trying to hide the anger in my voice.

"Well, he must have worked hard to get this group of strange people together tonight."

"I'd like to know how he made all his money," insisted Tom. "And I plan to learn."

"I can tell you right now," Daisy said. "He owned a lot of medicine stores in Chicago. He made his money himself."

Their car finally came up the road.

"Goodnight, Nick," said Daisy.

I stayed very late that night. Gatsby asked me to wait for him until he was free, and I waited in his garden until the late night swimming party had ended. When he finally came to meet me his eyes were tired.

"She didn't like the party," he said immediately.

"Of course she did."

"She didn't," he insisted. "She didn't have a good time."

He stood there silently and I could feel the pain in his heart.

"I feel so far away from her," he said. "It's difficult to make her understand my feelings."

Gatsby then told me his dream. He wanted Daisy to say to Tom, "I never loved you." Then, after she left Tom, Gatsby and her would go back to Louisville and be married in her house—just as if it was five years ago.

"She doesn't understand," he said. "She used to understand. We would sit for hours talking."

"You shouldn't ask too much from her," I said. "You can't repeat the past."

"I can't repeat the past?" he cried shockedly. "Of course I can!"

He looked around wildly, as if the past was hidden in the trees and the shadow of his huge house, and was just a little too far for him to catch.

"I will fix everything just the same as it was in the past," he said firmly. "She will understand."

Gatsby often talked about his past, and I realized that he wanted to recover something, perhaps some part of himself that was alive when he and Daisy were in love. His life had been crazy since then; he believed that if he could return to the past and begin his life again slowly, he could learn what part of him was now missing.

One autumn night, he said, five years ago, he and Daisy were walking down the street when the leaves were falling from the trees, and they came to a place where the street was empty and white with moonlight. They stopped there and moved close to each other.

As Daisy's white face came towards his own his heart jumped fast. He knew that when he kissed Daisy he would lose some of his own power. He would join his dreams to this human person forever. So he waited and listened to the music of the stars. Then he kissed her. At the moment when his lips touched hers, she became like a flower to him and the magic was born.

(end of section)