Back in 1922, when I was 18 I used to
talk to this soldier named Jay Gatsby in my white roadster. Things were fine
until my mother found me packing my bags to go to New York to say good-bye to
Gatsby, who was going overseas. She wouldn’t let me go so I refused to speak to
my family for weeks.
The
following year. I was so happy, happier than ever before. I had a debut after
the armistice and in February I was presumably engaged to a man from New
Orleans. But in June I married a wealthy man named tom Buchanan of Chicago. The
day before my wedding tom gave me a string of pearls that valued at $350,000!!
Jordan says I got drunk that day and that I said funny things and cried. Though the next three months tom and I went
to the South Seas. I remember sitting on the sand with tom’s head in my lap and
I used to rub my fingers over his eyes. Those were the good days until…tom ran
into a wagon and ripped a front wheel off his car. Come to find out there was a
girl from the Santa Barbara hotel with him. Her arm is broken so it made the
papers.
Then
the next April, we had a little girl and that’s when tom and I went to France
for a year. Later we settled in Chicago. Then about 6 weeks ago I heard the
name Gatsby for the first time in years and it later came to me that Gatsby was
the man I used to know—the soldier. I wonder if I’ll see him again.