Neither Here Nor There

My cousin Nick is coming over today. It will be good to catch up with him. And I can show off my baby girl to him. Yes, it will be fun. Jordan is already here; we’re just waiting for Nick now. It will be good for them to meet, Nick and Jordan. They should have a lot to talk about despite their differences. Maybe that’s why they’ll have a lot to talk about in the first place: they have differing views. I suppose we’ll see tonight.

“Daisy!” called Tom from the other room, waking me from my reverie. What does he need now? “Daisy!” he called again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I replied back hastily, as I headed into the main room where his voice originated. When I entered the room, I saw he was trying to rearrange the couch of all things. Jordan was simply watching him, impatiently bemused. “Why on Earth are you doing that for?” I questioned him indignantly.

“I want our living room to have a fresh take,” Tom said in between gasps for air, struggling to move the enormous couch. A fresh take? What does that mean? I didn’t know…



“Okay,” I answered back, helping him push the sofa across the room so it was situated in the corner. I felt my arms strain as I struggled to shove it toward the corner. It was a heavy couch, and it required a great deal of strength to move it.

As soon as the sofa was where he wanted it, Tom let out a throaty sigh. “There,” he said, satisfied with his work.

Once Jordan saw that we were done, she glanced about at everything in the room. It was almost like she was looking for something. I was nearly going to ask her what she was looking for, but then she seemed to forget about it with a shrug and a snort. She casually walked over to the newly located couch and sat back down on it. Meanwhile, Tom brushed past Jordan as he made his way to the doorway.

I sat down on the couch with Jordan. “Let’s go somewhere today. Let’s do something fun,” I said, leaning toward her eagerly.

Jordan turned her upturned head toward me. She twisted her face in deep, perplexing thought. “Mmmmmm…” She continued to think, giving the matter deep thought. “Nah, I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to,” Jordan repeated with little enthusiasm mirrored by a dispassionate shrug.

“Come on, let’s go to New York or something. There’s lots to do in New York.”

“No thanks,” she replied decisively.

“Well, what do you want to do?” I inquired once more.

“We’re going to have dinner here, right?” Jordan asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, we are,” I replied tentatively.

“Okay, that’s my plans for the rest of the evening.” Her mind on the matter was made up, it seemed.

“Whatever you say.” I dismissed it with a sigh.

On top of this, Jordan seemed very tense and anxious.

Just then, Nick and Tom walked in, letting the wind whip everything up off their neat little perches. Then Tom shut the windows, and everything settled back into their appropriate places.

I hoisted myself up off the couch. I’m so glad Nick is here! So glad, in fact, that I started giggling; He laughed too. I walked toward Nick and took his hands in mine.

“I’m p-paralyzed with happiness… He he he.” I couldn’t help but smile and grin and beam some more.

“That girl over there…” I muttered to Nick. “Her name is Baker.” I smiled one last time, then let his hand go. He observed Jordan inquisitively. She still appeared very stiff and uptight.

“So Nick,” I began. “What have you been up to? Where have you been? What have you seen on your way to West Egg?”

Nick smiled benevolently before giving his answer. “I stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way east. Your parents, mine, our grandparents, and all our other cousins asked me to send you their love.”

“Do they miss me?”

“The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath, and there’s a persistent wail all night along the North Shore.”

“How gorgeous! Let’s go back, Tom. Tomorrow!” Tom didn’t seem to be listening, but then I remembered: I wanted Nick to see my baby girl. I turned to him and said, “You ought to see the baby.”

“I’d like to.”

“She’s asleep. She’s two years old. Haven’t you ever seen her?”

“Never.”

“Well, you ought to see her. She’s—”

I saw Tom reappear next to Nick. He rested his hand on Nick’s shoulder, and asked him, “What you doing, Nick?”

“I’m a bond man.”

“Who with?”

Nick answered with the name of a person and their company.

“Never heard of them,” Tom replied definitively.

Now Nick seemed somewhat tightly wound. “You will. You will if you stay in the East,” he replied quickly.

“Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry.” He quickly glanced at me, then back at Nick. “I’d be a God Damned fool to live anywhere else.”

“Absolutely!” Jordan suddenly cried from behind me. I had almost forgotten about her. Both Nick and Jordan were surprised by this. Jordan yawned, quickly got up off the couch, and further edged her way into the room.

“I’m stiff. I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember,” she said shortly.

I was almost offended by this. “Don’t look at me! I’ve been trying to get you to New York all afternoon.”

“No thanks.” She was at the pantry now, looking in at the four cocktails. “I’m absolutely in training.”

Tom eyed her suspiciously. “You are!” He hastily set his drink down on a nearby table. “How you ever get anything done is beyond me.” He seemed upset.

At this, Nick studied Jordan once more. In reply, she asked him—or rather, told him— “You live in West Egg.”

“I don’t know a single—” he began to say.

“You must know Gatsby.”

“Gatsby?” I involuntarily heard myself chirp. “What Gatsby?” I might as well just let myself go now that I’ve already said his name. I saw that Nick was about to answer, but then dinner was announced.

I felt myself disinterestedly walking over toward the porch. Gatsby…? Could it be that Gatsby? No, I told myself. I’ll deal with this later. Now is not the time for foolish pastimes. Now it is time for dinner. I was good for now. I can deal with this later, but now it’s time for dinner.

On the table there were four flickering candles. “Why CANDLES?” I asked, quickly smothering out the flames they were sustaining. “In two weeks it’ll be the longest day in the year. Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.”

“We ought to plan something,” Jordan said wearily as she slid into a chair at the table.

Now I was satisfied. “All right, what’ll we plan?” I said, trying to establish this thing once and for all. “What do people plan?” I asked Nick.

Suddenly I saw that the knuckle of my little finger was bruised black and blue. “Look!” I held it up to see. “I hurt it.” Everyone looked. “You did it, Tom.” He seemed disinterested as usual. “I know you didn’t mean to but you DID do it. That’s what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great big hulking physical specimen of a—”

“I hate that word hulking.” Now he was interested. “Even in kidding.”

“Hulking” I said, with special care to articulate the word very precisely.

From there, the evening seemed to go on as normally as it could. I simply talked with Jordan about things. Dinnertime chatter, I suppose. But as it went on and on, I could feel my innards becoming increasingly agitated at the thought of Gatsby living so near to Nick. Just wait it out, then you can react all you want. Wait until after dinner, until after everyone’s gone home.

On his second glass of wine, Nick told me, “You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy. Can’t you talk about crops or something?”

Suddenly Tom exclaimed, “Civilization’s going to pieces!” I couldn’t think of an answer fast enough. “I’ve gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things,” he continued. “Have you read ‘The Rise of the Coloured Empires’ by this man Goddard?”

“Why, no,” Nick answered rather casually.

“Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don’t look out, the white race will be—will be utterly submerged. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved.”

“Tom’s getting very profound,” I said plainly, for there was nothing else to add about his odd habit. “He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we—”

“Well, these books are all scientific,” he repeated, turning toward me. “This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It’s up to us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will have control of things.

“We’ve got to beat them down,” I whispered jokingly with a wink at Nick.

“You ought to live in California—” interjected Jordan quickly.

“This idea is that we’re Nordics,” Tom continued, ignoring her. “I am, and you are and you are and—” He gave a small nod toward me, and I winked in Nick’s direction again. “—and we’ve produced all the things that go to make civilization—oh, science and art and all that. Do you see?”

Just then, the telephone rang from inside, and the butler left the porch to answer it. I leaned toward Nick and whispered, “I’ll tell you a family secret. It’s about the butler’s nose. Do you want to hear about the butler’s nose?”

“That’s why I came over tonight.”


I could feel the smile spreading on my face. “Well, he wasn’t always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from morning till night until finally it began to affect his nose—”

“Things went from bad to worse,” Jordan added.

“Yes. Things went from bad to worse until finally he had to give up his position.” I sat back down in my seat, smiling and satisfied with the story I told.

The butler came back out and whispered something in Tom’s ear. In reply, Tom frowned, pushed his chair in, and went inside.

Meanwhile, looking at Nick in the final remnants of the evening sun, his amused face was full of lively color. “I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a—of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn’t he?” I asked Jordan, wanting her opinion. “An absolute rose?” I felt my smile slink across my face again. But then I remembered something.

“Excuse me,” I said briefly as I threw my napkin on the table, pushed my chair in, and entered the house.

I wanted to check and see how it was outdoors. I briskly walked through the house and stepped outside the front door. Just as I suspected: the evening is beautiful; on top of that, there was a bird sitting on the lawn. Satisfied and eager to report my findings, I walked back through the house and back onto the porch where Tom also rejoined us at that moment.

“It couldn’t be helped!” I exclaimed as Tom and I returned to our seats at the table. “I looked outdoors for a minute and it’s very romantic outdoors. There’s a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He’s singing away—It’s romantic, isn’t it, Tom?”

“Very romantic,” he agreed quickly. Then he turned to Nick and said secretively, “If it’s light enough after dinner I want to take you down to the stables.” As if horses are anything worth keeping a secret over.

Just then, the telephone rang again. I determinately shook my head at Tom; it better not be who I think it is. Those last five minutes at the table seemed to be chaotic—getting the dishes prepared to be washed later, relighting the candles, answering the telephone.

Everything finally settled down eventually, and I found myself sitting on the wicker settee on the front porch with Nick. Now that I’m sitting with him alone, just him and me, I realized that it made me sad that I didn’t know my delightful cousin all that well. Not to mention the situation with Gatsby. I’ve got to figure out if he’s really the man I’m thinking of.

Nick must have sensed my disturbance, because he asked about my little girl. I told him why I was sad: “We don’t know each other very well, Nick. Even if we are cousins. You didn’t come to my wedding.”

“I wasn’t back from the war,” he answered in his characteristic empathetic voice. It made me smile slightly and thankful to have him as a cousin.

“That’s true… Well, I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, and I’m pretty cynical about everything.” I wanted to tell him what was really going on, but I couldn’t. I guess I couldn’t. As kind and concerned as Nick is, I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

Nick started talking about my daughter again. “I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything. Oh, yes,” I said, trying to be as passionate about as I was before, but I obviously failed. I let out a long-anticipated sigh, then I remembered something: “Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?”

“Very much.”

“It’ll show you how I’ve gotten to feel about—things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’

“You see, I think everything’s terrible anyhow. Everybody thinks so—the most advanced people. And I KNOW. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything.” Oh, I can be so confusing sometimes. I heard a laugh escape my lips. “Sophisticated—God, I’m sophisticated!” I said after that.

Nonetheless, this heart-to-heart with Nick made me feel better after all. He’s such a good listener. I felt another smile approaching my face.

After that, Nick and I went inside where Jordan was reading the Saturday Evening Post to Tom under the lamplight. When she saw us come in, she held our gaze for a while. Then she said, “To be continued,” as she tossed the magazine on the table. “In our very next issue.”

Then she stood up rather clumsily and said, “Ten o’clock. Time for this good girl to go to bed.” Why did she have to go to bed so early? Oh, I remember.

“Jordan’s going to play in the tournament tomorrow,” I explained, “over at Westchester.”

At that, an expression of newfound discovery appeared on Nick’s face. “Oh,—you’re Jordan Baker,” he said with fixated realization. He studied her once again.

“Good night,” she said delicately. “Wake me at eight, won’t you?” she asked, turning toward Nick.

“If you’ll get up.”

“I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you anon.”

“Of course you will,” I said, glad that they did, in fact, get along. “In fact I think
I’ll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I’ll sort of—oh—fling you together. You know—lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing—”

“Good night,” called Jordan from the stairs. “I haven’t heard a word,” she added as an afterthought.

The door closed behind her and after a while, Tom said, “She’s a nice girl. They oughtn’t to let her run around the country this way.”

Who was he talking about? “Who oughtn’t to?” I asked.

“Her family.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick’s going to look after her, aren’t you, Nick? She’s going to spend lots of weekends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her.” I was satisfied I convinced Tom now.

“Is she from New York?” asked Nick.

“From Louisville.” I answered. “Our white girlhood was passed together there. Our beautiful white—”

“Did you give Nick a little heart-to-heart talk on the veranda?” Tom asked suddenly.

No we didn’t. “Did I?” I asked as I gazed at Nick. “I can’t seem to remember, but I think we talked about the Nordic race. Yes, I’m sure we did. It sort of crept up on us and first thing you know—”

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Nick,” Tom said to Nick.

“I heard nothing at all,” Nick said lightly with a trivial hint of slyness.

A few minutes after that, it was time for Nick to go home. Tom and I walked him to the door. He was just getting into his car and had started the motor when I remembered hearing something about Nick. “Wait!” I called, darting toward his car.

“I forgot to ask you something, and it’s important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West.”

“That’s right,” Tom added with thoughtful eyes. “We heard that you were engaged.”

“It’s libel. I’m too poor,” Nick affirmed quickly.

“But we heard it,” I said. “We heard it from three people so it must be true.”

“Okay,” Nick said delicately. Then he drove away.

Gatsby. Gatsby. Gatsby. Jay Gatsby. Jay Gatsby... Could it possibly be him? I didn’t notice I was running up the stairs until my shoe caught on the rug lining the stairwell. I tugged it free, rushed to Jordan’s room, burst through the door, and rapidly asked her, “What Gatsby?”

“What?” Jordan asked, straining to sit up in bed. Apparently she had already gone to sleep.

“Gatsby, who is he?” I demanded impatiently.

“Who?” she asked through sleepy eyes. Now I was annoyed.

“Gatsby, the man you mentioned talking to Nick”

“Oh,” she yawned.

“What’s he like?” I questioned once more.

“Well, he went to Oxford—”

“Go on,” I said, interrupting her.

“I think he was in the war, too, now that I think about it.”

I let forth an airy sigh. “It must be the man I used to know.” There wasn’t anything else to say. He must be the Jay Gatsby I had once known.

I didn’t realize until later, but I had disconcertedly walked into my room, fell upon my bed, and curled up into a neat little ball.

“He must be,” I whispered to myself. There’s no other answer.

“He must be…”