Daisy Speaks

November 3, 2008
By Kara Thomas, South Plainfield, NJ

It's not I even wanted to move, but of course that decision wasn't up to me. My husband Tom made sure we left East Egg in a hurry. My ex, Jay Gatsby, really bothered Tom, and I suppose I couldn't blame him, for I had made some bad choices concerning them. Being with Tom was the absolute best choice, and I couldn't think of a soul who could tell me otherwise.

Everyone's always so quick to call Tom and me careless and deceitful, but how do you think Gatsby and I even started a relationship? The man assured me that he was from a wealthy family, said my parents would give me no trouble when it came to him. Of course the man didn't have two pennies to rub together, but I guess no one ever discusses that.

I did truly care for Gatsby; in fact I may have loved him, but I was not going to sit at home while Gatsby went off to war. I've heard those stories about soldiers' nights off in busy towns. I'm no idiot. While Gatsby was away, probably making new "friends" at every port on his tour, I decided to meet new people as well. That's when I met Tom, and the rest, as the say, is history.

As for the accident, I never asked Gatsby to take the fall. I guess he thought that if he protected me I'd be more likely to choose him over my own husband. It's not as if it was really my fauly anyway. Have you ever tried driving that god awful yellow bus? The thing has the turning radius of a boat. It definately was not worth the money he paid for it.

Even if Gatsby did make himself a millionaire to impress me, I can't say that it ever made him more attractive to me. Convenient, yes. Attractive, no. Despite the fact that all I hear about is how awful I am, I don't think anyone is accepting of criminals. That's precisely what Gatsby wound up being. His mansion was built from bootlegging and crime, and no one can convince me that dirty money is something I would have wanted to stick my hand in. I really don't understand how everyone, even my own cousin, has come to the conclusion that I'm a vile creature.

Well, thanks for listening to me, and thank you for helping me finally get my mail. I haven't been able to get anything forwarded from our home in East Egg. I wonder if I've missed any important social events. What's this? A funeral?

The author's comments:
I was inspired by Margaret Atwood's Gertrude Talks Back. I decided to represent the unheard story of Daisy Buchanan.

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