Beautiful Little Fools(68)

He nodded. He knew all this. Nick must’ve told him everything he thought there was to know about me. Jay stood and grabbed a folder from a satchel on the bench by the door. “Daisy, he’s no good for you.” He handed me the folder.

“What’s this?” I asked, uncertain I wanted it, whatever it was.

“Proof that he doesn’t love you,” Jay said.

Proof? A laugh caught in my throat and rose up, turning into a strangled cry as I thought of Rebecca Buckley’s pink cherubic cheeks catching the midnight lamplight in the Lake Forest stables. Wasn’t that all the proof I’d ever need?

Jay opened up the folder, pulled out the photographs inside, and handed them to me. Unmistakably they showed Tom, on a train, huddled in close with an unfamiliar woman. She was stout and beautiful, with a maturity to her face that made me think she was older than me. God, at least she wasn’t a child. Jay probably thought these photographs would be a bombshell, but instead they were just a drop of rain in one of the giant puddles out front. I pushed the pictures away, closed my eyes, and sighed.

“He doesn’t love you,” Jay repeated. “But I still love you.”

I opened my eyes and focused in on the woman’s face in one of the photographs: Tom’s woman in the city. The one who called our house too many times during supper. She really was quite beautiful. I pictured Tom with her, holding her possessively, the way he once held on to me.

And then suddenly, I began to cry. I couldn’t help myself. I’d understood all summer Tom would be… Tom, even after I’d insisted East Egg would be our permanent home. But now the indignity of it, the continued humiliation of it, and experiencing those feelings, in front of this man I might’ve married once… I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. They made Jay’s face blurry, almost ethereal. Maybe he truly was a ghost.

He reached his hand to my cheek, gently wiped away my tears with his thumb. His touch was familiar and unfamiliar, the past and the present colliding right here, in Nick’s floral living room. The past had a softness to it, an innocence that I’d lost long ago. That thought only seemed to make my tears multiply. “Don’t cry, Daisy,” Jay said gently. “Please don’t cry. I’m here now. We can be together again.”

“Five years is a long time,” I choked out through my tears. “I’m not the same girl I was, Jay.”

“I’m not the same either.” Excitement rose in his voice. “I have money now. A lot of money, Daisy. I can take care of you the way you deserve. And we can go back now to how we used to be. Just erase the last three years.”

Jay put his hand on my cheek again, pulled my face in close, and I had a sudden flash of us standing there in the middle of another rainstorm, lightning tearing across the sky, that first night we ever kissed in Louisville. Was he right? Could I go back to being that careless, carefree girl I was at eighteen, just like that? I’d been happy then, hadn’t I? And it had been so long since I’d felt such a lightness.

I could feel his breath against my lips, and I realized he was going to kiss me now, again, here, five years later. A lifetime away from that other night.

I knew I should stop him, push him away; I was a married woman, a mother. But my marriage vows had lost their meaning long ago, back in Santa Barbara before our honeymoon had even officially ended. They meant nothing to Tom. Why should they still mean anything to me? It thrilled me a little to think that I could be getting even. That Tom could run around with a woman in the city and I could be here, in West Egg, kissing another man. And if I were to recount this to Tom later, hint it to Tom even, he might turn red and scream and break apart at the seams. I smiled a little at that thought.

Jay thought my smile was about him, and he moved in a bit closer. Touched his lips to mine softly. He tasted of grapefruit and sunshine and money. Not at all like that salty, desperate, hungry soldier I once snuck into my bedroom.

I kissed him back. But I was thinking about Tom, about what I might tell Tom later about this moment, about the way Tom’s face might look when he realized that I, too, could be unfaithful. When he realized that I could feel something for another man.

The only problem was, I felt absolutely nothing.

I pushed my mouth against Jay’s harder, wanting so desperately to feel something. But I could not summon that thrill I’d had as a girl in Louisville. My blood ran through my veins icy cold; my heart ticked along slowly. Every bit of that girl I’d been once, she truly was gone. Life with Tom had ruined me, made me numb and unfeeling.

I pulled back. Jay’s eyes were wide, his cheeks ruddy. “Jay…” I shook my head. I felt certain now. “We can’t relive the past. It’s gone.”

“We can,” he insisted. He tried to pull me closer, but I pulled back again. “Daisy.” Jay’s voice sounded higher, more desperate. He grabbed my shoulders roughly. “I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

But what did I want, exactly? Not his life, parties all summer long. I longed for quiet. The monotony of a permanent and steady home for Pammy, a world that wasn’t ever-changing, that felt sure and solid beneath my feet. I no longer dreamed of anything gay or romantic. I only wanted certainty.

Suddenly Nick walked back in, and Jay let go of me. I stumbled back a little and Nick stared at me; his eyes widened, almost frightened. Oh, I must look a mess. I grabbed my bag and got a handkerchief to wipe my face.