Beautiful Little Fools(86)

I hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, but I felt too jittery to be exhausted. And every time I tried to close my eyes, even in the tub, all I could see was Tom’s woman flying through the air. The shocked expression on her face, like she couldn’t believe we’d hit her, she couldn’t believe that she was about to die.

“We have to stop,” I’d yelled at Jay after she hit the car last night, my foot going for the brake. But he’d shoved me out of the way and hit the gas with his own foot, his body covering mine, pressing against mine. I was no longer in control. (Was I ever really in control?) He was driving, on top of me. Smothering me. But he had to stop. He had to be stopped.

“Daisy,” he’d said, and his voice was so soft I could barely hear it over the roar of the engine and the roar of the hot night and the roar of death in my ears. “There’s nothing we can do, even if we do stop. And I won’t let you go to jail.”

Jail? But I hadn’t done anything. Jay had grabbed the wheel.

What can I do to prove my love for you? he’d said, just before she ran out into the road. Did he not realize there would just be another city, another woman? They were disposable to Tom. We all were.

“I didn’t hit her,” I’d shouted at Jay, my voice trembling as I’d finally stopped the car, in East Egg, in front of my house. “You did.”

“Oh Daisy.” Jay shook his head. “You were driving.”

“But you grabbed the wheel. It was… out of my control.” Everything was, wasn’t it. My marriage, my whole entire life. Even this car when I was supposedly in the driver’s seat.

“I was trying to help you swerve, to miss her. But it was too late.” Jay spoke so intently, that for a moment I wondered if he was telling the truth.

But then I shook my head. That wasn’t what had happened. I’d been the one trying to swerve; I’d tried to stop. Jay had pushed me out of the way. Jay had forced the car to hit her.

“You were drinking, Daisy,” he said softly. “Everything is blurry.”

“No,” I said. “That’s not what happened.” I would never hurt anyone intentionally, not even her. Would I?

Be good, Daise.

I was suddenly gasping for breath, unsure what was true and what wasn’t. I’d pushed the car door open and run out of the car.

“Daisy, wait!” Jay cried after me. I’d ignored him, and I ran up the drive toward the house. “Daisy, I’ll sit out here all night if I have to. I’ll never leave you,” he yelled.

I’d run into the house and sat in the kitchen and sobbed. And by the time Tom and Jordan got back, nearly an hour later, Jay and his car were gone.



* * *



BY MORNING, I knew what I needed to do.

I’d spent half the night arguing with Tom, going back and forth over who was to blame and for what. Myrtle didn’t deserve that, Tom kept on saying. She didn’t deserve that.

What did I deserve? That didn’t seem to concern Tom as much.

I’d watched the sun rise over the garden, and a new clarity had suddenly washed over me. Jay had grabbed the wheel from me in the car, and Tom was constantly grabbing the wheel from me in our life. Enough. I wanted to be in control. I wanted to drive my whole entire life, all on my very own.

“I’m leaving you,” I’d said to Tom all of a sudden, as dawn broke.

He’d laughed a little, like he didn’t believe me.

“I’m done,” I said. And I was.

Tom stared at me, his mouth a gaping hole.

But the thought of it, the delicious thought of it. Being free. Being in control. It burgeoned up inside of me like the yellow roses in the garden that had suddenly opened their faces to the sun last week. I could just get up, and I could leave. I could catch a train later this afternoon to Louisville with Pammy, and I could stop being Tom’s wife. Just like that. I could be Daisy Fay from Louisville again and Pammy’s mother. Away from Tom, I could make sure Pammy wouldn’t make the mistakes I’d made, that she would never marry anyone like Tom, or date anyone like Jay. That she could grow up strong and fearless. Nobody’s fool.

“You’re not going anywhere, Daisy.” Tom laughed again.

“I mean it, Tom. I’m really and truly done,” I’d insisted, petulantly.

We’d locked eyes and I’d refused to look away. And perhaps he’d finally believed me, because then he’d gotten up, stormed out of the house angry as a hornet, leaving to go god knows where.

But it didn’t matter anymore. His absence already freed me.

I drank a cup of coffee to wake myself up, and I’d hatched a plan in my mind. First, I would go to West Egg, talk to Jay. Tell him once and for all to leave me alone. Tell him that I never wanted to see him again, that I was leaving, and he’d better not follow me. Then I’d pack up Pammy’s things, and we’d get on the train to Louisville later today.

It was a fine plan, and I’d felt lighter than I had in years as I’d floated up the stairs to tell Jordan.



* * *



AFTER MY BATH, dressed in my funeral black, I finally made it out to the garage. Tom’s blue coupe was gone. So was Jordan’s car. I hoped she wasn’t too disappointed in me. She had frowned when I’d told her of my plan earlier, and I hoped she would still love me once I was a disgraced woman. A divorced woman. But it couldn’t be helped. This was what I had to do.