Is there a correct way to tell a person that someone very important to them has died? Especially when the person you’re telling the news to had been in love with the deceased in the past? I wished that someone, anyone, would take up the formidable task of telling Daisy that Gatsby was dead, but I was the only one left. She had the right to know from me, not from a newspaper headline a week later. I just decided to lay the information on the table as eloquently as I could.
“I’m terribly sorry to have to tell you this over the phone, Daisy, I really am. And... well. You’re the only other person I could think of that really cared about him and... I thought you should know as soon as possible. The fact of the matter is... Gatsby is dead. Died last night. Someone, the police haven’t identified him yet, shot him from a boat last night as he was on his dock looking across the water.” There was an audible intake of breath on the other line, and then a metallic clatter of the telephone being discarded on the ground. I waited a few minutes to see if she’d pick up the phone. I felt that it was my duty to be here for her at this time, even if it’s the last place that I wanted to be. I wondered if I should comfort Daisy, or tell her how great a person that Gatsby was. I ended up just staying silent, patiently waiting for Daisy to respond.
“No... No that can’t be. I saw him yesterday. It can’t be. It just can’t be.” Daisy sounded like a person lost in the world. The tone of her voice had lost its captivating lill and she sounded dead and tinny, like how Gatsby had sounded the night he truly realized that Daisy was lost to him.
Going against everything that I wanted to do in that moment, which likely included buying a one way ticket to the Midwest and selling my godforsaken house, I uttered, “Do you want me to come over?”
Another pause, and then, “Yes Nick. Yes I’d like that very much. Please... Please don’t leave me alone with this.”
On the short ride over to Daisy’s house, I began to reminisce about Gatsby’s life and all that could have been. The poor chap’s life had ended before it had even started. His entire existence had been consumed with the enchanting Daisy Buchanan from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. She was the epitome of his hopes and dreams; he’d admitted that her very voice reminded him of money for God’s sakes. To this day I can’t think of anything more tragic than Jay Gatsby’s life.
I arrived at Daisy’s dock and noticed that the green light was gone from the dock.  Not turned off, but disappeared from sight. I don’t know why this detail stuck with me, but it seemed fitting that Gatsby’s symbol of obsession and hope had disappeared along with his life.
I walked tentatively to Daisy’s doorstep and before I could even knock on the mahogany door, it was flung open. I was greeted with the sight of a very distraught Daisy Buchanan. Her usual impeccable appearance was gone. Her hair was askew, mascara stains were running down her cheeks, and she wore a brown blouse with a black skirt. In short, she looked like a mess.
“Nick, darling, what are you doing here? You know I do enjoy your company but now is really not the best time...” Daisy looked around wildly, as if she half expected someone to be lurking in the shadows of the well- trimmed bushes.
I was thoroughly confused by this, but now that I think back on the events of that day and of Daisy’s life as a whole, this reaction was to be expected. Daisy Buchanan had always lived in her own reality, receding into herself and her thoughts whenever she didn’t want to accept the harsh reality of her life. She had gone for so long thinking of Gatsby as her one true love that she couldn’t accept that he’d vanished from her life overnight.
“Daisy. You know as well as I do that you don’t want to be alone to grieve over Gatsby’s memory with Tom. Now may I please come in?”
Daisy reluctantly opened the door, protesting all the way that it could have been any man on the dock because it was dark outside, and that police aren’t properly screened these days and don’t have the proper education to look into murders, and that it might not have been a person at all on the dock, and really anything she could come up with to convince herself that Jay Gatsby was not, in fact, dead.
The first thing that I saw in the Buchanan’s main entrance was an overly jubilant Tom Buchanan. Gone was the haunted look in his eyes, replaced by a new life that made him look ten years younger.
“Nick! My boy, sit down, sit down.” Tom gestured to his extravagant dining room table. “What a welcome surprise. Daisy, you didn’t tell me that Nick was coming! Well, no matter. No matter at all. Make yourself at home. I’ll just go get the whiskey.” Tom strolled to the kitchen to go bark orders at the staff, whistling a happy tune along the way.  Daisy began muttering to herself and she had her eyes glued to the window as if she was hoping to catch a human- like shadow make its way to her front door. I thought that this would be a good of time as any to bring up Gatsby’s death.
“Daisy. I was hoping that you would say a few remarks at Gatsby’s funeral next week.  It doesn’t have to be long, just a few sentences or so.  I think Gatsby would have appreciated it.”
Daisy looked right into my eyes and exclaimed fiercely, “Gatsby is not dead. I’ve been thinking this over for a while Nick, and I have decided to marry him. You’d be his best man, I can guarantee it. I think you’d look ravishing in a charcoal suit. Don’t you Tom?”
Shocked speechless by Daisy’s utter disconnect from reality, I couldn’t bring myself to even respond. At this moment, Tom walked into the room trailed by a servant carrying a platter with three whiskeys on it. “Daisy, darling, Gatsby is dead. It’s just you and me now with no obstacles in the way. Myrtle’s dead, Gatsby’s dead, and I love you now more than ever.  Nick, take that whiskey. Good man.”
I shakily took the whiskey while Daisy jumped out of her seat, absolutely furious with Tom. “I may have loved you in the past Tom. I won’t deny it. But I’ve always loved Gatsby more, much more than I’ve ever loved you. And I’ve decided that I’ve had enough of you and all of the Myrtle’s in the world. I’m going to marry Gatsby and Nick is going to be his best man. Isn’t that right Nick?”
Caught in between the two opposing forces, I could only shake my head adamantly that I was not a part of this plan.
Tom’s face was starting to turn an angry shade of red and his veins were starting to pop out from his neck. “Daisy. Accept that Gatsby is gone. He’s been dead for seventeen hours and forty- five minutes by now. You have me, and little Pammy, and all the money that you could ever ask for. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“Maybe it was once Tom, maybe it was. But now, Gatsby has enough money to take care of me and Pammy five times over, and I won’t have to live every minute of my miserable life wondering if you have another mistress.” Daisy whirled around with blazing eyes to address me.  “Do you know how awful it’s been all these years, Nick? I’ve been dreadfully lonely with only my thoughts to keep me company. God, my thoughts. If I could turn off my thoughts and rewind a few decades I would in a heartbeat.” Daisy’s eyes became glassy, as if remembering a happier time. “Back when I was a beautiful little fool, like Pammy. I wish I could just stay a beautiful little fool.” Daisy began to weep. The effort of standing up to Tom had taken its toll on her and she fell gracefully to her seat. Her eyes still held the same determination though, to get Gatsby back. If only Daisy had stood so strong when Gatsby had been alive. Then, maybe, both of their stories wouldn’t have been so tragic.
“I’ve had enough of this, Daisy,” Tom spluttered, “I’ve given you everything. Everything! And how do you repay me? By dreaming over a dead bootlegger who wasn’t worth the dirt on my shoes. I know I’ve made mistakes in the past, but I always came back to you. I’d think you’d have the decency to do the same.”
By this point, I had started to inch towards the doorway, fed up with the whole business. There was no use in trying to get Daisy to speak at Gatsby’s funeral, she still wanted to marry the chap for God’s sakes. My hand was grasping for the doorknob when I heard Tom Buchanan utter something that made my blood curdle.
“Yes Daisy. You heard me right. I killed your poor, beloved Gatsby. He was just too much of a nuisance, and got too close to you. I don’t regret a thing. Now go tell the servants to prepare for dinner; we have a guest in the house. Go clean yourself up and try to look presentable.”
Daisy looked utterly shocked, as if the news that Gatsby was dead didn’t really process until that moment. With her head held high and tears streaming down her face, she calmly walked to the kitchen to do just as Tom had asked.