• 6th November 2014

    “The fact that you have found a way to look so arrogant and exuberant every time we go out has yet to quit astounding me, Amelia.”
    “Arrogant?” I frowned and carefully selected my words, a failing attempt to not knock out this young man’s teeth out. If anyone was arrogant, he was the living example, and he was paired with a repulsive attitude as well. “I would not find womanly independence to be arrogance, Christopher.”
    He took in my cold tone and frown with no surprise. I had made it obvious that I had no interest in him, and never will. Yet the bull headed, fat, obnoxious rich boy made it routine to court me every Wednesday afternoon at five p.m. sharp. He would greet my sick father and eldest brother, Elliot, with a charming smile and cheerful disposition. Then he approached my mother with devious charm, intimidating her with his firm handshake and height. He may be fat, but with his height, he was no person you would go hand to hand with.
    If my mother had any say to things, he wouldn’t be allowed to live in the state, but my father believed he would be the best suited for me.
    When Christopher approached me, his back was always to my family, so they could never see his dirty smile and wandering eyes. He would bow slightly and kiss my hand, making me shudder in disgust. Ever since my childhood, I saw Christopher Bloom as an outspoken moron. Always boasting about ideas and events he knew nothing about. Even the children of our town had more knowledge of the world compared to him. It annoyed me when he would boast about his servants, money, bed warmers, and troublesome acquaintances. With every visit, he would bring one to “keep watch” on us while he courted me. It usually resulted with him attempting to put a hand down my dress and a smack on his face, and his acquaintance would act as if he had seen nothing.
    Today was one that I had never met before. He was quiet, American, I assumed. His accent was not European; I had taken note of it when he greeted my family. I also noted his age, it couldn’t be older than twenty. There had been no deceit in his tone, no arrogance to his appearance. He wore no cloak of greed, envy, or arrogance. Yet, he proved to be the most intimidating of all. During this whole time, he watched us carefully, keeping an especially close eye to Christopher. I felt completely unsettled, expecting Christopher making a move I would not approve of.
    “Bah,” Christopher spat at my comment of independence. “Women, independent! A stupid American idea. Women are meant to keep beds warm, food on the husband’s table, and create offspring!”
    Anger flared in me, I hated him. I couldn’t stand many types of people, but men who saw women, wives, as servants and tools….. They were scum that I could never forgive.

    “Only a sexist pig like you will believe that!” I yelled, my voice echoed in the library. Even in a normal tone, a voice would echo, but when I yelled, it sounded like thunder rolling through the hills. Both men stared at me, Christopher’s in outrage and shock, and the unnamed acquaintance in surprise. “Now, if you insist on insulting my sex any further, I expect you to do in when not in my home!”

    Christopher’s face twisted in confusion and outrage, he was never told to leave. He was too intimidating, too powerful, to be told to. It took him some time to respond and he bellowed his rage out, causing nearby breakables to shake as he stood and stomped about the library. Nearby attendants stood at open windows and doors to hear the exchange.

    “Now listen here, you… you inconsiderate, spoiled, defiant, obnoxious brat!” His face turned a shade of scarlet, sadly, I found scarlet a fine color, and it suited him well. “I have courted you for months! Trying to make you swoon over me! I give your family funds for your father, your servants, and you! Because your father is too helpless to work and your brother, Elliot,” He spat my brother’s name with disgust, like he was pure filth. “He can’t find his way out of a bottle!”

    He grabbed a lamp from a desk; I flinched as he threw it at a bookshelf. It hit with a large crash and glass, metal, and wire exploded and flew across the floor and shelf. “You are ungrateful! I can give you money, power, and happiness!”

    “Treating me like a servant is not what I would like. It is not what I want, and you wouldn’t know any of those three things if it smacked you in the face.” Fury blurred my vision as I was so mad I could not do anything but cry. My voice was a whisper, a fleeting voice in a spring breeze.

    Attendants and servants murmured among one another, someone whispered “Find Master Elliot, let him know what is happening here. Go, quickly.”

    It became a standoff, Christopher stood, staring at me with more than anger. It was a feeling I could not bring myself to describe. He always looked at me as if I was property, something he could own and do what he wished. Now, he saw me as trash. He wanted a doll to control, to dominate. Now, I had shown I was more than talk of independence, and he didn’t want to hear or see it.

    “You have never known what you wanted.” He strode towards me, soon towering above me. My blood turned ice cold as he spoke softly, his voice full of dangerous poison and evil, waiting to unleash itself. “You are a foolish child who can only speak of unrealistic ideals. You can never, will never, be what you claim you are. You are a child, and I will teach you how to be a proper woman. No matter what you, your servants, or you family may think. I have more wealth and power than you. I can get what I want.”

    Tears trailed down my cheeks now, fear had taken over my anger. I was cornered, a small animal with nowhere to run. It was then that Christopher’s acquaintance spoke.

    “Well, old sport,” He clapped a hand on Christopher’s shoulder, his voice was rich and bold.

    “I believe you may be getting too big for your pants. You see, a lady, no matter the kind, does not wish to be threatened.” He gestured to me politely, with a sincere smile, but when he looked at Christopher, his eyes were cold and threatening. “You’ve even caused this young lady, Amelia, is it, to be unsettled and cry. No doubt you will not be so easily regarded by her family now.”

    Christopher shoved the Americans hand from his shoulder forcefully. The American paid no mind, but kept the cold look in his eyes to him.

    “What do you know, you American?” Christopher snarled, keeping frozen under his glare. I wondered how long it would take for my brother to arrive, I wasn’t sure whose side the American was on, and it didn’t look good for him if Christopher got riled up and tried to attack me. If the American was to help me, he would have his hands more than full.

    “I know that this is no way to treat a lady, no matter how much you may not like her.”

    “What makes you think that this child is a lady? All she does is talk big and not shut up to choose a husband.”

    The American frowned. “That is some old thinking you have, old sport. They are outdated now, women can talk more and be more if they wish.”

    “More of those foolish American ideals. Gatsby, really, I have you here as a guest. You can’t tell me what to do here.” Christopher said the Americans name with loud clarity.

    Gatsby.

    I found the name a rush. Like it was surrounded in late night parties, loud music, and wind ripping around the crazed and gay peoples who joined the party. A rush of driving a fast American car through the early dawn as the colors of the sun and sky washed over the land. His name, it would be one I would always remember. Gatsby, the American of dirty blonde hair and captivating blue eyes. Gatsby, the richest man in the world, given a holy spark of ambition.

    “Bloom,” A voice thundered through the library, I looked to the doors to find my brother, Elliot, standing. His face was red with fury and a servant stood next to him, trying to shrink back into the shadows. I couldn’t blame her, my brother was terrifying when mad. “I hear you’ve been a nuisance to my sister and making her very uncomfortable.”

    Elliot, very tall and masculine, a good six foot, making his walking distance shorter than someone of my measly five-foot-five. In less than ten strides, Christopher had met him in the midway between me and the door. Gatsby stood with me, I stood now that my brother had arrived. He looked very tense as Elliot swept a gaze over him, obviously Gatsby did not expect his afternoon to go like this. I couldn’t blame him, but it was what happened when you took time to be with the infamous Christopher Bloom. Elliot’s dark gaze redirected to Christopher.

    “I want you to leave my household, now, and to never come back.” His jaw was set and he held his hands tightly in front of himself. I knew he wanted to take a hit at Christopher, but that would only make matters worse. “I have been informed of your various, displays, of affection towards Amelia, and I will not allow it in my home.”

    “Now, Elliot, did your servants tell you this?” Christopher chuckled. “How can you trust them? They are thieves and liars. They are not to be trusted. I have done nothing to offend you in your home.”

    “I beg to differ,” Christopher turned to me with a snarl threatening to emerge from his small smirk her must have given my brother. “You have been nothing but a disrespect since you first began to ‘court’ me.”

    “You’re lying just because you’d rather be with some servant!” Christopher countered. I felt a pain in my chest with his reference to my first love, a servant of my age, who had been forced to flee to America a year before because of Christopher Bloom wanting to get to me. He spread rumors and made the servant, Edward, so scared for his life, that he even bought the boat ticket himself. “Whoring around with people who are below you, a disgrace to your family.”

    “Bloom,” Elliot now had a tone that scared me, I had never heard it before. “You are hereby banned from these grounds and you will no longer be courting my sister. If you even think about coming to this household to bother my family again, I do promise you will find yourself in a Hell even greater than the one we once lived in during the war.”

    With the last comment, Christopher’s face turned a pale red. He was angry, but he seemed sick to his stomach. I never knew about the horrors of the Great War against Germany, but my brother came home with a shell shock that made him bedridden for months. Even now, he would go through spells of suddenly screaming or making a tench in the yard, yelling about bombs and gunfire. It was disturbing, to say the least, but his doctor was helping him recover greatly.

    Christopher pointed a finger in Elliots face. “This will not be the end of this. You need my money, you need me, and I can ruin you.”

    “Just try, Bloom, I trust that you will make this very easy for me.”
    And with that, Christopher was gone. Yet, Gatsby stood and spoke with Elliot, apologizing for the whole problem.

    “I really was not aware that Mr. Bloom would cause this trouble,” Now we sat in the dining area, dinner was served and my mother and Elliot seemed to be enjoying Gatsby’s company. My father too, but he was forced to bed early. Although he told Gatsby that he wanted to know more about him, about his time at Oxford, how he had gotten wealthy, what America was like. “I was told we would not be here long and that I would soon be introduced to a business partner of his.”

    “It’s fine Mr. Gatsby,” My mother smiled reassuringly. “You are not the blame in this. Christopher Bloom has been threatening this family and it’s safety even before my husband fell ill. Luckily, you didn’t allow my daughter to be harmed, which is more than what his last round of friends have done.”

    “Yes, so tell me,” Gatsby smiled, I felt like it was only halfway true, like the stories he had told about himself throughout the evening. “Is your family as bad off as Mr. Bloom says, or was he just trying to scare you?”

    “He does have more money than us, yes.” I took a sip of my wine as all attention directed to me. “Though, we are not broke, we are wealthy enough to afford living in this estate and have all of our privileges. Christopher is just scared of how Elliot and I will treat the money. Given how the two of us have very good reputations all through the south of Britain. Although, I do not understand how I can use the family fortune when I am not the firstborn.”

    “He just fears your ideas, little sister.” Elliot reassured me. “He doesn’t want you to be a free mind. So he attempted to control you. Obviously, that did not end well, since he felt so invincible that he would raise his voice so the whole household could hear him this afternoon. I was on my way to kick him out when the servants informed me of his actions in this residence.”

    “It was about time too, Elliot.” My mother waved to a servant for more wine. “To think that we allowed that pig walk over us for so long. It is a wonder how our reputation hadn’t been ruined.”

    “I must admit,” Gatsby shifted a bit uncomfortably. “I don’t have too much knowledge on reputation. I am newly wealthy, but I do hear that I throw some extraordinary parties. People from all over New York will find themselves there, eventually.”

    There was a small wistful note to his voice, I suspected that he wanted to find someone special at his parties. “What kind of people?”

    “Oh, senators, governors, gangsters….” And the wistful note was gone. Gatsby found a distraction from his thoughts.

    “Gangsters?!” My mothers voice became loud and full of slightly exaggerated fear. “Aren’t they always looking for money and trying to hide from the government?”

    “Oh, but everyone, even gangsters, cannot resist a good party!” I sensed a change in the air as Gatsby began to describe his parties. There was a new enthusiasm, a draw in his voice, his presence, that made everyone in the room imagine his grand celebrations.

    He spoke of music, wine, women, dancing, even fireworks. He spoke about how many people would arrive every weekend for his grand work. No one was ever disappointed, they always came back for more. He described his home, in West Egg, a rich neighborhood on Long Island. A twenty two bedroom mansion, with a dining hall, library, large closets, and so much more. It was so much larger than my family estate, I was slightly jealous. I wanted to see it, I wanted to go to America. To discover a new world, one with fireworks, parties, and lights. Lights I could never see here in England, not in all of Europe, not even Paris.
    Gatsby pulled us all in, peaking our interests into his lively ways. My mother nodded, there were some places where she commented ‘Oh, I never thought of that, maybe we should try that!’ or ‘That’s a bit scandalous, isn’t it? Amelia, isn’t that a tad bit scandalous to you?’.

    Elliot kept most of his comments to himself, but he enjoyed listening about American girls. He was ready to marry, but he had yet to find anyone. I wondered if he now wanted to find a wife in America, someone independent and kind. I hoped he would find someone soon, he deserved a good wife, and he was twenty-five, so he hadn’t been getting any younger.
    I never spoke a word, I listened. I took all of Gatsby’s words and absorbed them. My imagination ran through so many possibilities of how America was. How they talked, how they dressed, how they walked. I imagined the sound of American Jazz, the sounds of New York City in the prime of its day, the smell of American food and secret speculations of how it would taste. I wondered about my first love, the servant, Maxwell, and how he was living. Had he become rich? Was he working hard? Did he have a family? I longed to see him once more, even if we had both found our own lives, I wanted closure to know he was alright and that he knew that I was sorry.

    I gazed into my wine, the red reflecting lights, making it sparkle a bit. Slowly, I zoned out as conversation sparked around me with my family and Gatsby. Long into the night they spoke happily and full of wonder while wine had been continuously poured. They laughed and shared stories, my mother gave him advice of being high class, my brother shared light war experiences, and I listened. I wasn’t sure when I had passed out, but in the morning, I found myself in my own bed.

    By the time I had gotten dressed and walked to the dining room, I had discovered that our guest had spent the night, but left very early to catch a boat back to America. I felt slightly depressed to that, I wanted to go as well. As I walked through the hall to the dining room, I made note to myself to ask my mother and Elliot if I could spend the summer in New York. That way I could discover a piece of America for myself and search for Maxwell. Yet, when I came to breakfast, I found that my mother had attended my father to an appointment, and my brother was in a business meeting. None of them would be back for a few days, so I was left to myself in the house.

    The first few hours were more than a bore, I laid around doing nothing as servants cleaned and performed any chores they had for the day. After lunch, I began to help with the outside work to pass some time. Even though the servants protested, I enjoyed helping them and working. I felt it necessary to learn ways to care for myself and to be able to have some kind of skill that didn’t have to do with music or dance. And that became the routine for the time of my family’s absence.

    A month later, my brother returned from business, and he even visited my parents on his way home. I greeted him happily, but he had a look of dread and took me to sit down. He bore news of my father’s worsening condition and how he had been bedridden in a hospital for the last two weeks. “Doctor Wellings says that there is nothing more any of us can do except wait.”

    And with that, we spent the next few weeks between home and visiting our father. My mother stayed by his side the whole time. She kept him company and always told him stories of Gatsby, the American whom our family had taken so much interest in. He loved hearing stories and asked about my childhood shenanigans and Elliot’s life during the war. My father made the stories a distraction from his pain, even though it always showed as he paled to the white of paint and became bony. I began to dread visiting him as we waited for death to take him to a better place.

    Elliot began spending more time with father and he sent mother home, she stayed in her room and cried all day and night. A week after my mother and I had returned, the news of my fathers death came. Mother fell into depression and refused to leave her room, she no longer cried. Her voice became quiet and she wouldn’t allow anyone to enter her room aside from servants bringing or taking her food. Depression blanketed the household, chores were left undone as we prepared for Elliot to bring my father home for the wake, which would be in a week.

    I felt hollow as neighbors and family members came the same day that my father was to be coming home. We sat in silent vigil until the carriage arrived, his casket was carried to the main corridor. The casket was plain, like my father had always wanted, and he was dressed in his favorite white shirt and brown pants. We had a day full of sorrow and buried him at sunset next to his mother and father on top of a hill.

    Three months later, spring had arrived. Life had continued, my mother had found an American girl, Jackie Franklin, and introduced her to my brother. Elliot and Jackie had gone onto a very good start and she chose to stay in England so Elliot could properly court her. She was fair and sweet. She loved to work, sing, read, smile, and laugh. I knew that my father would’ve approved of her and would’ve loved her like a daughter. She made Elliot and Mother smile again, they hadn’t in such a long time. It made me happy to see, but although I had gotten past my depression of his death, I still felt alone. I wanted to find the happiness that Elliot and Jackie had, it was my only youthful wish that was true.

    Soon, spring came, and my brother and Jackie were set to marry when Summer began. It was a happy event to prepare for, but I was still felt lonely. Happiness bustled around me as servants began getting everything ready for early guests and the services to prepare dresses and suits, portraits, arrangements, and more. Spring brought life and light back to the once empty and dark house. Laughter echoed through the halls and music was played almost constantly. My brother’s business deal before my fathers death caused a constant and steady income to return to our home.

    We sent invites to the wedding, and my mother decided to send one to Gatsby, since he had been such a nice guest to us. Yet we never received a response and he never attended. The wedding went off without a hitch and the festivities were bright and colorful, my mother used some of Gatsby’s party ideas to make everything better. Family and friends stayed for a few days after Elliot and his new wife left for their honeymoon. Everyone shared stories with each other and got along well. Men shared war stories and spoke about politics in England and America, women spoke of fashion and other feminine things, and children ran and played with one another. Slowly, though, everyone dispersed and things settled down to normal.

    A few days after the end of the week of guests, a visitor found our door step. I answered it instead of a servant since I was closest to it, and I was greeted by a tall, slender brunette that gave me the smile that always would try to burst my heart. His hazel eyes brimmed with tears as my name escaped his lips just as I whispered his.

    “Amelia Parker...”

    “Maxwell Lee…”

    Tears streamed down my face, moistening my cheeks and I let out a cry of happiness as he brought me into an embrace and spun me around. “I never thought I would see you again!”

    “I promised you I would always come back!” He set me down and held me tight. “Jay told me you were still here, he met you last Autumn, and he told me that I should come and get you before someone else did.”

    “Jay?” I pulled back, but still let his arms be wrapped around me. “Jay who?”

    “Why, Jay Gatsby of course!” Maxwell smiled and wiped a tear from my cheek. “Don’t tell me, he never left you a first name? That’s just like the man! Mysterious as always.”

    I chuckled. “Mysterious it seems!”

    He laughed, a loud intoxicating laugh. One I had fallen in love with and could never help but laugh with. “How could you afford to return?” I asked.

    “I did what all the great American’s did, I made me a fortune.” Maxwell replied, his voice light and full of joy. “I made a fortune so that I could ask your father for your hand!”

    “Oh Max….” I whispered, I had forgotten that he hadn’t gotten word about my father, we had no idea where he was. “Father died… In the fall…”

    Max’s smile faltered. “He died? Oh Amelia.. I’m so sorry….”

    “You couldn’t have known… We had no clue where you were.”

    “I should have returned sooner though.” He frowned.

    Footsteps came from behind me and Maxwell straightened. Clearing his throat, he released me from his embrace. I turned to see my mother approaching, a look of confusion on her face. “Amelia, sweetheart, who is our guest… Oh, my, Maxwell!” She greeted him in surprise. “I never thought we would see you again! I apologize for the conditions in which you had to leave!”

    Maxwell smiled and bowed quickly. “It’s fine Miss Parker. I’m sorry for the loss of your husband.”

    “Well, Maxwell, we knew it was coming, even before you left. He had been sick for quite some time.” My mother looked wistful and pained. “He is looking down now and smiling that you have returned.”

    “Well, you should thank Gatsby for telling him about us.” I commented.

    “Gatsby!” Mother exclaimed. “Well, you must come in and tell us about how he has been, we invited him to Elliot’s wedding, you remember Elliot, my son, right? He just got wed to the prettiest of American girls. She’s kind and cheerful one! They are on their honeymoon now so it will be a while until they return, but Elliot will be glad to know you’ve returned!”

    She led Maxwell into our home happily, telling him tales of how things have been, Servants greeted him with smiles and pats on the back. We spent the night sharing stories of our lost time and spent the summer together.

    A year later, I sent a silent prayer to Jay Gatsby as I walked down the aisle, I thanked him for his impact on my family. I thanked him for giving me the ability to tell Maxwell Lee: “I do.”