I had barely enough money to get by myself, and I didn’t have any answer, other than one I knew Myrtle wouldn’t like. She could scrape by; I always did. She could find a job and we could pool our pennies. We’d be poor as dirt, but we’d have each other.
I remembered the promise Jay had made to me once, that he would help Myrtle. That he would get her away from George, give her some money to start on her own. And then, what had he gone and done instead? Gotten her mixed up with Tom, gotten her into this whole mess and made everything terribly worse. My anger for Jay burned up hot inside of me, boiling over. I couldn’t push it down any longer; I was going to have to confront him.
“Listen, Myrtle. I want you to go back home and don’t let George know you’ve been out here. I have a plan, but I need a few days to put it in motion. Can you just wait it out a little while longer?”
“What kind of plan?” She wiped her eyes and stared at me, wide-eyed with skepticism. “You’ll go see Tom?”
I bit my lip. There was no way I was going to see Tom. But I was betting I could get Jay to help once I showed him how angry I was. “Just trust me, Myrtle, please?”
She hesitated for a moment but then she finally agreed. I knew she longed for Tom; I knew if Tom telephoned right now or swept in here and carried her off into the night, westward, she would leave me—and Duke—without even looking back.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, she cleaned up her face in the bathroom. She gave me hug, and picked up her bag, and then I walked downstairs with her.
I helped her get a cab to take her back to Queens, and just before she got in the car she turned back to me, she hugged me fiercely. “Give Duke a kiss from me, will you, Cath?”
I didn’t know it then, but those were the last words she’d ever say to me. The last moment I’d ever see my sister alive.
Daisy August 1922
WEST EGG
ONE SATURDAY IN AUGUST, WHEN it was almost too hot to breathe, Jordan insisted in the middle of the afternoon that we were going out.
“Now?” I said, lying on the couch, fanning myself. “Must we really, Jordie?”
July had rolled lazily into August, almost every day a repeat of the one before. The monotony of summer broken up only by an occasional party or polo match. Tom swore to me a few weeks ago he wasn’t seeing his woman in the city any longer, and yet, last night and the night before, the phone had rung on and on and on during supper. Jordan had looked at me, sipping her gin and tonic, with worry all over her face. I supposed that’s why she was demanding something of me this afternoon. She was concerned.
“Yes,” she insisted now. “You need to get out of this house, Daise. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I sighed and told her I’d go get ready. It was easier to go along than to argue with her, and besides, maybe she was right. Maybe getting out of here would do me some good.
I fixed my hair and my face, and then I found Pammy to say good-bye. She was eating a late lunch with her nurse. In spite of her nurse’s cries that she was a mess, I smothered Pammy’s plump, sticky cheeks with kisses as she erupted into a fit of giggles, and I wondered, for a moment, if maybe this was all I truly needed to cheer me.
“Daise,” Jordan interrupted, sounding impatient. “Let’s go.”
“Mama’s going out for a bit with Aunt Jordan,” I told Pammy. “But I won’t be gone long, precious.” She turned back to her nurse and her lunch, unperturbed. Still, I stared at her for another second. She was so beautiful and happy, blissfully unaware of her father’s indiscretions or her mother’s misery.
“Come on, Daise,” Jordan said, grabbing my arm and leading me out front. “I’ll drive.”
I got in her car and Jordan quickly revved the engine and swerved down the drive. I remembered again why I didn’t like to drive places with her. She was a terrible, reckless driver. And I wondered briefly as she spun out onto the main road if she might hit something, and if we might both die. Then Tom would be truly free to be with whomever he wanted, and what would happen to Pammy? That thought burned up angrily inside of me.
“Jordie, slow down,” I insisted, my fingers tensely clutching the door of the car. “Where are we going in such a rush?” She didn’t answer me, but she eased back on the gas a little and I exhaled. Then she made the turn toward West Egg. “Nick’s?” I asked.
Jordan and Nick had been getting along swimmingly all summer, and I’d wondered if there might even be wedding bells in their future.