Work Text:
Shadows stretched over the walls as warm candlelight filled the small cottage. I was traveling from room to room, placing and lighting candles on top of tables and windowsills so that my little abode would not feel so empty and dark. I love the way candles feel so cozy. Holding a tiny fire in your hand is somehow comforting. I had just lit the last candle and taken a step back to admire my handy work when a knock came at the door. Picking up the nearest candle, I went to answer it and got a small shock. Standing on my doorstep with a candle of his own was my neighbor, Jay Gatsby. He seemed to have his usual confidence, but I detected some hesitation or nervousness in his composure.
“Gatsby.” I felt stupid for stating the obvious.
“Nick.” He paused to take a breath.
“You doing alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I looked back over my shoulder to make sure no calamity had occurred in the past 30 seconds during which I had been engaged in my current conversation.
“Right. Good. I just wanted to check up on you, you see, with the power going out and all.”
“Oh yes. I’ve been lighting a few candles and things, so everything’s good.”
“Alright then.”
We were both silent. Neither of us knew how to continue the conversation. Gatsby stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and looked up at the sky.
“You can see the stars really well tonight.”
“Can you?” I stepped out of the doorway and onto the front porch to peer up at the heavens.
“Oh, you can.”
The stars were twinkling faintly in the night sky. They seemed so much brighter without all the street lamps to create light pollution. And there were so many more stars, little ones that I had never noticed before residing next to big constellations that dominated the sky. I could see Hercules and Draco very clearly and in my mind’s eye I drew lines between the stars.
“Beautiful.” I said. That was the only way to describe it. Gatsby murmured his agreement.
“You know, I actually know a bit about astronomy. I learned it while I was at Oxford,” he remarked.
“Really?”
“I could teach you. If you’d like that,” Gatsby offered.
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” I replied.
I knew Gatsby was looking for an excuse to share my company. However much it may claim to enjoy solitude, the human spirit can only stand being alone for so long. Everyone needs occasional contact with others. But whatever Gatsby’s reasons for coming to see me, they didn’t much matter. I was content to spend my time with him. We dragged a couple of chairs out to the front porch so we could observe the stars, and I brought a few blankets and candles to keep us warm during the cool July night. We sat gazing at the glorious show up above as Gatsby pointed out figures and patterns in the sky and told me the stories behind each one. Far from knowing “a bit,” the man was practically a living repository of knowledge about astronomy.
“Did you know, old sport, that the light from the stars we’re seeing right now actually takes years to reach earth? Gatsby’s voice was pierced with previously contained excitement.
“So the images we’re seeing are from a few years ago?”
“Yes.”
“So basically, we’re seeing the past.”
“Basically.”
“How do you know all this stuff, Gatsby?” I closed my eyes as a need for sleep started crowding at the back of my mind.
“I studied hard when I was at Oxford. I wanted to make the most of my education. And…” he paused, and I cracked one eye open.
“...and it helped me distract myself from other things.” Gatsby smiled.
“Ah. I understand,” I responded, though I wasn’t sure if I really did. Gatsby’s past seemed to be a whole confusing jumble that I didn’t really want to bring up right then. Tonight we were just two friends enjoying the stars.
“What’s that one, over there?” I gestured vaguely in the direction of a constellation and Gatsby happily launched into another explanation. My eyelids had begun to feel heavy. Wrapping my blanket around me, I closed my tired eyes.
---
I didn’t remember falling asleep when I woke up the next morning, but I found that I had been carefully placed on the couch in my living room with blankets laid over me. On the coffee table was a folded note. Sitting up in my nest of blankets, I rubbed my face and snatched up the piece of paper.
Dear Nick,
I enjoyed our time together last night. I hope I didn’t bore you with all my talk of the cosmos. If you’re willing, I’d love to do something like this again. Come see me whenever you’re available. You’ll always be welcome at my place.
-Jay
P.S. The power’s working again (I checked).
P.P.S. If I’m bothering you, don’t feel like you have to come over (but I would be delighted if you would).
I grinned a little. Jay. I supposed Gatsby had a first name, even if I never thought of it. I studied the handsome swirls of his cursive and tried to imagine him writing it. Even this short note communicated his quiet charm. I remembered the glow of the candlelight around him and the way the flickering flames were reflected in his eyes. His clear blue irises sparkled like the palest sapphires as he so avidly watched the stars. I snuck little glances at him while he talked when I thought he wouldn’t notice. As I folded up the note, I closed my eyes again and pictured another evening with Gatsby- No, Jay. Just me, Jay and the stars, existing together in our own blissful little corner of the universe.