Chapter Text
“now, i understand this sounds quite out of the blue—but i must ask, do you believe in shrimp?”
“whatever do you mean by that?”
“old sport, do you believe in shrimp?”
“i’m—i’m not sure i understand the question. you’re asking me if i think...shrimp are real or not?”
“exactly that.”
“well, then...i suppose i do believe in them, yes, because as far as i know, they’re real.”
he grinned. “that’s the spirit, old sport! i hope they’re real, too...”
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“what languages can you speak, nick?”
“um...english, for starters. i’d be flattering myself if i added spanish to the roster, but unfortunately, i’m certainly less than proficient...”
“that’s alright! i’m in a similar boat, then. all i truly know is english, and then some french phrases i picked up while stationed in france.”
“that’s impressive that you remember, even after all this time...”
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“what is that, old sport?”
“this? oh, this is a taki—you know, the chip? they’re a bit spicy. you haven’t seen them before?”
he smiled sadly. “in fact, i haven’t. i’m sure you understand how i may not have had the opportunity to do so in the past, old sport...”
“oh—i beg your pardon! ah—here, you should try one, then! they’re quite popular where i’m from.”
he accepted my offering.
“they’re—they’re delicious, old sport,” his eyes welled up with tears. a pained expression decorated his face.
“are they spicy?”
he simply nodded, sobbing.
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“nick, what do you think about the rain?”
“well, it’s just water from the sky. i don’t enjoy getting soaked very much, though.”
“oh, that certainly makes sense, old sport.”
he looked at me expectantly.
“...what about you?”
he smiled.
“in fact, i find it very delightful weather, old sport! of course, the mud is a bit unsavory, but perhaps it’s the memories my mind attaches to it that makes it so precious to me. it was raining when i went to your house that first time, remember?”
“of course i remember. although...you don’t have to ask what i think if you simply wanted to talk about the rain. i wouldn’t mind if you did so. i’d listen.”
“oh—but i truly do want to know your thoughts! i suppose you did catch me, though...i’ll try to be more straightforward, then.”
we were quiet afterwards, until he invited me to lunch like always. he smiled again and i could not think.
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“old sport, i do recall you said you did believe in shrimp once—has this sentiment continued to withstand your scrutiny?”
“i think so.”
“would you be interested in ordering the shrimp here, then? i’ve never tried it, since i—i’m a bit of a shrimp agnostic, you see. i don’t know, old sport, if their shrimp is...shrimp.”
“are you...scared of the possibility of shrimp not being real?”
“now, how would you come to that conclusion, old sport?”
“perhaps i’m just a quiet yet observant detective from a victorian mystery novel, conscious of every minute detail around me.”
to this, we both giggled, which confused me as the comment itself did not strike me as giggle-worthy.
“well then, how about we both order shrimp? that way, whatever it ends up being, we’ll experience it together.”
“deal.”
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“jay...”
“yes?”
“how do i put this...? what is it that compels you to—to take my opinions into so much consideration?”
“is this because of all these questions i ask you? if it’s causing any trouble, i can assure you i’ll stop—”
“no! it’s not like that.” i flushed. “it’s no trouble to me at all. i just don’t understand how—why you seem so interested in me, i suppose. i’m just...a normal person. there’s nothing of note about me. that’s why i’m confused, jay. i don’t quite comprehend where your fascination stems from.”
he wore an incredulous expression on his face, like i had either said something very stupid or i had said something very smart and he felt stupid for not understanding.
“nick, what on earth are you talking about? your mind is an enigma to me—in fact, i’m not quite sure i’ll ever unravel the mysteries you hide! everything about you fascinates me.”
“you speak too highly of me.”
“i’m speaking the truth! i wonder if i’ll ever understand how your head works—how you’re quiet and soft-spoken yet so heavily opinionated, how you claim not to be the ‘literary type,’ despite everything you’ve written, how you claim to be sane while you wear sweaters in the summer—”
“alright, i get it, i get it! you don’t have spell it out for me.” my face was certainly red at this point.
“i told you i’d be more straightforward, old sport, and i’m a man of my word! you did say you would listen as well, so now’s the time! as i was saying—ah, where was I? oh! you’re—you’re—oh no, i’m afraid my mind is blank at the moment...but you get the gist!”
“yes. yes, i do.”
“everything about you is so...so...puzzling, yet comforting! confusing, yet simple! a bit hard to read, yet...endearing, old sport. i’m horribly endeared by you.”
to this, i was speechless. i think my shock startled him, and his face reddened as he began gesturing wildly.
“oh—! i’m sorry, that must’ve been too much...my apologies, old sport—i’ve never had very many friends, you see, and i’m afraid i—i’m sorry. i’m not very sure how to act around you at times.”
“augh—there’s no need to apolgize so profusely! actually, i...”
i stopped, likely out of fear.
“in fact, i—you’re quite endearing to me yourself! i think i—i think that i’d try to find the answer to everything in the universe if you asked me.”
“really? you’re...this isn’t a joke, right?”
“why would i be joking?”
“you’re...oh, dear...”
on his face, his sheepish smile and embarrassed red tint shifted into some sort of confused mix of anguish and misery despite his relief, and he crumbled into himself as tears spilled out from his eyes and into his hands, which rushed to cover his face. for a moment i too was struck with confusion, until i remembered that the man before me had not always been the perfect, charming jay gatsby i was quite fond of. for a portion of his life, he was simply james gatz, alone and always wanting more. james gatz, who did anything and everything he could to reject his own being as simply means to an end. james gatz, who did not have very many friends even after his transformation into jay gatsby. if i had, in some impossible universe, gone through a similar development, i am sure that loneliness would, too, fill the hollows that my identity left behind.
but now was not the time for such thoughts, and i very quickly realized that i needed to do something. so i took him into my arms and held him close, and felt the fabric of his suit rustle as he wept.
“oh, i’m—i’m very sorry for this... i’m not even sure....i don’t know why i’m...what’s gotten into me...old sport.”
“don’t apologize.”
“but—”
“it’s quite alright if you don’t understand how you feel just yet.”
“...alright, then.”
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