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The news of Daisy’s marriage to Tom Buchanan reaches Nick when he’s in Europe, and even in the midst of the daily worries and toil of combat it proves to be something that he wonders about. It’s a strange match-up, although only to people who know both of them well; to any outsider they would appear to be a charming couple, one of the many that flicker in and out of society easily, and anyone introduced to them during a night out would think them to be nothing remarkable. But to anyone acquainted with them on a personal level their marriage seems something of a mystery, and this is the case with Nick. He supposes that the simple explanation for it would be money, because Tom is certainly wealthy beyond any girl’s hopes and dreams, and that fact provides a convenient reason for it.
But this falls short of being satisfying to Nick because he knows that this can’t be the entire truth. Money was certainly a factor in the decision– it would be pointless to act as if it wasn’t– and yet Daisy would never allow herself to marry just for the sake of money alone. Nick may not know Daisy well but he knows her well enough to know this, and he’s certain that there has to have been some emotional aspect to it; in short, there has to have been love. Naturally this only leads to more uncertainty. Tom is not the sort of man to inspire love in someone like Daisy, and even in college Nick had known this was his final stage of emotional development. Tom is rough and abrasive and domineering, and although men like him are common in the world it’s still strange to imagine that Daisy could love a man like that.
But whatever the case may be, Nick finds the issue to be far from his mind during the two days that he spends with them in Chicago. After the war it’s strange to be back in the familiarity of the American West, but the whirlwind of people and places and things keeps him from thinking too much about it and he finds himself drawn into the depths of society. Daisy is thrilled to see him despite the fact that they were never truly close and Tom is too, always referring back to their days at Yale when Nick had helped him write essays on literature that he could never really understand.
They’re living in a house just outside of the city in a quiet, secluded area. It’s rented, Daisy informs Nick, not bought outright– they haven’t decided where they want to permanently settle yet, and Tom seems to be harboring ideas of moving to the East Coast. That makes sense to Nick when he recalls the way Tom loved to play the part of New England wealth at Yale, imitating their knit sweaters and poise. It had, of course, ended up coming off as an inexperienced actor playing a role, because Tom has none of the innate quietness and subtlety of those types.
But on the first night that Nick stays with them, he finds himself alone in the parlor with Daisy for a familial catch-up and the issue of their marriage comes to his mind again. Seeing them together makes it seem natural enough, but it’s still strange for some indefinable reason and he isn’t forward enough to ask about it. Daisy, however, has the remarkable ability to discern what people think about her and so she must have some idea of what Nick is pondering over.
“I did wonder,” she begins, “what you must have thought when you heard that I was marrying Tom. They told me you were over in Europe so I knew I wouldn’t get to see you until after we were married, but when Tom told me he had known you in college I could imagine what your reaction was.”
“I don’t know,” Nick replies carefully. “I was happy for you both, of course, but I guess when I read the letter I thought– well, I don’t know what I thought.”
“I knew you must have thought it was odd,” she says with a smile, and although Nick tried to protest to keep up appearances it doesn’t do much to hide the truth. “I don’t blame you. I would too if I was anyone else but me. But there is…” She sighs before starting again. “The first time I saw him, I didn’t think he was anything special. He’s handsome, you know, but of course so many men are, and it doesn’t mean anything.” Nick nods silently. “But when he talked to me–” She pauses, looking down at her hands as if she’s lost in remembrance. The wedding band on her finger catches the light, the diamond glittering as if it’s captured the memory. “It was like I was the only person in the world to him. Not the only girl– the only person. Do you know what that feels like?”
Nick does. Whatever myriad of flaws Tom may have, whatever he may say or do or think that’s less than ideal, his attention is constant and unwavering. In college it had been that way too, with Tom always oddly willing to listen to Nick’s latest writing project or thoughts on authors that a football star wouldn’t have read. “I guess,” he answers, “I can imagine what it’s like.”
——————
Tom invites him to go look at the stables after dinner on the last night Nick is staying with them. Nick has no interest in polo or ponies, but it’s Tom, so he doesn’t say no. It’s begun to snow in the evening, the type of snow that’s large flakes that fall straight down without any annoying wind to blow them directly into their faces, and the sky is dull and gray with the remnants of the light of the day. But Tom knows the way there perfectly and he leads Nick down the path, their shoes crunching through the soft layer of snow onto the dead grass.
They talk on the way, mostly about nothing important: Tom’s financial situation, Nick’s family, what their old college acquaintances are doing. The stable itself is pleasant when they get there, dimly lit by overhead lights, and Tom introduces each of the ponies by name and pats their noses with an almost paternal affection. It’s touching to see someone like Tom act that way– or it would be if the ponies weren’t also something he owned. But after a suitable amount of time there’s nothing to do except go back the way they came and so they do, Tom shutting the stable doors behind them to keep out the cold.
Tom walks slowly, evidently in no hurry to get back to the house. “I didn’t know you were Daisy’s cousin until she told me,” he begins suddenly. “When she told me that she had a cousin named Nick who went to Yale with me I couldn’t believe it. I said that surely she didn’t mean Nick Carraway, and she said that it was you and so I said that we’d have to get around to seeing you sometime.” He scuffs the snow with the toe of his riding boot. “‘Course, we got married when you were away in the war, so that didn’t work out. But now…”
“Now I’m back,” Nick says to simply sum it up. But something about Tom’s words makes him wonder. Men like Tom know many other people, too many to name or count or even fully recall. So, then, why is he one of the ones that Tom wants to have in his life? The question is so confusing to him that before he thinks better of it he adds, “But I didn’t know you remembered me that well. I thought that… well, it’s been a while, so…”
“You think I’d forget you? Please,” Tom laughs. “How could I forget Yale’s Shakespeare who helped me write all those essays? No,” he continues, his voice suddenly quieter, “of course I wouldn’t.” They walk on in perfect silence for a moment, the snow deadening any sound around them except for the noise of their footsteps. “I guess you just made a lasting impression on me.” That doesn’t exactly clear anything up for Nick, but he lets the silence fall again.
They’re almost at the house now, and its windows are filled with a golden light that reflects off of the snow. It’s a pretty picture, but Tom stops suddenly and turns back to Nick. “Your hands must be cold,” Tom says, frowning as if the thought just occurred to him. They are; Nick isn’t wearing gloves and in the midst of their conversation he’d forgotten to put them in his pockets. Considering the fact that he himself hadn’t noticed it, he’s surprised that Tom did.
“It’s not bad,” Nick automatically replies, but before he can move to fumble for his coat pockets Tom reaches for his wrists and brings Nick’s hands together in a pose of mock prayer before placing them in between his.
“You should take care of yourself. I heard about the things that happened to men over in the war, you know– losing legs or getting their faces blown off. I’m glad that didn't happen to you, so you should be careful,” Tom instructs. His hands are warm, very warm, and they’re large enough to cover Nick’s completely. He presses down on them firmly, just slightly too hard to be totally comfortable, a thoughtless show of force that undercuts the moment. Athlete’s hands, Nick thinks distantly, the grip of a man who thinks of life as something to dominate and impress himself upon. But the warmth of them remains, and in the dark and cold and snow it feels to Nick as if they’re the only thing in the world that’s warm at this very moment.
“I will,” Nick promises quietly, not compelled enough to force himself away from Tom’s touch. It’s care, genuine care, in the same way that Tom had sought Nick out at Yale for no evident or good reason. Daisy’s words come back to him unbidden: It was like I was the only person in the world to him. And that is perfectly how this feels: Tom sees and thinks of no one else in the universe other than him right now, and although Tom’s considerations are clumsy and his displays of affection are brusque at best there’s a strange and compelling sincerity to them that Nick is unable to ignore.
Nick understands very well how Daisy could fall in love with Tom.