Eventually Daisy broke the silence.
“Tom, I don’t know what’s happening to us,” she whispered. Her usual intoxicating, flowing voice was gone. Now her words were thin and wavering.
Tom didn’t reply, but he moved his hand to cover Daisy’s. A rustling noise could be heard from the small window in the room, but neither of them paid it any attention. Again, the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. They were still absorbing the gruesome developments of the past day.
“Are you alright?” Tom asked her.
Daisy nodded, not smiling.
He proceeded to tell her about how they had stopped at Wilson's shop and gone inside to find out the cause of the commotion they had noticed on their drive home. He neglected to share with her the nature of his scandalous relationship with Myrtle, or his breakdown on the drive home. As he described his encounter with the officer, the husband’s state of grief, and the damage done to the woman’s body, Daisy sat staring at her plate of chicken, trembling slightly.
“I can’t believe that lunatic hit her, I just can’t,” Tom continued, his voice trembling with emotion, “How could the bastard not have seen poor- the poor woman? He must have been driving at a tremendous speed…”
Daisy looked troubled, but Tom was too busy recounting his drive past Wilson’s shop.
“Tom, that's not what happened. Gatsby, he’s not- he- the truth is—”
“Oh to hell with the truth, Daisy!” shouted Tom, “There’s nothing true about any of this. Nobody speaks a word of truth nowadays, not you, not Nick, and not goddamn Gatsby.”
“Oh Tom, you’re right, I'm terribly sorry. Tom, I was just so confused earlier today, it must have been the heat. You know I didn’t mean those dreadful things I said,” Daisy pled.
After a few quiet moments she asked, “What do you think will happen to Gatsby?”
“What does it matter, Daisy? Probably will get picked up by the police, if they find him.”
Daisy sniffed, and began to pick at her food. The contemplative silence returned to the kitchen, and the bright bulb resumed its humming, like a constant reminder of something inescapable. Daisy began to wonder what Gatsby would say if confronted by the police. Would he lie to protect her guilt? Even after she refused to leave with him, despite their love?
“Perhaps it would be better if we stayed with your parents in New York for a while, just until things calm down?” she asked Tom, nonchalantly.
His only response was to take a large drink of ale. He didn’t want to do any thinking at the moment, he just wanted to see Myrtle again. Her sudden death still wasn’t fully registered in his mind. Only a few days prior her was with her in New York, watching her play with the little puppy. He remembered the day they bought their apartment, and how excited she was that it was on the top floor. He remembered how enthralled she was when he let her decorate the place, how she had chosen the regal, overpriced furniture set that wouldn't fit through the door. He remembered all things they had done together in that cramped New York apartment; the murky parties and sloshed intimacy had grown to be an important part of his life, an escape even.
“Tom?” Daisy asked him again, “What about New York?”
“Oh, yes. In fact, how about we go to Chicago for a few months again?” he asked. Chicago might help him lose some memories of Myrtle, provide a chance for him to move on and find new opportunities.
“Oh darling, let’s!” Daisy exclaimed, smiling vaguely, the rich tones of her voice returning, “It’ll be best for Pammy, you know.”
They sat there for the remaining hours of the cool night, planning their getaway. The chicken remained uneaten in the pan, and the bulb continued its drone even after the two retired to their rooms just as the rosy rays of the sun began to shine, like bloody streaks stretched across the rippled sky.
I chose to write a missing scene from F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. By choosing the scene where Daisy and Tom converse after the evening of Myrtle's death I was able to create dialogue explaining their disappearance and conjecturing about the change in their relationship following the past eventful day. To match Fitzgerald's writing style I chose to use motifs to represent themes. I used motifs from the book such as temperature and Daisy's voice to show an understanding of the novel, and created an original motif to give the scene originality. In my scene I described the temperature as "cooled in the darkness of the evening, but the kitchen was still warm and humid". Since heat represents tension in the novel, the fact that the world has cooled but the kitchen is still hot is a symbol representing that most of the tension with others has subsided, but Daisy and Tom are still at odds. In the book Daisy's voice represents her classy haughtiness due to her affluence. The fact that her voice becomes "thin and wavering" symbolizes her sudden vulnerability. However, after an attempt at sincerity Daisy quickly returns to her "rich tones" by lying and returning to her usual vanity. My original motif is of the light bulb and its drone representing truth. The buzz of the light is constantly present in the room, but is ignored by the two. As Daisy tries to confess to Tom that it was her who hit Myrtle he cuts her off, and she eventually gives up. The two are majorly dishonest characters, and so the presence of truth in the form of an irritating background noise effectively represents their regard for the truth as something unimportant and occasionally bothersome.