The Great Gatsby - Chapter 2

Nick follows Tom to New York, where he meets Myrtle, Tom’s mistress. A drunken party ends violently when Tom breaks Myrtle’s nose. Nick sees the moral corruption of the wealthy and the recklessness of their lives. Summary by Dream AudioBooks

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter two of the Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
About half way between West Egg and New York, the
motor road hastily joins the railroad and runs beside it
for a quarter of a mile, so as to shrink
away from a certain desolate area of land. This is
a valley of ashes, a fantastic farm where ashes grow

(00:23):
like wheat, into ridges and hills, and grotesque gardens, where
ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke,
and finally, with a transcendent effort of men who move
dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a
line of gray cars crawls along an invisible track, gives

(00:46):
out a ghastly creek, and comes to rest. And immediately
the ash gray men swarm up with leaden spades and
stir up an impenetrable cloud, which screens their obscure operations
from your sight. But above the gray land and the
spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive,

(01:08):
after a moment the eyes of doctor T. J Eckelberg.
The eyes of doctor T. J Eckelberg are blue and gigantic.
Their irises are one yard high, they look out of
no face, but instead from a pair of enormous yellow
spectacles which pass over a non existent nose. Evidently some

(01:32):
wild wag of an oculist set them there to fatten
his practice in the Borough of Queen's, and then sank
down himself into eternal blindness, or forgot them and moved away.
But his eyes dimmed a little by many paintless days
under sun and rain brewed on over the solemn dumping ground.

(01:54):
The valley of Ashes is bounded on one side by
a small foul river, and when when the drawbridge is
up to let barges through, the passengers on waiting trains
can stare at the dismal scene for as long as
half an hour, there is always a halt there of
at least a minute. And it was because of this
that I first met Tom Buchanan's mistress. The fact that

(02:20):
he had one was insisted upon wherever he was known.
His acquaintances resented the fact that he turned up in
popular restaurants with her, and, leaving her at a table,
sauntered about chatting with whomsoever he knew. Though I was
curious to see her, I had no desire to meet
her but I did. I went up to New York

(02:42):
with Tom on the train one afternoon, and when we
stopped by the ash heaps, he jumped to his feet, and,
taking hold of my elbow, literally forced me from the car.
We're getting off. He insisted, I want you to meet
my girl. I think he'd tanked up a good deal

(03:02):
at Luncheon, and his determination to have my company bordered
on violence. The supercilious assumption was that on Sunday afternoon,
I had nothing better to do. I followed him over
a low, whitewashed railroad fence, and we walked back a
hundred yards along the road under Doctor Eckelberg's persistent stare.

(03:25):
The only building in sight was a small block of
yellow brick sitting on the edge of the waste land,
a sort of compact main street ministering to it and
contiguous to absolutely nothing. One of the three shops it
contained was for rent, and another was an all night restaurant,
approached by a trail of ashes. The third was a

(03:47):
garage repairs George B. Wilson cars bought and sold, and
I followed Tom inside. The interior was unprosperous and bare.
The only car visible was the dust covered wreck of
a ford, which crouched in a dim corner. It had
occurred to me that this shadow of a garage must

(04:08):
be a blind and that sumptuous and romantic apartments were
concealed overhead. When the proprietor himself appeared in the door
of an office, wiping his hands on a piece of waist,
he was a blond, spiritless man, anemic and faintly handsome.
When he saw us, a damp gleam of hope sprang

(04:29):
into his light blue eyes. Hello, Wilson, old man, said Tom,
slapping him jovially on the shoulder. How's business I can't complain,
answered Wilson, unconvincingly. When are you going to sell me
that car next week? I've got my man working on
it now, works pretty slow, don't he? No, he doesn't,

(04:55):
said Tom coldly. And if you feel that way about it,
maybe I'd better sell it somet quar else. After all,
I don't mean that, explained Wilson quickly. I just meant.
His voice faded off, and Tom glanced impatiently around the garage.
Then I heard footsteps on the stairs, and in a moment,

(05:16):
the thickish figure of a woman blocked out the light
from the office door. She was in the middle thirties
and faintly stout, but she carried her surplus flesh sensuously
as some women can. Her face above a spotted dress
of dark blue crape dichen contained no facet or gleam
of beauty, but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her,

(05:39):
as if the nerves of her body were continually smoldering.
She smiled slowly, and, walking through her husband as if
he were a ghost, shook hands with Tom, looking him
flush in the eye. Then she wet her lips, and
without turning around, spoke to her husband in a soft,
coarse voice. Get some chair, there's why don't you so

(06:00):
somebody can sit down. Oh sure, agreed Wilson hurriedly, and
went toward the little office, mingling immediately with the cement
color of the walls. A white ashen dust veiled his
dark suit and his pale hair, as it veiled everything
in the vicinity, except his wife, who moved close to Tom.

(06:23):
I want to see you, said Tom intently. Get on
the next train, all right, I'll meet you by the
news stand on the lower level. She nodded and moved away.
From him, just as George Wilson emerged with two chairs
from his office door. We waited for her down the

(06:43):
road and out of sight. It was a few days
before the fourth of July, and a gray, scrawny Italian
child was setting torpedoes in a row along the railroad track.
Terrible place, isn't it, said Tom, exchanging a frown with
doctor Eckleberg. Awful. It does her good to get away,

(07:06):
doesn't her husband object? Wilson, he thinks she goes to
see her sister in New York. He's so dumb he
doesn't know he's alive. So Tom Buchanan and his girl
and I went up together to New York, or not
quite together for missus. Wilson sat discreetly in another car.

(07:27):
Tom deferred that much to the sensibilities of those East
Eggers who might be on the train. She had changed
her dress to a brown figured muslin, which stretched tight
over her rather wide hips as Tom helped her to
the platform in New York. At the news stand, she
bought a copy of Town Cattle and a moving picture magazine,

(07:49):
and in the station drug store some cold cream and
a small flask of perfume. Upstairs, in the solemn echoing drive.
She let four taxicabs drive away before she selected a
new one, lavender colored with gray upholstery, And in this
we slid out from the mass of the station into
the glowing sunshine. But immediately she turned sharply from the

(08:12):
window and, leaning forward, tapped on the front glass. I
want to get one of those dogs, she said earnestly.
I want to get one for the apartment. They're nice
to have a dog. We backed up to a gray
old man who bore an absurd resemblance to John D. Rockefeller.

(08:33):
In a basket swung from his neck cowered a dozen
very recent puppies of an indeterminate breed. What kind are they,
asked missus Wilson eagerly, as he came to the taxi window.
All kinds? What kind you want, lady? I'd like to
get one of those police dogs. I don't suppose you
got that kind. The man peered doubtfully into the basket,

(08:57):
plunged in his hand, and drew one up, wriggling by
the back of the neck. That's no police dog, said Tom. No,
it's not exactly a police dog, said the man, with
disappointment in his voice. It's more of an airedale. He
passed his hand over the brown washrag of a back.

(09:17):
Look O that coat, some coat. That's a dog that'll
never bother you with catching cold. I think it's cute,
said Missus Wilson enthusiastically. How much is it that dog?
He looked at it admiringly. That dog will cost you
ten dollars the airdale. Undoubtedly there was an airdale concerned

(09:41):
in it somewhere, though its feet were startlingly. White changed
hands and settled down into Missus Wilson's lap, where she
fondled the weather proof coat with rapture. Is it a
boy or a girl? She asked delicately. That dog, that
dog's a boy. It's a bitch, said Tom decisively. Here's

(10:03):
your money, go and buy ten more dogs with it.
We drove over to Fifth Avenue, so warm and soft,
almost past Storrele on the summer Sunday afternoon that I
wouldn't have been surprised to see a great flock of
white sheep turned the corner hold on, I said, I
have to leave you here. No you don't, interposed Tom quickly.

(10:27):
Myrtle'll be hurt if you don't come up to the apartment.
Won't you myrtle, come on, she urged, I'll telephone my
sister Catherine. She's said to be very beautiful by people
who ought to know. Well. I'd like to, But we
went on, cutting back again over the park toward the
West hundreds. At one hundred fifty eighth Street, the cabs

(10:50):
stopped at one slice in a long white cake of
apartment houses, throwing a regal home coming glance around the neighborhood.
Miss missus Wilson gathered up her dog and her other
purchases and went haughtily in. I'm going to have the
mc keys come up, she announced, as we rose in
the elevator, And of course I got to call up

(11:12):
my sister too. The apartment was on the top floor,
a small living room, a small dining room, a small bedroom,
and a bath. The living room was crowded to the doors,
with a set of tapestried furniture entirely too large for it,
so that to move about was to stumble continually over

(11:33):
scenes of ladies swinging in the gardens of Versailles. The
only picture was an over enlarged photograph, apparently a hen
sitting on a blurred rock looked at from a distance. However,
the hen resolved itself into a bonnet, and the countenance
of a stout old lady beamed down into the room.

(11:55):
Several old copies of Town Tattle lay on the table,
together with a copy of Simon called Peter, and some
of the small scandal magazines of Broadway. Missus Wilson was
first concerned with the dog. A reluctant elevator boy went
for a box full of straw and some milk, to
which he added, on his own initiative, a tin of

(12:17):
large hard dog biscuits, one of which decomposed apathetically in
the saucer of milk all afternoon. Meanwhile, Tom brought out
a bottle of whiskey from a locked bureau drawer. I
have been drunk just twice in my life, and the
second time was that afternoon. So everything that happened has

(12:40):
a dim, hazy cast over it, although until after eight
o'clock the apartment was full of cheerful sun. Sitting on
Tom's lap, Missus Wilson called up several people on the telephone.
Then there were no cigarettes, and I went out to
buy some at the drug store on the corner. When
I came back they had disappeared, so I sat down

(13:01):
discreetly in the living room and read a chapter of
Simon called Peter. Either it was terrible stuff or the
whisky distorted things, because it didn't make any sense to me.
Just as Tom and Myrtle after the first drink, Missus
Wilson and I called each other by our first names, reappeared,

(13:22):
company commenced to arrive at the apartment door. The sister
Catherine was a slender, worldly girl of about thirty, with
a solid, sticky bob of red hair and a complexion
powdered milky white. Her eyebrows had been plucked and then
drawn on again at a more rakish angle, but the

(13:43):
efforts of nature toward the restoration of the old alignment
gave a blurred air to her face. When she moved about,
there was an incessant clicking as innumerable pottery bracelets jangled
up and down upon her arms. She came in with
such a prietary haste and looked around so possessively at
the furniture that I wondered if she lived here. But

(14:06):
when I asked her, she laughed immoderately, repeated my question aloud,
and told me she lived with a girl friend at
a hotel. Mister mc kee was a pale, feminine man
from the flat below. He had just shaved, for there
was a white spot of lather on his cheek bone,
and he was most respectful in his greeting to everyone

(14:27):
in the room. He informed me that he was in
the artistic game, and I gathered later that he was
a photographer and had made the dim enlargement of missus
Wilson's mother, which hovered like an ectoplasm on the wall.
His wife was shrill, languid, handsome and horrible. She told

(14:49):
me with pride that her husband had photographed her a
hundred and twenty seven times since they had been married.
Missus Wilson had changed her costu some time before, and
was now attired in an elaborate afternoon dress of cream
colored chiffon, which gave out a continual rustle as she
swept about the room. With the influence of the dress,

(15:12):
her personality had also undergone a change. The intense vitality
that had been so remarkable in the garage was converted
into impressive hauteur. Her laughter, her gestures, her assertions became
more violently affected moment by moment, and as she expanded,
the room grew smaller around her, until she seemed to

(15:34):
be revolving on a noisy, creaking pivot through the smoky air.
My dear, she told her sister in a high mincing shout.
Most of these fellows will cheat you every time. All
they think of is money. I had a woman up
here last week to look at my feet, and when
she gave me the bill, you'd have thought she had

(15:56):
my appendicitis out. What was the name of the woman,
asked missus mc kee, Missus Aberheart. She goes around looking
at people's feet in their own homes. I like your dress,
remarked missus mc kee. I think it's adorable. Missus Wilson
rejected the compliment by raising her eyebrow in disdain. It's

(16:20):
just a crazy old thing, she said. I just slip
it on sometimes when I don't care what I look like.
But it looks wonderful on you, if you know what
I mean, pursued missus mc kee. If Chester could only
get you in that pose, I think he could make
something of it. We all looked in silence at missus Wilson,

(16:40):
who had removed a strand of hair from over her
eyes and looked back at us with a brilliant smile.
Mister mc keee regarded her intently with his head on
one side, and then moved his hand back and forth
slowly in front of his face. I should change the light,
he said. After a moment, I'd like to bring out

(17:01):
the modeling of the features, and I'd try to get
hold of all the back hair. I wouldn't think of
changing the light, cried missus mc keee. I think it's her,
husband said sh and we all looked at the subject again,
whereupon Tom Buchanan yawned audibly and got to his feet.

(17:22):
You mc keyes have something to drink, he said, get
some more ice and mineral water, myrtle, before everybody goes
to sleep. I told that boy about the ice. Myrtle
raised her eyebrows in despair at the shiftlessness of the
lower orders. These people, you have to keep after them
all the time. She looked at me and laughed pointlessly.

(17:46):
Then she flounced over to the dog, kissed it with ecstasy,
and swept into the kitchen, implying that a dozen chefs
awaited her orders there. I've done some nice things out
on Long Island, asserted mister mc kee. Tom looked at
him blankly. Two of them we have framed downstairs, to what,

(18:10):
demanded Tom, two studies. One of them I call montalk
Point the gulls, and the other I call montalk Point
the sea. The sister Catherine sat down beside me on
the couch. Do you live down on Long Island too,

(18:31):
she inquired? I live at West Egg Really, I was
down there at a party about a month ago, at
a man named Gatsby's. Do you know him? I live
next door to him. Well, they say he's a nephew
or a cousin of Kayservillehelm's. That's where all his money
comes from. Really, she nodded. I'm scared of him. I'd

(18:56):
hate to have him get anything on me. This absorbing
information about my neighbor was interrupted by missus mc kee's
pointing suddenly at Catherine Chester. I think you could do
something with her, she broke out, But mister mc kee
only nodded in a bored way and turned his attention
to Tom. I'd like to do more work on Long

(19:19):
Island if I could get the entry. All I ask
is that they should give me a start, ask myrtle,
said Tom, breaking into a short shout of laughter as
missus Wilson entered with a tray. She'll give you a
letter of introduction, won't you? Myrtle do what she asked, startled,
you'll give mc kee a letter of introduction to your

(19:40):
husband so he can do some studies of him. His
lips moved silently for a moment as he invented George B.
Wilson at the gasolene pump or something like that. Catherine
leaned close to me and whispered in my ear. Neither
of them can stand the person they're married to, can't

(20:03):
They can't stand them. She looked at Myrtle and then
at Tom. What I say is why go on living
with them if they can't stand them? If I was them,
i'd get a divorce and get married to each other
right away. Doesn't she like Wilson either. The answer to

(20:23):
this was unexpected. It came from Myrtle, who had overheard
the question, and it was violent and obscene. You see,
cried Katherine triumphantly. She lowered her voice again. It's really
his wife that's keeping them apart. She is a Catholic
and they don't believe in divorce. Daisy was not a Catholic,

(20:47):
and I was a little shocked at the elaborateness of
the lie. When they do get married, continued Catherine, they're
going west to live for a while until it blows over.
It'd be more discreet to go to Europe. Oh do
you like Europe, she exclaimed surprisingly. I just got back

(21:08):
from Monte Carlo. Really, just last year I went over
there with another girl. Stay long, No, we just went
to Monte Carlo and back. We went by way of Marseilles.
We had over twelve hundred dollars when we started, but
we got jipped out of it all in two days

(21:28):
in the private rooms. We had an awful time getting back.
I can tell you, God, how I hated that town.
The late afternoon sky bloomed in the window for a moment,
like the blue honey of the Mediterranean. Then the shrill
voice of missus mc kee called me back into the room.

(21:49):
I almost made a mistake, too, she declared vigorously. I
almost married a little kike who'd been after me for years.
I knew he was below me. Everybody kept saying to me, Lucille,
that man's way below you. But if I hadn't met Chester,
he'd have got me. Sure, yes, But listen, said Myrtle Wilson,

(22:11):
nodding her head up and down. At least you didn't
marry him. I know I didn't. Well, I married him,
said Myrtle ambiguously. And that's the difference between your case
and mine. Why did you, Myrtle demanded Katherine, Nobody forced
you to. Myrtle considered. I married him because I thought

(22:36):
he was a gentleman, she said. Finally, I thought he
knew something about breeding. But he wasn't fit to lick
my shoe. You were crazy about him for a while,
said Katherine. Crazy about him, cried Myrtle incredulously, who said
I was crazy about him. I never was any more
crazy about him than I was about that man there,

(23:00):
She pointed suddenly at me, and every one looked at
me accusingly. I tried to show by my expression that
I had played no part in her past. The only
crazy I was was when I married him. I knew
right away I made a mistake. He borrowed somebody's best
suit to get married, and and never even told me

(23:20):
about it. And then the man came after it one
day when he was out, Oh is that your suit?
I said, this is the first I ever heard about it,
but I gave it to him, and then I lay
down and cried to beat the band all afternoon. She
really ought to get away from him, resumed Catherine to me.

(23:41):
They've been living over that garage for eleven years, and
Tom's the first sweetie she ever had. The bottle of whiskey.
A second one was now in constant demand by all present,
excepting Catherine, who felt just as good on nothing at all.
Tom rang for the janitor and sent him for some

(24:03):
celebrated sandwiches, which were a complete supper in themselves. I
wanted to get out and walk southward toward the park
through the soft twilight, but each time I tried to go,
I became entangled in some wild, strident argument, which pulled
me back, as if with ropes, into my chair. Yet

(24:25):
high over the city, our line of yellow windows must
have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual
watcher in the darkening streets, and I was hymn too,
looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously
enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life. Myrtle

(24:49):
pulled her chair close to mine and Suddenly, her warm
breath poured over me. The story of her first meeting
with Tom. It was on the two little seats facing
each other that are always the last ones left on
the train. I was going up to New York to
see my sister and spend the night. He had on
a dress, suit and patent leather shoes, and I couldn't

(25:12):
keep my eyes off him. But every time he looked
at me, I had to pretend to be looking at
the advertisement over his head. When we came into the station,
he was next to me and his white shirt front
pressed against my arm, and so I told him I'd
have to call a policeman, but he knew I lied.
I was so excited that when I got into a
taxi with him, I didn't hardly know I wasn't getting

(25:34):
into a subway train. All I kept thinking about, over
and over was you can't live forever. You can't live forever.
She turned to missus mc kee, and the room rang
full of her artificial laughter. My dear, she cried, I'm
going to give you this dress as soon as I'm
through with it. I've got to get another one tomorrow.

(25:57):
I'm going to make a list of all the things.
I've got to get a massage and a wave, and
a collar for the dog, and one of those cute
little ash trays where you touch a spring, and a
wreath with a black silk bow from my mother's grave
that'll last all summer. I got a right down a list,
so I won't forget all the things I gotta do.

(26:19):
It was nine o'clock almost immediately afterward. I looked at
my watch and found it was ten. Mister mc kee
was asleep on a chair, with his fists clenched in
his lap, like a photograph of a man of action.
Taking out my handkerchief, I wiped from his cheek the
remains of the spot of dried lather that had worried

(26:40):
me all the afternoon. The little dog was sitting on
the table, looking with blind eyes through the smoke, and
from time to time, groaning faintly. People disappeared, reappeared, made
plans to go somewhere, and then lost each other. Searched
for you, each other found each other a few feet away.

(27:03):
Some time toward midnight, Tom Buchanan and Missus Wilson stood
face to face, discussing in impassioned voices whether Missus Wilson
had any right to mention Daisy's name. Daisy, Daisy, Daisy,
shouted missus Wilson. I'll say it whenever I want to.
Daisy Day. Making a short, deft movement, Tom Buchanan broke

(27:30):
her nose with his open hand. Then there were bloody
towels upon the bathroom floor, and women's voices scolding and
high over the confusion, a long broken wail of pain.
Mister McKee awoke from his doze and started in a
daze toward the door. When he had gone half way,

(27:52):
he turned around and stared at the scene, his wife
and Catherine scolding and consoling as they stumbled here and
there among the crowded furniture with articles of aid, and
the despairing figure on the couch, bleeding fluently and trying
to spread a copy of Town Tattle over the tapestry
scenes of Versailles. Then mister mc keee turned and continued

(28:15):
on out the door, taking my hat from the chandelier.
I followed. Come to lunch some day, he suggested, As
we groaned down in the elevator, where anywhere, keep your
hands off the lever snapped the elevator boy, I beg

(28:35):
your pardon, said mister mc keee with dignity. I didn't
know I was touching it, all right, I agreed, I'll
be glad to I was standing beside his bed, and
he was sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear,
with a great portfolio in his hands, Beauty and the

(28:56):
Beast Loneliness Old Grocery Horse, brooklyn Bridge. Then I was
lying half asleep in the cold lower level of the
Pennsylvania station, staring at the morning Tribune and waiting for
the four o'clock train. End of chapter two.