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#she never could've gotten from Tom or Gatsby
nothinggold13 · 7 months
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I said in the tags of my recent screencaps of Nick and Daisy dancing, "do you ever think. that all daisy really needed was a friend?" and apparently those tags resonated with more people than I thought they would. Now I think they call for a little elaboration.
On their first meeting in the book, it is established that Nick neither attended Daisy's wedding nor met her baby (who is 3 years old). Daisy says herself, "We don't know each other very well, Nick. Even if we are cousins." And yet in this same scene Daisy says that his arrival has her "paralyzed with happiness" and refers to him as "an absolute rose." She speaks of him and to him as if they are dearly close despite her own admittance that they hardly know each other at all. (Of course, this is easily explained when Nick says, "[She looked] up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had." Daisy has a way of drawing people in, and making them feel important. I'm sure people make different things of this, some positive and some negative, but I won't dwell on it.)
But, perhaps more telling than the way she talks to Nick, is the fact that the first thing Daisy does when she has a moment alone with him is to confide in him. She says, "We don't know each other very well," and then, moments later, begins a story asking, "Would you like to hear?" She says she's grown cynical. She says she felt abandoned. She says — famously — "That's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool."
And then she laughs it off.
Nick himself calls it insincere, "[...]as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me."
But... I don't know. I've been a Daisy defender since high school, and that's never gone away; Nick's perspective may communicate a lot of truth that we wouldn't know otherwise, but he is not infallible. And, personally, when it comes to the depths of what's going on with Daisy, I think he's rather blind.
Daisy has a philandering husband who a) physically abuses his mistress and b) canonically bruised Daisy in a way she brushes off carelessly but confesses, again, within her first meeting with Nick, so I don't believe it's a big jump to say he's likely been physically abusive towards her, too. And with that in mind, I think it's strange to expect anything Daisy does to be perfectly and infallibly sincere, when, at her core, she is always in a fight for survival.
(It's the same reason I believe she stays with Tom at the end, and lets Gatsby take the blame. Tom is the only security she knows. Gatsby hangs in the balance. She can't run away with him, now.)
So, to get back to my point, I don't think Daisy was being dishonest in her confessions to Nick. I think she was being painfully honest— so painful, in fact, that she had to cover it up with that cynical mask she's gotten so good at wearing. Daisy is not a beautiful little fool; she only wishes she was.
And then Nick appears, and they're not close, but they could be, and she jumps to trust him: to tell him everything she's scared to say aloud: to have him listen. "Would you like to hear?" she asks. It's more than a question. It's a plea.
I think of Daisy knowing her driver's name, and thinking it important to use it. I think of Daisy knowing Jordan's name when they were younger, when Jordan was two years her junior and admired her desperately. I think of Daisy calling Nick "my dearest one" along with every other kind word she ever said to him. I think of Daisy reaching and reaching and reaching, clinging desperately to anyone who might hold on to her.
And they all let her down.
I guess those who see Daisy as disingenuous at her core wouldn't read it this way at all, but I do. I think Daisy loves desperately, trying to fill a hole that is never filled; I think she's looking for someone to save her, and nobody ever cares enough to listen.
Not Jordan. Not Nick. Not even Gatsby, despite his obsession.
And maybe none of them could have saved her, but they could have listened. They could have cared. They could have asked her about the letter that made her nearly call off her wedding to Tom, instead of dressing her up and pushing her to go through with it. They could've supported her, and not gone out to party with her cheating husband and his mistress. They could've stopped asking for too much and accepted the fact she couldn't give it. They could've done something.
Because all Daisy really needed was a friend. And she never truly had one.
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