The Great Gatsby Monologue

“You must know Gatsby.”
That familiar pang of pain whenever Gatsby’s name is mentioned resonates in my stomach. “Gatsby,” I demand, ‘what Gatsby?” Before Nick can reply, Tom wedges one thick, ropy arm into Nick’s and hustles him out onto the porch. Internally I compose myself, contorting my distressed expression into a cool, polite mask for the guests. Four candles flicker in the wind, alighting the room in a romantic, rosy glow. “Why candles?” I flutter, honing in on the first silly, insignificant thing I can think of. “In two weeks it’ll be the longest day of the year!” My voice is soft and melodic. I can feel myself moulding back into the role of the beautiful wife. Tom’s mouth curves into a sneer, and he rolls his eyes impatiently at my bumbling. A flicker of anger

It’s humorous watching the effort he is making to appear inconspicuous when he has already broadcast the fact that he has a mistress to the entire community. “Tom, I need to speak with you,” I say stepping into the dining room. Tom’s eyes snap up to meet mine, his face flushed a little red. He holds up a finger, “Just a moment.” He continues speaking to her right in front of my eyes. Although from this side of the conversation, it could easily be interpreted as a business call. Finally, he hangs up, avoiding eye contact with me a few seconds longer by busying himself with his suit jacket. “What?” he says irritatedly, as if I’m inconveniencing him. “Who was that?” I glance down and notice my fingers twisting my wedding ring subconsciously. “Business,” he says shortly, his bulging arms crossed over his chest defensively. “You shouldn’t answer the phone when we have guests, it’s very rude.” He rolls his eyes, and huffs out a breath of air. Absently I say, “It’s nearly Pammy’s feeding time,” reminding him of his lifelong connection to me.
“Is that all?” he dismisses with a wave of his