There is not
much to tell about the rest. A week or two later, I left the Egg to move the
Midwest. Gatsby came to say bye as I boarded the train. It was a rainy day.
Droplets of drizzles had wet my hair ever since the morning. And as a day
went by, it began to come down harder and harder. By the time I was in my seat,
ready for the train to take off, the fury of the rain had completely taken over
the Valley of the Ashes.
Gatsby was there, standing by himself, staring blankly towards the rear end of the train. There was "something gorgeous about him." I waved to him good-bye through the foggy glass window of the train. I don't think he saw. I couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. Was it just the rain? Or did that trail of water breaking off of his chin start from his eyes? Even before I could gather my thoughts, the train started moving. I peeped out the window to take one last glance at the town. To my surprise-Dr. T.J. Eckleberg was looking at me, and at Gatsby. His two blue eyes completely open and as clear as ever. The dust had been washed away by the heavy rain, taking with it the veil that was clouding its eyes from seeing what the world has to offer.
My
eyes turned to the rear window of the train, where I last saw Gatsby through.
But he was no longer there. And that was the last time we saw each other that year.
Nick Carraway, the narrator, never acknowledges that he is an amiable pimp. Nick rents his West Egg house with a male, "when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and I went out to the country alone." (p3).
