Sacrifice for a Friend

It was a normal day, at least it seemed to be. I was at my desk doing work, waiting for Gatsby to call me just as he said he would.

Suddenly, I got this feeling in my chest that something was terribly wrong. I got this feeling that Gatsby was in trouble. This feeling that he needed someone. My hand reached for the phone, and I got in my mind to dial my friend's number to check on him. However, I never dialed the number. I put the phone down, gathered my belongings, and went out the door. A feeling of uneasiness bubbled up inside me, and soon I was running down the sidewalk, frantically trying to hail a cab.

-xXx-

I burst in through the door of Gatsby's mansion, and frantically began searching through the large, echoing hallways of the uncharacteristically empty house, calling his name.

"Gatsby!" My voice echoed throughout the emptiness, as I searched the rooms and chambers, "Gatsby!" There was no response. I continued to call out his name.

"Gatsby! Uggh! Where is that man?" I stopped calling for a moment and listened, as I searched throughout the house, thinking that I might hear something of an indicator as to where my neighbor was.

My luck came with the sound of footsteps, footsteps that were coming from one of the courtyards outside. My fear and foreboding increased dramatically as I followed the noise outside. When I got there, the sight I beheld was the most horrifying sight. I saw Gatsby climbing up the ladder from the swimming pool that he had never used until now, and standing on the other side of the pool was the widower, George Wilson, raising and aiming a gun towards him.

It all happened so fast. My actions worked ahead of my thoughts and my natural instinct kicked in. "JAY! WATCH OUT!" My voice echoed loudly throughout the courtyard and I was running between Wilson and Gatsby. That was when I heard the gunshot. I froze. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, and blood began to pool on the cobbled floor around me.

There was another shot, followed by a thump, as George Wilson's body hit the ground behind me. I saw Gatsby get out of the pool, and run towards me. My head began to spin. I couldn't move. I was gasping for breath. My vision was blurry. I was slowly drifting from consciousness. The last thing I remembered was Gatsby at my side, talking to me. His voice sounded distant and far away, and my view of his face was blurry and distorted.

"Stay with me, old sport. I called the ambulance. Stay with me, old sport..." That was when my vision went black.

-xXx-

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a bed, in a white room. I felt exhausted. I could not feel my legs. In fact, I felt absolutely nothing from my waist down.

There was a man in a white coat at my bedside.

"Where am I?" I asked.

The man turned, "Ahh, Mr. Carraway, it's good to see that you're alive. In fact, you're quite lucky to 're in the hospital, my boy."

At that moment, I realized that the elderly man was a doctor. "You got shot." he continued, "We were able to surgically remove the bullet. But, although we saved your life, we couldn't save your legs. Unfortunately, it's left you paralyzed from the waist down."

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't form any words. I was shocked by the news. I could never walk again. I could never live the normal life i'd always wanted. I would be handicapped, stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. You can learn to maneuver the chair, you know. You'll get used to it. Still! I can't walk anymore! I've lost the use of my legs. Frustration and sadness bubbled up inside me.

"Are you positive there isn't a way for me to walk again?"

The doctor nodded sadly. "The impact of bullet broke your spine and paralyzed isn't a chance. I'm sorry."

I sighed, "Good job Nick, you did a stupid thing. Getting yourself shot. After hating myself and my stupidity for a moment, I remembered. I remembered why I took that bullet.

"Is Gatsby okay?"

"Mr. Gatsby is fine. He insisted on following the ambulance on the way here. He was very worried about you though. Left 'im pretty frazzled. He refused to go home, so we let him stay in the waiting room. He came to see you after the operation. He left his number for us to call him when you woke up, and then left."

"Can you call him please, sir?"

The doctor nodded.

"You just go on and get some rest."

I settled back down, with the intention of not going back to sleep while I waited for my friend. However, my eyelids felt heavy, and soon they were closed again, and I drifted back into a dreamless slumber.

-xXx-

The next time I awoke, I opened my eyes to see the combed blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and pinstriped suit that was my friend.

My eyelids fluttered, and I turned my head towards him.

When he saw me his smile returned, "You're awake, old sport."

"Yeah. Not much use though. I can't walk."

"I know, but that doesn't matter." Gatsby said, shaking his head, "You saved my life, old sport. I owe it to you. Thank you."

There was an awkward silence.

"The doctor said you can go home in a few weeks."

A few weeks! That was a long time. But even so, it sounded good. I was not sure how long I had been in the hospital for, but it felt like it had been several days.

"How long have I actually been here?" I asked Gatsby, "It feels like it's been a long time."

"We brought you in this morning."

"Really? It's been a long day then."

"Are you hungry, old sport?"

"A little."

"You want me to go get you something to eat?"

Food sounded good, and when I thought about it, I was actually starving.

"Sure, if you don't mind."

"Nah, old sport, you saved my life. I can do that much. Anything particular you want?"

I shook my head, "Something light. I don't know how this operation is gonna affect my stomach."

"Alright, i'll be back soon, old sport." With that he turned and left the room.

-xXx-

A month passed, and I was beginning to get tired of being stuck in the hospital. The good news was, I was almost healed. The bad news was, I was still going to be paralyzed for the rest of my life. The little speck of hope I had while spending all this time at the hospital had flickered and gone away.

However, my hopes rose back up one morning when I woke up to the sunlight streaming in from my window. I found that the doctor was once again in the room with me. I noticed there were folded clothes on the end of the bed.

"Your friend brought you a clean set of clothes." He said.

I nodded.

He tried to help me sit up, but I put my hand out to stop him and then used my arms to prop myself into a sitting position. And with as little of his assistance as possible, I was able to get them on. It wasn't that I didn't like him, he was kind to me and he had been for the month I had been confined here. It was just that, even with my disability, I had been doing physical therapy and practicing the use of only my arms and balancing myself for the while I had been here, and I was a grown man. I was thirty. Perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

Upon getting my clothes on, the hospital bed covers were folded back at the end of the bed, and I was sitting up, leaning against the bed frame for support. While I had full use of my arms and upper body, balance was still going to be difficult.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in." I said.

A young nurse poked her head into the room. "Mr. Gatsby is here to pick up Mr. Carraway, sir." she told the doctor.

"Thank you, Nancy." the doctor nodded, "Send him in."

Gatsby came into the room pushing the nicest golden and green leather wheelchair that I had ever seen.

"Got this for you, old sport. To thank you for saving my life."

Wow. That's for me? That is such a beautiful chair. It looks like Gatsby's car.

"You ready to go, old sport?"

"Never been more ready."

With that, the doctor and Gatsby both helped me into the comfortable chair, and my neighbor was pushing me out the door.

-xXx-

When we had finally left that white-roomed hospital, we were standing in front, near the sidewalk.

"Old sport?"

I looked up over my shoulder, "Yeah?"

"I know I already said thank you. But there isn't anything I could do or say that I feel is enough to make you realize how much gratitude I feel towards you for saving my life. That's more honorable than anything I ever did. And I'm sorry if I've ever done anything to offend you or anger you. Or if I've ever been controlling or demanding. I'm sorry for not telling you the full truths about myself. I apologize if I've ever done anything that's caused you grief. I've never had a real friend before, so I don't really know how to act. I don't really deserve to be saved, there's a lot of things I've done that I'm not proud of." He paused, and then continued, "I guess...what I'm trying to say is...why? Why did you save me out of all people?" He studied me with his bright blue eyes that were now solemn and calculating.

I was speechless for a moment. I couldn't think of what to say. I had never fully approved of Gatsby from the start, but hearing him speak those words made him...more...honorable.

"Jay," I started, "Like I said before, you're worth the whole damn bunch put together."

His smile returned.

"So are you you know, old sport. You may not be wealthy or famous, but you saved a man's life. That's more important than money, don't you think?"

I nodded, "Yeah. Hey, Gatsby? Did Daisy ever call you?"

His face fell, "Yeah," he said solemnly, "She called me to say goodbye. Told me her and Tom were leaving town."

"I see."

"I suppose she'll come back though. What do you think old sport?"

"Maybe."

There was another awkward silence as we looked out at the bustling city in front of us, both mindful, just thinking. Without a word, Gatsby started to push my new wheelchair towards the sidewalk, towards the crowds. A few people stared, but I pretended not to notice. I didn't really care what all those wealth-obsessed, corrupted people thought of me.

"So what do we do next, Gatsby? I'm a cripple. So I can't do as much as I used to."

"Well, old sport, I suppose you're stuck with me then."

"I guess so."

We briefly exchanged glances. "How about breakfast?" He asked.

"Sounds good. I'm starving anyway."

We smiled at one another before we turned our gazes back to the city ahead. I leaned against the back of the comfortable chair and sighed. I was stuck with Gatsby now. That wasn't so bad.

As I scanned my gaze about, it caught the all-seeing eyes of Doctor T.J. Eckleberg. As I studied them, I could have sworn they were smiling and sparkling mischievously as they watched us make our way.