"..." Jay Gatsby was momentarily dazed; it had been ages since he had heard the word "like." In todays urban society, who would still say "like"? Its either physical pleasure or deep spiritual love.
He felt as if a part of him was hit by those two words she uttered, becoming soft and fluffy, tingling all over. The elevator door dinged open, and neither of them spoke another word. They walked out of the elevator, back to their room to pack their luggage, and returned to Maycomb in the evening.
Upon returning home, Scout Finch received a call from Director He, mentioning that city officials would be visiting the funeral home for an inspection the next day. A group of students from the local universitys funeral service program were also scheduled to attend a practical course, and she was asked to prepare well. Additionally, she was instructed to select a few promising students from the group for potential employment.
"No, Director He, I dont have any experience lecturing to students. What should I say tomorrow? Cant you refuse such tasks?" Scout Finch was a bit troubled. If it were under normal circumstances, she could just talk casually, but with the officials visiting, would it be appropriate to be so casual?
"Oh, come on, Scout, please help out. Im planning to request some funds from the higher-ups to replace our old crematorium. You know how its been acting up lately, with flames spurting out of control..." Director He started to ramble on about the funeral home affairs.
"Alright, alright," Scout Finch quickly interrupted him, "But this is the last time."
"Great, its settled then. Prepare well tonight; there are just a dozen students," Director He said before hanging up.
Scout Finch hung up the phone and saw that Jay Gatsby was already busy in the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves, wearing a black apron, with prepared dried fish and crown daisy by his side, and he was pouring oil into the pan.
"Do you need help?" she asked softly.
"Do you eat garlic?" He didnt turn his head, heating the oil and then frying the fish pieces. "If you do, go peel a few cloves."
Scout Finch felt a bit speechless; this side of him reminded her of her father, Tom Robinson. Every time she asked if she could help in the kitchen, her father would have her peel garlic or wash scallions, always giving her light and easy tasks.
"Here you go," she handed him the peeled garlic, "Do you often cook?"
"You can wash your hands and sit out. Dinner will be ready soon," Jay Gatsby replied, skillfully cleaning the pot and spatula, and starting to stir-fry the vegetables.
Scout Finch took the braised fish from him and placed it on the dining table. Their actions were as coordinated as a long-married couple.
She looked back at the figure enveloped by the soft kitchen light and felt as if she had eaten a freshly baked chocolate cream cake, with sweetness spreading in her heart.
After dinner, they sat quietly on the sofa for a while. Scout Finch couldnt stop thinking about the fact that he hadnt responded to her confession yet. Staring at the screen, she was lost in thought.
"Another day, take me to your parents place for a meal," Jay Gatsby suddenly said softly.
"What?" Scout Finch was taken aback, not immediately grasping his meaning.
"It was inconsiderate of me before. My parents are no longer with us, but such a significant event as our marriage should still be communicated to the elders," he sat down beside her, pulling her into his arms.
Leaning against his chest, Scout Finch felt a bit troubled. It wasnt the right time for this conversation. She was planning to tell her parents that they were dating first and then, when they were more familiar with each other, reveal that they were already married.
If Tom Robinson and Nick Carraway knew that she had so hastily and absurdly married a man without telling them, they would definitely break her legs first and then his.
"Why do you know about my father? Have you investigated me?" Scout Finch was somewhat shocked, but then she thought about it, his clean getaway this time was likely due to his own innocence, but her father must have done a lot as well. It was natural for him to know about her background.
"As I thought," Jay Gatsby suddenly let go of her, no longer looking at her, got up, and walked into the study without looking back, closing the door behind him.
Scout Finch sat up, rubbing her wrists which were red from his grip, feeling a bit wronged by his sudden temper. They had just started to get along well, and now it was back to this, with him being cold and distant again.
She quickly washed up and went to her room without much thought for dinner. The next morning, Jay Gatsby had already left for work. She looked at the empty room, feeling a bit frustrated. The warmth from before felt like a dream; waking up, he was once again the indifferent husband from a whirlwind marriage.
She couldnt quite understand what he was angry about. If he really cared about not having a background or status, would she have sneaked out the household registration book to marry him in the first place?
He seemed like such a smart and wise man; why was he being so stubborn?
Without the mood for breakfast, Scout Finch washed her face and hurried to the funeral home. The group of students Director He mentioned yesterday were already waiting outside the morgue, twelve of them standing in clusters around Director He, asking questions.
Scout Finch greeted them with a smile, led them into the morgue, helped them change into work clothes and gloves, and then spoke seriously, "Next, I will demonstrate in front of you how to embalm a body that died of natural causes. I expect you to maintain silence and raise your hand if you have any questions."
Seeing them nod, Scout Finch took out her tools and lifted the white cloth covering the body.
She explained softly in front, and the students listened attentively behind her, the only sound in the morgue being her gentle and steady voice.
Suddenly, she felt nauseous and lightheaded. Her hand holding the makeup brush began to tremble.
"Indeed, we often offer practical courses for free to students from the C University Funeral Service program," Director Hes somewhat ingratiating voice came, and Scout Finch remembered him mentioning the visit from the higher-ups yesterday.
Her hypoglycemia symptoms were quite severe; she wanted to sit down and rest but heard that they had already been led over. Gritting her teeth, she continued with her task.
After Director Hes voice disappeared, Scout Finch found herself feeling increasingly faint. She could no longer hold the brush and palette in her hand, and her whole body was trembling. A boy closest to her noticed her condition and asked, "Teacher, are you okay? Ah, be careful—"
She was really unstable on her feet and leaned to one side. The boy quickly put his arm around her waist, steadying her body.
"Are you alright, teacher?" The young mans voice was filled with concern, his hands providing a steady support as Scout Finch swayed.
She attempted to respond but felt the blood rushing from her face, and her vision began to blur. The students nearby noticed her distress and quickly moved to assist her.
"Please, could someone inform Director He?" Jay Gatsbys voice cut through the small commotion, his presence commanding attention. He had entered the room unnoticed, his expression a mask of calm concern.
The students scattered to do his bidding, and he approached Scout Finch, his eyes never leaving her face. "Scout, lets get you seated." He guided her to a chair, his touch gentle yet firm.
As she sat, the world around her began to spin, and she was grateful for the support. Jay Gatsby crouched beside her, his voice low and reassuring. "Breathe slowly. Someone has gone for sugar water; it will help with the dizziness."
She nodded, focusing on his words as she tried to steady her breathing. The room fell silent except for the sound of her breaths and the distant footsteps of someone running.
In what felt like both an eternity and the blink of an eye, a student returned with a small cup of sugar water. Jay Gatsby helped her drink it, his fingers brushing against hers in a gesture that was both intimate and professional.
The sugar water began to take effect, and her vision cleared. She looked around to see the students staring at her with a mix of concern and curiosity. Director He arrived, his face flushed from rushing.
"Scout Finch, are you alright?" He asked, his voice filled with worry.
"Yes, Director He. I apologize for the disruption," she replied, her voice still shaky.
"Nonsense, health comes first. You should take the day off to recover," Director He insisted.
Jay Gatsby helped her to her feet, his hand lingering on her lower back, providing无言的 support. "Ill take her home," he said to Director He, who nodded in agreement.
As they left the room, Scout Finch couldnt help but notice the glances from the students. She had always been the one in control, the teacher, but today, she had shown a vulnerability that she had never intended to reveal.
Once outside, the fresh air helped clear the remaining fog in her mind. Jay Gatsby walked her to his car, and they drove in silence to their home.
Upon arriving, he helped her inside and settled her on the couch. "Rest here. Ill make you some tea," he said, his voice gentle.
As he moved about the kitchen, Scout Finch couldnt help but feel a warmth spreading through her. It was in these small moments of care that she found herself drawn to him more and more.
He returned with a cup of tea, placing it on the table beside her. "Drink it slowly," he advised.
She wrapped her hands around the warm cup, letting the heat seep into her palms. "Thank you," she said, her eyes meeting his.
"You dont need to thank me, Scout," he replied, his gaze never leaving hers. "Were in this together."
And in that moment, despite the earlier embarrassment and the vulnerability she had shown, she felt a strange sense of peace. It was as if, with Jay Gatsby by her side, she could face anything.
As the day turned to evening, Jay Gatsby stayed by her side, ensuring she was comfortable and had everything she needed. They spoke of trivial things, their laughter filling the room, and for Scout Finch, the world felt just a little bit brighter.