Alison Park

A dolphin swam along side the Arcturus. He peeked his left eye up at Sara, winked, and then flipped away into the brine. 

“Did you see that, Ollie?” Sara said. 

Oliver stood erect with his hands behind his back. The bow of the Arcturus was three feet wide. Oliver stood in the bow, feet shoulder width apart, and stared at Waiheke Island in the distance. 

“Ollie, did you see the dolphin?” Sara said.

“Yes. They are quite magnificent,” Oliver said over the crashing water. His voice cut through the surf, salt, and sea. 

The sides of Oliver’s 1818 Brooks Brothers suit jacket flapped in the wind. No matter the occasion, Oliver always wore a three-piece suit. He always wore a tie in a Balthus knot, a big-ass double Windsor. He always had a pair of Beats headphones around his neck, too. Dressed like that, you’d think Oliver probably had Beethoven cranked between his ears. But really, and much to Sara’s chagrin, Oliver only listened to Primus. 

“Waiheke is over there,” Oliver said, pointing straight ahead to the horizon. 

In the sharp sunlight of a summer day at sea, Sara could see Oliver’s head scar. However he earned that scar, it couldn’t have felt too good. It ran from just behind his left ear lobe, across the back of his shaved head, and disappeared somewhere near the top of his right ear. 

Sara grabbed the side of the boat. “Do you think you’ll get sea sick, Ollie?”

“No,” he said, standing impossibly calm as the boat bobbed up and down.

As the touring yacht arrived at the dock, Sara unclenched her hands from the side of the boat. 

Oliver stepped from the bow, jumped down to the deck, and kissed Sara on the nose. 

“We arrived in one piece, Love,” Oliver said. 

Sara accompanied Oliver, her boyfriend of six months, on this trip to New Zealand to see Auckland, the city where Oliver grew up. This day trip to Waiheke Island seemed like a fun idea, if for no other reason than it was December and therefore summer in the land down under. Back home, in the US, it was cold. 

“Two bikes, please,” Oliver said to the bike rental clerk. 

Sara and Oliver rode bicycles to Alison Park, just a mile or so from the dock. Sara worked up a sweat on the ride while Oliver seemed to never sweat. Upon arrival, Sara and Oliver parked their bikes and embarked on a hike. 

“Here are the sculptures I mentioned,” Oliver said. Giant sculptures lined the Alison Park path. The first was a red, metal creation that resembled a “V,” but had its own thing to it. “Here, let’s take a seat,” he said. 

Sara reached for Oliver’s hand. She took it and it was clammy. Oliver never sweated, so she turned and looked at him. “Ollie, what’s wrong?” she asked. 

“My parents. They left me here, in this park, when I was five years old,” Oliver said. 

“Your parents?”

“I need to forgive them,” he said. 

“What?”

“Atonement, I guess.”

Sara held his hand. He was trembling now. 

“They took me here because I wanted to see the sculptures. I got carried away and ran to see all of them. I lost track of where my parents were and then it was dark.”

“Did they look for you?”

“They said they did, but it’s not like this park is terribly big.”

Oliver began hyperventilating. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a paper bag, and breathed into it.

“They left me, Sara.”

“Sorry, Ollie. What can I do?”

Ollie blushed, betraying his composure. “Tell me. Tell me you won’t leave me.”

“Ollie . . . “ Sara put her arm around him. “I’m not going to leave you here. And even if I did, you know the way back better than I do.”

“That’s not what I meant, Sara.”

“We’ve only known each other for six months, Ollie. Let’s take this slow. Christ, after you see where I grew up, you may regret ever meeting me.”

Ollie laughed. “It’s so raw, you know, being here again. The sculptures are exactly the same.”

“But do you see them the same?”

“Yes, well, maybe not. I don’t know.” Oliver wiped down his forehead with a handkerchief and motioned for Sara to stand. “Let’s walk.”

Sara and Oliver walked the entire trail. Sara’s shorts and Carolina sweatshirt clashed terribly with Oliver’s three-piece suit, but they held hands nevertheless. When they approached a blue post modern sculpture, Sara asked, “What is this one?”

“I don’t know, some kind of contemporary thing.”

“What do you see?”

“Looks like someone is lunging with her arms outstretched,” he said.

“I see two people dancing,” she said.

“I’m sorry I got emotional back there.” 

“It’s OK, Ollie. The future is impossible to predict. I mean, if we see different things in this sculpture, we’d probably interpret the future differently, too, if it could even be known.” 

Oliver snorted.

“If anything, Ollie, I like you more now that I’ve seen you vulnerable and anxious. I was beginning to think you didn’t ever sweat.”

“Only in Alison Park,” he said.

”Do you ever dress down a little?”

“I could, but we always project a style, whether through clothes or manner or kindness. I choose this.” Oliver straightened his Balthus knot.

Oliver and Sara paused after walking a bit more. They kissed each other on the mouth and then continued walking.

When they arrived at their bicycles, the rode them back to the rental desk and waited for the yacht to embark back to Auckland. 

“Would you like to stand in the bow on the trip back to the main land?” Oliver asked.

“Fuck no,” Sara said.

“I believe the correct response is ‘Fuck no, you fuck knuckle,’” Oliver said. 

Sara smiled. As the boat pushed off, she grabbed the side for dear life.

“What are we doing tomorrow, Ollie?”

“We shall watch Rugby and eat scallops,” Oliver said. “I would also very much like to buy you flowers.”