It’s rush-hour and the cars are whipping through the thoroughfares like a Nascar on crack-- funneling into and out of the city

Love Park

It’s rush-hour and the cars are whipping through the thoroughfares like Nascar on crack-- funneling into and out of the city for jobs, to drop their kids off at daycare or their favorite shirt at the dry cleaners in a never-ending routine. Their faces show the wear and tear of their daily lives with smiles painted on by Macy’s and Tommy Hilfiger, never really being happy, but convincing the world that they are. Then there is the break in the monotonous roar of engines passing by. A place where everything seems to move at it’s own pace, like it has its own atmosphere and everything around it seems to move in slow motion—a park.

In the morning it’s filled with mothers pushing double wide strollers, runners drowning out the pounding of their footsteps with the tunes on their MP3 players, and children giggling as they make new friends on the playground. At noon, as the sun sits high to illuminate the brilliant greens of the surrounding trees, office types emerge from the plastic world they live to search for happiness. Whether it’s under an oak tree with a good book or on a bench devouring a tuna salad sandwich on whole wheat that they bought instead of made, they meet and interact with other people who are hurting inside just as much as they are. Who are just as lost and unhappy in the concrete jungle. They say that they will meet again, stay in touch, even exchange business cards, but know that they never will, bringing their disconnected lifestyles with them to this serene and sacred place. Occasionally, one enters the green space and instead of being a break from the norm, it’s just a break and their life changes almost entirely. This is their story.

*** Conversations in the Dark ***

The glow of Ali’s computer is the only thing that fills her room at midnight on a Sunday. She’s tired and feeling a bit empty inside but logs on anyway in hopes to fill some void. Low and behold a name pops up on the screen. A name from her past that she’d always hoped would be there again one day: TonyTigre. His real name was Tony Matisse and they met 4 years ago at the Pomegranate Festival where he was playing bass for a local garage band. By the end of that day, they had traded numbers and would occasionally talk over the internet. There was something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on that made her absolutely crazy with joy and fear at the same time, and she loved it.

“Hey! Long time no see,” she typed into the stillness of the white box. She became impatient as the cursor blinked.

“Hey you! Miss your smile! Just the girl I was hoping would be on,” he replied after what seemed like a decade passing, when really it was a matter of seconds. Ali’s heart began to race realizing that he did want to talk to her and that she wasn’t just another face in the crowd or another name on his list of girls.

“Haven’t seen you around for a while, but then again, you’ve been on the road and I moved halfway across the country.”

“It’s been rough. Every once in a while I look out and I think I see your shinning face, but then you don’t come say hi, so I know it wasn’t really you. How’s the job and new city treating you?”

She hesitated on what to say but then forced her fingers to the keyboard. “It’s been an adjustment. I don’t really like the city all that much but I love my job so I guess it balances out. And I don’t really know anyone here so I haven’t been going out much. There’s a park up the street though that I love to have lunch at. The people there are different than the people you meet elsewhere…” She stopped, noticing the bar at the bottom of the screen telling her that he was typing.

“That’s cool” Tony replied. She could hear his voice echoing in her head.

“I noticed on your MySpace page that you said you were in a relationship. Is it the same one?”

“It is.” He said shortly then they both waited. “She’s not that bad you know.” He finally initiated.

“I know… I just don’t think she’s the right one. And I don’t think you think she’s the right one. I heard somewhere that you and her were engaged?” Ali pushed back from the computer and extended her arms as if to give distance from the guy she tried to give her heart to but who wouldn’t return it.

“Well, we are, I guess. I’ve been with her now for about 8 years,” his answers showing his level of discomfort. “Um… what’s the weather like there? They kind of showed it on the news the other night.”

“I miss you.”

“Lots of rain?”

“You’re changing the subject,” she noted

“I can’t do this. Take care and I hope I see you soon, ‘kay?!”

He signed off leaving Ali a bit stunned and dejected. She stared at the screen, hoping that his name would show back up. Her eyes began to droop and she became weary, but she didn’t want to miss him. As the minutes turned to hours, she fell asleep with her forehead on the keyboard.

The sun ripped through the mini blinds in her apartment, Ali slowly opened her eyes. As she wiped the drool from her cheek she noticed the clock and panicked. It was 9:00 am and she was supposed to be at work. She jumped up from the chair and tripped over an overflowing laundry basket while frantically reaching for her cell phone. As she raced to the bathroom she dialed her boss to explain where she was and that she would be in soon.

“Majewski and Smallman Advertising, this is Colby.”

“Colby, it’s Ali. I had a small problem with my,” she paused as she looked into the bathroom mirror and noticed the imprint of the spacebar and keys transecting her forehead. “…Car. A flat tire. I’m on my way though. Can you cover for me for a bit longer?”

“No problem. Just get here when you can and I’ll tell Roland where you are when he gets in.”

“Awe, thanks Colby!”

“Just remember to walk the dog before you leave home,” he said, knowing fully that she had not had car trouble, but rather just woke up. The phone clicked as he hung up, leaving her with a goofy grin and completely speechless. Maybe today would be a good day.

Ali rummaged threw her closet to find an acceptable pair of pants and the least wrinkled dress shirt. Laundry must be done tonight she thought as she pulled on a pair of socks that she wasn’t quite sure if they were clean or dirty. She brushed her teeth and threw her hair up into a ponytail. Out the door she ran, realizing that she indeed did forget to let Simpson, her wonder-mut, out for his business.

Ali drove the 4 miles to the advertising agency that she works at. As she pulled her car into the underground garage, she looked up and saw cumulus clouds reflecting vividly off the dark glass of the skyscraper. BANG! Her head snapped quickly back and she tensed realizing what had just happened—she rolled into the car in front of her. Luckily her airbag didn’t deploy, but there was an imprint of her license plate in the bumper of the navy blue focus she hit. She dropped her head, squinted her eyes, and prayed it was all a bad dream. Then came a light tap on her side window.

Ali opened her left eye and turned her head slightly to see a man dressed in a gorgeous black suit. He was mouthing something, but she was to distracted by the electric blue tie that perfectly matched his eyes.

“Roll down the window” he yelled while making a turning motion with his right arm. Ali barely made out the muffled request and obliged. The man placed his left hand on her window frame, leaned in and asked “are you okay?”

Ali hesitated, still in shock from what had just happened, “yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well, there isn’t much damage to my car so I won’t go after anything, unless you want to. I’m also running a little late for work—I work on the 8^th floor. Here’s my card. If you decided to go to the insurances companies, give me a call.” He reached through the window and with his card. As Ali grabbed hold, he held on for a short second, “It’s one of those days, isn’t it?”

*** New Clients, Old Clients ***

Ali meandered into the office in a daze, passing by Colby at the front desk on her way to the break room. The cavernous white space smelled of apple scented soap and microwavable lasagna. As she opened the fridge she paused at the cool air pouring from within.

“You dropped this in the hall,” Colby said holding out the business card between his fingers. Ali turned, slightly startled, then leaned out and took the card.

“Thanks.”

Colby crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Who’s Marc McKinnison?”

“Who?”

“The guy on the card.”

Ali looked at the card then look back up at Colby. “No one. Don’t worry about it,” she said as she passed out the doorway. She headed towards her office and Colby followed close behind.

“That blank stare on your face doesn’t mean it’s no one,” he pushed.

“The blank stare is from the concussion when I rear-ended his car in the garage 10 minutes ago. Don’t you have a job to do?” She asked, as she fought to open a bottle of aspirin she pulled form her desk drawer.

“We’ll talk more about this later. Oh and you have a new client coming in at 10:15 am.”

“What time is it now?”

“10:10.”

Ali rested her head on her desk, before she knew it, there was a knocking on her door. Roland Majewski, the overly attentive owner of the advertising firm was there with the new clients.