7. Oskar
CHAPTER SEVEN
OSKAR
After we finish our meal and dispose of the empty containers, neither of us can sit still.
“Should we go for a walk?” I ask. “You promised to show me around.”
Kai tilts his head. “And here I thought you liked looking at me.”
“Can I not do both?” I flick his arm with a fingernail. “I can watch you with other things in the background. You will only make them look better.”
He scrunches his eyebrows together and frowns.
Helvete. Why would he react that way?
I risk brushing his hand with mine. “Do not let me scare you, Kai. I meant it as a compliment.”
His eyes get shiny, and after a moment, he clears his throat. “Sorry. I just…”
I can’t tell whether he is struggling to say something or fighting not to, so I wait.
“I’m not used to guys telling me things like that,” he finally says. “Usually, all we do is fuck and say goodbye.”
“I surprised you, then. If I may ask…” He nods, so I go on. “Did you like what I said?”
It takes him a moment to answer. “More than I want to admit. I feel better around you.”
I rest my hand on top of his. “You do not have to be nervous with me.”
He sighs. “That should scare me more than it does.” He looks like he has surrendered a state secret. “Ready for that walk now?” he asks.
We get up, and he leads us down a walkway, deeper into the park.
“What do you think of New York?” he asks.
I bump my arm against his. “I like it. There are too many people and buildings, but the city is very interesting.”
“There are too many people and buildings, but the city is very interesting?” His eyes are full of mischief. “You need a refresher course.”
“Excuse me, tutor. There’re way too many people, but it’s as interesting as a fuck.” I grin, absurdly pleased with myself. “Was that better?”
“Well…” He rubs a hand over his mouth. “Sort of. Fucks can be described as interesting, I guess, but I think the expression you meant to use was ‘it’s interesting as fuck.’ Not ‘a fuck’”
My cheeks get hot, but I laugh along with him. After a passing couple gives us a wide berth, Kai looks at me. “That definitely sounded more like my friends, though.”
“I take that as a compliment,” I say. “Assuming they are nice.”
“They’re awesome. My best buddies.”
His expression softens, and I want to know the people who make him look so happy.
Before long, we come to a crossroads. Kai points to the left, and after we turn, he gently elbows my arm. “Keep working on your English. You’re already getting better.”
The path widens ahead, where rows of tall elm trees are lined up on either side. Their branches meet overhead, creating a high green ceiling that filters the sunlight.
“This is beautiful,” I say, looking upward. “The trees remind me of Sweden.”
“My mom and I went to Norway last year,” he says. “I’d like to see Sweden too.”
“You should. It is much nicer than Norway.”
He looks over. “Says the man from Sweden.”
“Go to Sweden. When you come back, you will tell me I’m right.”
“Oh, check this out.” He brings us to a stop next to a statue of Shakespeare. “This is called Literary Walk. Lots of writers and poets.”
“Ah,” I say. “Smart people like me.”
He snorts, then nods at the bard. “This is Shakespeare. He wrote poems and plays.”
“I know who he is. We studied him in school.”
“Really?” He raises his eyebrows. “Prove it.”
I make a show of thinking hard. “All right. ‘This above all: to thine own self be true.’ From Hamlet.”
“You—” A patch of pink colors his cheeks. “That was so beautiful in your accent.”
“Hmm. You like the way I talk?”
His eyes drop to my mouth. “Very much so.”
This is worth remembering.
A moment passes, then he says, “Come on.”
Our arms touch now and then as we walk, but we don’t say much. I can’t help wondering what is going on in his head. I know he liked the sex we had, but I am trying to figure out how much he likes me. Or at least, how he likes me. Is it romantic interest, or am I in the friends category?
It isn’t long until the path opens into a brick terrace split into two levels, connected by large staircases. At the bottom is a huge fountain topped by a bronze angel, and beyond that, a lake dotted with rowboats.
“Fan,” I say, looking around.
Kai turns toward me. “Is that good or bad?”
“Very good,” I say. “Fan means damn.”
He nods. “This is Bethesda Terrace.”
“It is beautiful.”
He glances at the fountain, then back at me. I have the impression he is more interested in my reaction than in seeing it himself. That thought makes this even better.
I spend a moment taking it all in before saying, “This is worth the walk all by itself. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“It’s a good spot,” he says, looking into my eyes.
All at once, something shifts. He talks about the history of the plaza and starts tapping his leg with one hand. The other gestures in the air, apparently trying to match the rhythm of the one hitting his leg. His jaw is tight, barely moving as words tumble out of him.
Between the echoing voices and splashing water, there is a lot of noise. The volume of the crowd is pressing on me, so he must feel it too. He shoots me a frantic look, like a skater carrying too much speed into a turn with no way to slow down.
I move closer to him, touching his shoulder with mine, making myself a boundary against the chaos. I have seen the terrace now, I want to say. We can leave and find someplace quiet.
But his eyes are gleaming, so I let him run out of breath.
“Du passar s? bra i solen,” I say.
The tapping on his thigh slows, then stops. His cheeks turn a beautiful shade of crimson, and his distressed expression fades into a small smile. “Keep that up and you’re going to start something.”
Yes. I must speak Swedish if we sleep together again.
“Maybe that is the idea,” I say. “In Swedish, I said how well the sun suits you. It brings your eyes to life.”
He looks uncertain, then nods. “Thank you. The sun makes you look good too.”
I want to kiss him, but I do not. He is already nervous. Americans are more open in public than Swedes are, but I do not want to risk embarrassing him.
“Is it okay if we sit for a minute?” I gesture toward an empty spot on the steps. “The sun is getting to me.”
“Sure. I’d like that too.”
I let him take the place next to the balustrade and keep myself between him and all the people. At first, I try not to crowd him, but he scoots toward me until our legs are touching. Either the noise level drops, or sitting off to the side makes it seem quieter.
Thankfully, Kai is still. The tapping does not return, and his breathing is back to normal.
He glances over. “There’s one more thing I want to show you. Ready?”
This time, we take a different path. It curves around the water, leading us to a wide lawn bordered by dense trees. Tall buildings are in the background, towering over everything.
“This is Strawberry Fields,” he says, continuing onto a walkway across the grass.
“Seriously?” I ask. “They grow berries here?”
“No, at least I don’t think so. It’s named after that Beatles song, ‘Strawberry Fields Forever.’ Follow me. There’s something you need to see.”
We stop beside a round black-and-white mosaic set into the pavement, with the word IMAGINE spread across the center.
A few people stand nearby in a quiet circle, and a man farther back is playing a guitar.
Even with tourists moving along the paths and traffic sounds close by, the spot is very peaceful.
I understand what it is at once—a memorial. Not only to a famous man, but to someone who left an unforgettable mark on the world through his music.
Imagine. The lyrics and bittersweet melody come to life in my mind.
Gunnar and I went through a major Beatles period when we were about twelve, and this was one of our favorite songs.
We must have listened to it a million times.
Even now, I hear his off-key voice singing along in my head.
Back then, we thought everything was possible.
We made grand plans for the day we would both play professional hockey in America or Canada.
When we made it into a hockey high school, we became even more determined to make it. Every day, as soon as we got home, Gunnar would say, “That’s one day closer to the HFNA.”
“We’ll be rich and famous,” I would answer. “All the sex we want.”
Gunnar always pumped a hand in the air. “We will have so much fun doing this together.”
My chest empties into the hollow ache that has lived there for two years. Our dream has come true, but only for one of us.
I remember the hospital. Eerie lights and beeping machines. Gunnar lying too still, as pale as his bedsheets, telling me not to let our dream die. I stared at his plastic hospital bracelet so he would not see my tears. When I raised my eyes, he was gone.
I do not understand how a person who was so alive can simply cease to exist.
“Oskar?” Kai rests his hand against my back. “Are you okay?”
It is only then that I notice my cheeks are wet. I swipe the tears away, but too late. He has seen them.
“I was thinking of someone I used to know,” I tell him. “My best friend.”
Questions cross his face, but he says nothing.
“His name is… was Gunnar,” I say. “He died two years ago.”
Kai moves his hand in slow circles on my back. “I’m sorry. Do you want to sit down?”
His voice is warm, and his touch grounds me in a way I did not expect. Perhaps he is not the only one who could use someone who cares.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Want to go on?”
He lets a moment pass before guiding me to another path. The city sounds drift back little by little. I am embarrassed about crying, but not as much as I could be, because it happened with Kai.
He leads us to an exit, and we step out onto a wide avenue. A large stone building with steep gables and beautiful carved windows is across the street.
“That is amazing,” I say, pointing at it. “Very European. I should like to live in such a place one day.”
“Wouldn’t we all? It’s called The Dakota, and a lot of celebrities live there. John Lennon lived there too.”
“He had excellent taste in homes as well as music. Perhaps one day when you live there, you will invite me to visit.”
His eyes brighten. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I promise if that day ever comes, you’ll be the first to know.”