The Summer Days Chronicles (boyxboy)
-4-
AJ McAllister
Oklahoma City
Day 7
We were going past the Panhandle region of Oklahoma, once again, in scorching sun and dry winds on our face.
In the Tornado Alley region, June is a risky month to travel here, since it is the peak of the tornado season, and our family have full awareness about that fact.
That's why we choose to stay in a cottage, with a tornado shelter in case we needed it.
But it doesn't mean we would need to sacrifice having fun in this emerging city, when the alarm aren't sounded around the city, nor the clock doesn't say noon on Saturday.
One thing that many of us were always asking all of our lives is where did the parking meter was first born. And in our trip to Oklahoma City, our question finally has the answer that is was long awaited for, when we took a small visit to the Oklahoma Historical Society.
The trip to Oklahoma Historical Society wasnʻt really my idea- I decided to let Johann take the lead today, simply out of amusement for what this overly romantic guy could do. I mean, donʻt get me wrong, but how can you not identify yourself as "overly romantic" when you wept when watching Letters To Juliet?
"Well, I'm sorry for being such an emotional person when it's perfectly fine to do so!" was always his response, so I decided to drop it off the table after the fifteenth shot.
We walked downtown of Oklahoma City, Johann leading me with his child-like joyful self and will not stop admiring what they have in the Big Friendly.
Once again, I found myself staring dumbfounded at him, when the sun tried to play his tricks on my heart and partially lit up Johnny's eyes and half of his face under the fedora.
His smile shines with the sun, and my heart will not stop raising up its beat. And he is still looking at everything like he is in Wonderland. But I must admit for myself, that being Californians by born, Oklahoma with us is something so...exotic.
The city itself was like a mix of Wild West movies and the innovative moments of the twenty-first century, along with some sense of slight fear from April 19th, 1995.
And speaking about what happened in nineteen ninety-five, I see John, stood quietly in front of a large bronze gate, with the numbers "9:01" emblemed on the top.
"We're here." Said Jonathan, and I entered with him, with utter curiosity and confusion clouding my mind.
It's not because I don't know about what had happened here twenty-one years ago (Oklahoma City bombing attack victims, may you rest in peace.), but I am curious because of John's voice once we got here.
It was shaking. Violently. Like something in here had really impacted his life.
"What's the matter?" was the question that keep lingering in my mind, when we walked inside the memorial site...
Jonathan Parker
Day 5, Oklahoma City, State of Oklahoma
I silently walked inside the Oklahoma City National Memorial.
The summer sun was still shining all around me, but my mind was filled with dark clouds.
The biggest secret that I never dared to talk to AJ, is my failed suicide attempt last year. I didnʻt want him to know that I was hospitalized while he was heading towards his soccer championship game in San Diego.
I was so hopeless during those days, that I don't have enough driving force to get myself out of bed for three mornings in a row.
The problem escalated so quickly, that I have to be admit into psychological evaluation the following week.
Definitely, AJ would not ever know this, since my parents is wise enough to hide this horrendous matter away from his knowledge,but that is not the part that I wanted to talk about.
In the Oklahoma City National Monument, there are one hundred and sixty-eight tall bronze glass dinner chairs. Each of them represented someone who died on April seventeenth, nineteen ninety-five.
I had the chance to be here last year, and I still remembered what had gone through my mind at the time that I spent.
The people whose name was bore on these chairs, were all innocent. I bet that they all had a lot people who loved them dearly, and still missed each and everyone of them every single day for the rest of their lives.
I still remembered myself walking through the Reflection Pool at the center of the monument, calling myself "an unworthy, dumb and ugly person" for a long period of time.
I still can recall those thoughts of me imagining my own demise.
How should my life end? A slit through my wrist, a cut through my neck, a rope that blocks my probability of breathing, a bullet through my head, or a jump through the balcony?
A good number of methods were running around through my head, but I choose to go with the first one.
As a pool of scarlet blood was forming under my body's laying position, I shed a tear thinking about the reaction of my family and AJ, once the sun has rise and they found my lifeless body on the floor.
I could hear my mom's shrug and my dad's cold voice to carry my body to the graveyard.
I could sense AJ getting on his way to become a successful football player, without me as his burden. Heck, he probably wouldn't even recognize that I'm gone forever.
I could felt the first snowflakes of winter gracefully land on my grave, left abandoned. I love to play outside during the first day of snowfall; have done it as long as I could remember, and still do now.
I could see Wendy- my older sister, living in New York City, having a great partner who loves her and cherish her and people who would be better than her, without me as the "impaired version" of her.
But most of all, I could see that I would definitely not be missed.
I looked down to the pool. They said that each person reflected on the poolʻs surface symbolized someone who "had changed forever since that day".
And every single time that I would visit here, I will look at the American elm tree that still stood tall on its original position.
"Hey, is something wrong?" AJ patted his hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it away and said to him:
"No, everything is fine."
"Really? Then why are you crying?" AJ said, and I silently placed my hand on my face.
It brushes gently against my face, and I internally wished that his could go on forever.
"Oh...okay. I actually don't know what happened to me. Seriously." I stumbled upon my words, before I felt a strong pair of arms wrapped around me, and AJ pulling me close to him.
Now I understood Jay Gatsby's feeling every time he look at that mystic green light on his docks. That feeling when you know your dream is so near, yet so far is torturing, like this moment itself: he was holding me close, but it's only just because I am his best friend, and that is what best friends usually do to each other.
But I wanted more: I thirsted for his lips on mine. I silently begged those three beautiful words would come out of his mouth.
I love you.
Does it have to be that hard just to say it? Yes, definitely, especially if you donʻt want to lose your biggest supporter along with the action of saying those words.
I donʻt know... What should I do?...
AJ McAllister
Oklahoma City
Day 6
I stayed up late last night, two days after what happened at the Murrah building memorial.
Why? Honestly, I donʻt really have the answer for that. Maybe itʻs because of Johnnyʻs strange attitude today. No, not just today, for the entire trip.
Sometimes, I just can't even wrap my head around his mind... Itʻs like he has a translucent glass cage surrounding his thought bubble, preventing anyone from fully understanding him.
Maybe, just maybe, that is the reason why he always tried to push me away from him and keep the distance from me.
But I know that he is trying to make people think that he's fine; and apparently, he is not. If he is actually fine, then why would he need to hide his secrets away from everyone?
I tried to give myself an answer to that question, when we were walking inside the American Indian Cultural Center.
As a California native, it doesnʻt really surprise me on what our ancestors had done that results in the horrendous massacre and forced relocation of Native Americans to the Great Plains and Northern states, The part that surprised me the most, was what did our culture had tried to kill culturally.
Native Americans were persecuted, just because they believe in different things than what we believe in.
When I was out in the outdoor exhibitions, I did give myself a rhetorical question: Wow, can you imagine what used to happen here back when the Natives are still owning this land?
Funny enough, I could see that Johnny is as equally as fascinated as I do, judging by his eyes when we were going through the exhibitions in the facility.
But the thing that made me actually concerned is what Johnny do during our trip inside the building: he seems to ignore me altogether, once again left me sitting and pondering to myself what could go wrong with him.
Normally, I could just confront him, and talk to him. But now, what could I possibly do, when everything he do is to avoid me all of a sudden and acting that I never did exist in his life?
I know that I need to clear up the air with him.
The only question now is how could I do that.
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