Warrior

Chapter 8: Anthony

Why is life so hard?

How did it get here?

I guess that's what happens when life flies by without you.

Nothing makes sense anymore. Guinevere is gone. Carter is gone. I can't help but feel sorry for Erica. She lost her husband. I know she is right. I don't know what it's like to lose a significant other. But I do know what it is like to lose Guinevere. She was my light. She would guide me through darkness and towards goodness. Whenever I lost my way, she was there to guide me, every step of the way. But now that light is gone. Now that life is gone. So like I said, I may not know what it's like to lose a significant other like Erica's case, but I do know what it's like to lose Guinevere - and that's significant enough for me.

"Erica?" I ask her, pulling her head up a little from my left shoulder, only to look at those dark brown watery eyes that sat 5 inches below mine. "Yes Anthony?" She asked, her voice slowly quavering. She finally brought her head up from my shoulder, and tucked her dark brown hair behind her right ear, showing a silver stud earring that she had in. "I'm really sorry about Carter," I had started. However, I didn't know how to finish my sentence. I didn't know what to say after that. "But I just want you to know that you're not alone," I was able to come up with. Surprisingly, that worked. She turned her head a little towards me, and let out in a quiet whisper, "thank you". Without saying anything, I stood up from the dark brown piano bench that Carter used to sit at without screeching, and I lowered my left hand to Erica. However, she seems like she just wants to be one with the piano - left alone and never talk to anyone again. "Erica, let me give you my number," I tell her, suggesting it as it can be a way for us to be there for each other. "Sure," she tells me before handing me her phone and I give her my number, handing her phone back. "Let's get out of here," I suggested to her, eyeing the door that led out of the emotionally-filled room. I honestly couldn't handle any more emotions. The weekend was horrible.

I never really thought I would lose Guinevere for good.

I always thought she would come back to me.

I imagined what our future would be like.

After university, we would hopefully still be dating. At that point, we'd probably move to the US and settle down in our favourite state - California. We always used to talk about moving there, especially since I was born there. I would introduce her to the rest of my family there, and eventually after finding a job for each one of us, I would propose. It'd be a small wedding - on the beach at sunset with close friends and family. There are some days where I can still see the sand crumbling under our bare feet as I waited for her at the end of the aisle, watching that mermaid lace dress flow down her magnificent body, veil tied in her aquamarine head and holding pink peonies in hand. Soon after we would maybe have kids - two daughters, who we would each name Gwendolyn (Guinevere's favourite name) and Isabella (my favourite name). Davina and Marshall would be grandparents, and of course, they would come and visit all the time - along with Charlotte, Daniel, and Uncle Levi and Aunt Eliana.

But even as I hold onto the awaited future, Guinevere still dies and I lose her.

I don't want to say that all hope is gone, but it for sure feels like it. So maybe that's why I want to get out of the emotionally-filled music room. There's only so much crying, laughter, and tears that a person can take - and I've reached my limit. I'm surprised that Erica can keep on going. However, even as I look back and forth between the grieving Erica at the piano and the door that leads out of here, I can't help but want to think back to a better time - when Guinevere was alive and I could be there for her.

In fact, there was one day.

It was 5 months ago, and Maverick, Logan and I had a social test we barely studied for. It was an early Monday morning (around 6 am), and I knew I needed to study. The weekend before was not the best. I ran into Guinevere on Saturday at Dickinson's Coffeehouse, where I saw her and Carter having dinner together. Seeing the two of them together had put some unpleasant emotions in my head that I wanted out, so I ran out of the building as fast as I could. On Monday morning, I tried not to think about Guinevere, but damn, it was hard. As I snuck very quietly towards the dark foyer of the house, I tried thumbing through the dark brown closet, looking for my black coat. As I had finally grabbed the coat and had put it on - even if it was inside out - the light switch above me turned on right away, causing me to look away and close my eyes from the brightness bursting onto my eyes.