Anthony & Erin

Anthony was a very close school friend. Along with Mark, the three of us were almost inseparable.
He was one of the fencing crew members.

He and I experimented together when I was living near the apple orchard—so, 13 or 14?
He would follow me home on the bus, and we’d sneak off somewhere quiet.

I always went to his birthday parties, even after I’d left high school and was attending college.
That kid was super into wrestling.

I once let him put me in a sleeper hold—because he asked nicely.
I described what passing out felt like to him.
I told him it was like when your hand falls asleep—pins and needles—but in your head.

Sometime shortly after he graduated high school, he got married to Erin.
She was another kid we hung out with.
She lived in the trailer park near Anthony’s mom’s house.

I think he got her pregnant.
That’s why they got married.
That’s how most people in that area ended up married.

I remember I was sitting in my apartment playing guitar one night when Mark called.

“Anthony’s dead.”

I could hear him holding back the tears. The pain.

Mark, Anthony, and I were all close.
An inseparable trio of troublemakers, we had once been called.

As close as we all were, Mark and Anthony were even closer. Beyond best friends.
Given more time, I think they would’ve realized they were probably in love with each other.

Then again, I think everyone is gay.

Erin was driving.
It was a rainy night.
They had their newborn in the little beater car.

I don’t think any of us will ever truly know what happened.

Erin had always been a good driver, as far as I knew.

The police said it looked like someone sideswiped them, and they went off the road into a ravine.

There were no survivors.

The funeral service was nice.
They were all buried together at the church Erin’s mom went to.

Anthony is still missed.