If it works out, we call it love; if it doesn’t,
we say it was infatuation. It’s a hindsight word.
― Deborah Meyler
Choices
I feel frozen, not by fear a sniper tried to kill me, but because of indecision.
I'm unsure of my feelings and terrified of making a mistake choosing between Anna and Carly. I've known Anna ever since university and that's a relationship I don't want to jeopardize.
On the other hand, Carly makes me feel alive.
Anna's career and traveling has resulted in our drifting apart. And much as I value that feeling of permanence and stability, I'm excited every time Carly is near.
Anna has been the power that's sustained me through the years, but Carly is the rocket fuel that ignites my passion.
It's making me crazy though. Instead of planning ways I can avoid being shot, I'm sitting at my desk trying to divide a sheet into two columns, adding up the pluses and minuses of both women.
What the hell am I doing―not just at the present, but with the rest of my life?
In the midst of a life-threatening danger, I'm also going through an identity crisis. If I give into my fears and abandon broadcasting I'll have to redefine who I am.
But who am I really? That was Hamlet's question and like him, I'm a man who scarcely knows himself.
In the midst of all this angst I need to do something. Normally I'd get out and jog but seeing as I was the victim of a sniper attack, I'd say that's off the menu for the present.
I open up my laptop to The Weather Network to see what I'm missing. Yes, I know that's sick, but these things I do.
Great―just great! More bad news.
The forecast reads: Wildfires in Quebec have made Toronto's air quality the worst in the world right now. It's recommending to stay indoors.
I feel like I'm cocooned again as I was during The Pandemic.
I must be like a Shakespearean anti-hero because my flesh rebels. Hell, it's sunny with a cool wind out there and the sky is blue.
I'm not really under the Toronto forecast since I live on the outskirts, perched on part of the Niagara Escarpment. Besides, I can still get out and get in some walking if I drive to a mall.
They actually recommend going to an indoor, air-conditioned mall if you need to shop.
Well, I do. I need to get out. And if the cops outside try to stop me, there'll be hell to pay for it. I'm loaded for bear.
I exit the house, making sure to arm the security system and head out to Limeridge Mall―that's about a 30 minute drive west up the Mountain and the air quality should be fine there as I think it is here.
The police don't stop me―they don't even tail me. Yeah, so much for a protective detail.
I feel a sense of freedom and a spark of joy. I guess that's what happiness means to me―a sunny day and somewhere to go.
Simple and free―that's me, I smile to myself.
Out on the road, my mind is free to drift as ghostly images of Anna and Carly are superimposed on the road before me―thankfully, transparent, although they are distracting.
Why am I not surprised?
I pull into the mall parking lot and as I get out, check the sky. The sun's not orange, there's no haze in the air, no smell of campfires and no chemical scent. I could probably jog...Uh NO!
As Prighozin, the exiled leader of Wagner discovered, you can only push a rebellion so far. I elect to walk inside the mall.
When I get into the cool interior I discover I'm incredibly hungry and realize I haven't eaten for several hours.
I find the food court and order an Arby's roast beef and cheese melt sandwich and match that with a side of New York Fries. I order a diet Pepsi though to be reasonable, but I'll probably eat dessert.
When I finish my late lunch, the aroma of Tim Hortons coffee is calling me and visions of donuts swim through my brain―but I sternly refuse. But I'll probably stop by the restaurant on the way home.
The visions of donuts are soon replaced by images of Carly and Anna and I find myself inside a jewellery store looking at rings.
Don't ask me why―I don't know myself.
The line from a vintage bubble gum tune runs through my head:
If you've got someone whose love is true
Then this diamond ring can shine for you.
"Are you looking for a ring for someone special?" the attractive sales clerk asks.
She has long dark hair and huge eyes and looks Spanish but her nameplate says Nalla, an Arabic name.
"Actually, I'm just looking," I smile, and then realize how awkward that sounds.
"You're welcome to look." she smiles.
Yeah, I don't need this right now but instead of moving on, I stop to ask about her name.
"Your name's Arabic―it means successful, doesn't it?"
Again, a bright smile. "I'm impressed. How do you know Arabic?"
I color, "I spent three years fighting in Afghanistan"
She nods. "I spent too long in Iraq―all I remember are the bombs."
We spend the next ten minutes talking about culture wars―real ones, both the deadly conflicts in the middle east and the clash of harsh opinions at home.
Nothing is resolved―it never is and I don't buy a ring, because I don't know who I am.
On the way out of the store she calls me back. "My name has another meaning besides successful―it also means, brilliant eyes. Sometimes I think I've seen too much."
I nod, because I know that feeling all too well.
On the way home, a third face haunts me―this one with brilliant eyes that won't let me run away from a conflict.