Lions, Tigers and Bears Part 3 ...Taking a Chance

Why am I stuck between two women who are polar opposites?

Grier is from my social circle and would certainly help advance my career, whereas Frizzy....yeah, the jury's out on that one.

She's a retro type—a Sixties throwback—a love child.

I could see her dancing with complete abandon at Woodstock—imagine her as the consummate, wild, anarchist hippie free girl.

Besides her hair is frizzy and the dishevelled look doesn't work on Wall Street where Grier's daddy presides.

But did I say she was adorable and drives me mad?

I've played far too many tennis matches with Grier—skied Mount Tremblant and cruised to Alaska—decorously, with her family, of course.

Frizzy and I simply played games. She's my work bud and we’d drink in all those awful bars Grier never imagined and would certainly never have visited.

But Frizzy sees me as her pirate—a swashbuckling Jack Sparrow at heart who's not afraid of lions, tigers and bears but who's deathly afraid of romance

Arr, Arr, I text back, and then add, sweet dreams.

It’s a term of endearment that stops short of the X’s and O’s of love.

A minute later the cell chimes. Sweet dreams too, Cal.

My arms seem suddenly empty and my throat goes dry. I want what I can’t have—or maybe, I don’t know what I want.

But each night before I go to sleep, hers is the last face I see.

I push her away, but not like Grier. Grier I hold at arms length, afraid to let her near.

Frizzy gets behind my lines, and on friendly territory there are no defences.

I shut down my laptop and my mind. I won’t let myself go there—but I can’t censor dreams.

She comes to me sometimes in darkness, especially when rain is falling outside.

She’s an elemental and can’t be controlled. It’d be like fending off lightning with my fists.

Unlike Grier, I hear her words and whispers, the seemingly careless but touching things she says.

I’m thirty—it’s time to make a decision, but I’m sick of two columns divided by a line.

I can’t weigh or value each of their differences—I assign weights, but then tip the scales if Grier’s tally outnumbers hers.

It’s no use pretending—I can’t come to terms. I’m frozen—an iceberg looming in the dark with two ships nearby, and one will be struck.

I’m going to bed to dream of her tonight—to see what life would be like apart from what I’ve always known.

Against the comforts of a lavish life, familiar clubs and trendy shops, is a rainstorm in my arms and us alone.

But I want to be open to the winds simple and free with her.

And I'm not scared of lions and tigers and bears, because that’s where I think I belong.

© 2019, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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