I travel back and forth a lot to Washington, DC for my job. On one particular trip, I was in a surly mood, stuck as I was in a hotel near the Key Bridge in DC. The hotels in that area are getting a bit worn, the staff tends to be nasty, the food is generally horrible, and the area is not the safest. Bored, I decided to take a cab into Georgetown. Yes, I could have walked, but I didn’t like the idea of some nut throwing me off the bridge into the Potomac. I have a fear of bridges, and that one, given the surrounding area, seems to strike terror in me.

I stopped at a tapas bar, ordered some food and wine, I sat wondering if anyone would try to hit on me. It’s not that I would have responded, but every once in a while I need validation. I’d say that about sixty percent of me wanted to be hit on, just to give me an ego boost, and the other forty percent of me wanted to be left alone. It’s true that I like knowing I’m still attractive to men, but the odds of anything happening were low. This wasn’t a hangout place, after all. Just as my plate of Patatas Bravas arrived, a terribly pale young man sat on the bar stool next to me.

He gave me a weak smile and asked, “Do you mind?”

I found his fragile appearance to be fascinating, but I feigned a lack of interest and shrugged. “Depends,” I said.

Looking a little less fragile, and with a smile a little less weak than his last one, he said, “On?”

I snorted, “Whether you pester me or not.”

His smile grew stronger and broader. “And if I do?”

The guy’s guileless ways amused me and I was actually enjoying myself. Of course, I had to act aloof, and like a little snot, said, “I’ll tell you to get lost.”

He laughed, flagged down the bartender and ordered a Virgin Mary. He took his wallet out of his jacket and laid twelve dollars on the bar. “This is for my drink,” he said to the bartender, “and for her snacks. If this is not enough, let me know.”

Just as he slipped his wallet back into his pocket, the bartender said, “You’re four bucks short.” The young man retrieved his wallet and laid another twelve dollars on the bar. “Keep the change.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I always have twelve dollars in my wallet. Now, they say that opposites attract. You’re very dark and I’m very light, so light that some people think I shine. Because we’re such opposites, I’m attracted to you, and that means I’ll probably pester you. But as far as getting lost, I’ve never understood that phrase. One can become lost or disoriented, but I’m not sure anyone can get lost. In any event, it’s hard to get lost around here. Either you walk away from the River or you walk downhill. Now, that brings up something I’ve always thought about. You know that song Amazing Grace? Well, the lyrics say I once was lost but now am found. Who found that person? I assume they mean God found him or her, because if you are lost you cannot find yourself. You can become un-lost, if you will, but you cannot find yourself. So, if God is omniscient, and you think that God found you, then you were never lost in the first place because God always knew where you were. On the other hand, if Jesus found you, that’s a different story because Jesus is not omniscient. If he were, he would never have asked God why he was being crucified—he’d already know the plan, right? So, if you pray to Jesus, he’d probably say—what’s your name?”

I was fascinated by this guy! He was ranting, yet I seemed to understand him. “My name? Um... Keiko.”

“Well, I was talking about what Jesus would ask you, but I’m glad to know your name. So, like I was saying, if you pray to Jesus, he would probably follow up to your answer with Keiko who? Then he would consult with God who would fill him in on who you were and how to find you. But, take someone like me—I am truly lost. I have no idea who I am or how I wound up here. I have no idea where I will be tomorrow either. I could be... far, far away.”

“You,” I gasped. “You have amnesia?”

The pale young man laughed. “No,” he said. “I just don’t know who I am. My identity is... how do I say this... up to interpretation. Let me get you another glass of wine and I’ll have another Virgin Mary.”

He flagged the bartender again and laid another twelve dollars on the bar. Before he could put his wallet away, I grabbed it and looked inside.

“You said you always have twelve dollars. This is empty!”

He grinned and took his wallet back. “Watch,” he said. He put his wallet back in his jacket pocket then took it out again, handing it to me. “Look inside.”

I peeled it open and saw a ten and two ones. I laughed at his trick. “How did you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said. “That’s just the way it is. I was told that twelve is a perfect number.”

“But... but it isn’t,” I stammered. “It’s divisible by...”