After John's death, life seemed to spin in a different circle; questioning the meaning of life became my new pastime, along with spewing angry words at God. I felt lost in a very dark cave called depression.
As time passed, my friends and family tried to set me up with dates. They had good intentions of trying to find me love and happiness. But I wasn't in the mood to fall in love. It was a risky business that love thing. Death seemed to lurk behind the eyes of those I met. Maybe I was bad luck; perhaps they would die on me too? Fear became my new best friend, and it sat by my side unbecomingly.
In response to those who encouraged me to date again, I would tell them, "When the time is right, someone will walk up to me unexpectedly and tell me his name is John. That will be my sign."
I honestly believed my chances were next to none, which suited me fine.
So imagine how shocked I was when dancing at the I-BEAM that a young, handsome man danced by my side. I-Beam was a place a woman could dance unnoticed for eternity; it was a gay club. What was this guy doing dancing by me? Gee, couldn't he tell I was a woman? His flirtation was blatant, causing me to blush. Nervous and caught off guard by my feelings of attraction, I decided to leave the dance floor. He tapped my shoulder. A rush of warmth went through me, causing my friend Fear to melt. He said in broken English, "My…name…Yann." I repeated, "Yawn?" His following words changed my world. He said,
"Yann…is John in French."
Photo: Part of a 17th-century hutch door carved in walnut at Chateau de Chenonceau.
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