finding him, unless one of the places I’d been considering looking was a pickle store (it wasn’t). It occurred to me that maybe after his accident, Adam had gone back to live with his parents for a while. Then again, I remember him saying that his mother tried to bulldoze him into going back to live at home when he first got hurt, but he couldn’t stomach the idea.
So he’s probably in the city. Somewhere.
He went back to school to get his Master’s in computer science in 2003, so he’s probably still working full time at this point. Except where? He’s been at his current company for several years, but not since 1999. He was probably working for … some other computer company. So yeah, I have no idea where he works.
In summary, I have no idea where Adam works, I have no idea where he lives, and I have less than two weeks to get him to fall in love with my younger self, who incidentally has a boyfriend.
The good news is that I know Adam is single. It’s well known that The Bitch was his first girlfriend after his injury and he won’t meet her for another year or two. So I may actually have a chance to convince him to go out with Claudia, who’s at least pretty.
I just have to find the guy.
***
I borrow one of my mother’s coats because I feel ludicrous in Adam’s oversized coat from 2013. I hoof it to Murray Hill and do a little stakeout of Adam’s old building, which is pretty much the only place I can think to look. I sit on the steps of the brownstone from two years ago, and watch the entrance of the building for any signs of guys in wheelchairs. But it’s freezing out, and I can feel my ears getting frostbitten after about fifteen minutes. I decide to get some sustenance: coffee.
I look around and see that café Adam had pointed out to me two years ago. It’s still there. Yes, I am a little disturbed that he almost died getting coffee from there, but I’m freezing and it’s no time to be picky. I go across the street and order myself a cup of decaf.
The café is small and quaint, filled with the thick aroma of roasting coffee beans. There are free tables, and as much as I know I need to go out there and look for Adam, it is really freaking cold outside. I’m sure I won’t miss him if I spend fifteen minutes here drinking my piping hot beverage.
The coffee is just as good as Adam had promised it would be. I wrap my fingers around the paper cup, absorbing its warmth. Ah, this is nice. For the first time since I got to this goddamn year, I finally feel relaxed.
That is, until I see Adam come in through the door.
Wheel in, I should say. Unlike last time, he’s in a lightweight wheelchair that doesn’t look terribly different from the one he uses in 2013. His feet rest quietly on the single footplate and his legs don’t move at all, except when they bounce slightly after he wheels over an imperfection in the floor. His hair is cut a little shorter, and he has the same face from two years ago, but something is different somehow. It’s hard to put my finger on it—something in his eyes.
“Medium coffee, black,” Adam says to the cashier. He’s got leather gloves on his hands, which he pulls off so that he can dig his wallet out of a bag attached to the back of his chair. He seems pretty comfortable with the wheelchair, but then again, it has been over two years.
I sink into my own seat, knowing I have to approach him, but half-hoping he won’t see me. Maybe he won’t recognize me. It was over two years ago, we only talked for a brief time, and my hair is a different color. He probably won’t have any idea who I am. I’ll say I’m Beth and he won’t suspect a thing.
Adam grabs the cup of coffee from the cashier and tucks it between his legs. He wheels around and is about to head for the door when his eyes rest on me. He does a double-take, but it’s definitely not followed by a smile this time. Adam does not look happy to see me. In fact, I’d say there’s a pretty good
So he’s probably in the city. Somewhere.
He went back to school to get his Master’s in computer science in 2003, so he’s probably still working full time at this point. Except where? He’s been at his current company for several years, but not since 1999. He was probably working for … some other computer company. So yeah, I have no idea where he works.
In summary, I have no idea where Adam works, I have no idea where he lives, and I have less than two weeks to get him to fall in love with my younger self, who incidentally has a boyfriend.
The good news is that I know Adam is single. It’s well known that The Bitch was his first girlfriend after his injury and he won’t meet her for another year or two. So I may actually have a chance to convince him to go out with Claudia, who’s at least pretty.
I just have to find the guy.
***
I borrow one of my mother’s coats because I feel ludicrous in Adam’s oversized coat from 2013. I hoof it to Murray Hill and do a little stakeout of Adam’s old building, which is pretty much the only place I can think to look. I sit on the steps of the brownstone from two years ago, and watch the entrance of the building for any signs of guys in wheelchairs. But it’s freezing out, and I can feel my ears getting frostbitten after about fifteen minutes. I decide to get some sustenance: coffee.
I look around and see that café Adam had pointed out to me two years ago. It’s still there. Yes, I am a little disturbed that he almost died getting coffee from there, but I’m freezing and it’s no time to be picky. I go across the street and order myself a cup of decaf.
The café is small and quaint, filled with the thick aroma of roasting coffee beans. There are free tables, and as much as I know I need to go out there and look for Adam, it is really freaking cold outside. I’m sure I won’t miss him if I spend fifteen minutes here drinking my piping hot beverage.
The coffee is just as good as Adam had promised it would be. I wrap my fingers around the paper cup, absorbing its warmth. Ah, this is nice. For the first time since I got to this goddamn year, I finally feel relaxed.
That is, until I see Adam come in through the door.
Wheel in, I should say. Unlike last time, he’s in a lightweight wheelchair that doesn’t look terribly different from the one he uses in 2013. His feet rest quietly on the single footplate and his legs don’t move at all, except when they bounce slightly after he wheels over an imperfection in the floor. His hair is cut a little shorter, and he has the same face from two years ago, but something is different somehow. It’s hard to put my finger on it—something in his eyes.
“Medium coffee, black,” Adam says to the cashier. He’s got leather gloves on his hands, which he pulls off so that he can dig his wallet out of a bag attached to the back of his chair. He seems pretty comfortable with the wheelchair, but then again, it has been over two years.
I sink into my own seat, knowing I have to approach him, but half-hoping he won’t see me. Maybe he won’t recognize me. It was over two years ago, we only talked for a brief time, and my hair is a different color. He probably won’t have any idea who I am. I’ll say I’m Beth and he won’t suspect a thing.
Adam grabs the cup of coffee from the cashier and tucks it between his legs. He wheels around and is about to head for the door when his eyes rest on me. He does a double-take, but it’s definitely not followed by a smile this time. Adam does not look happy to see me. In fact, I’d say there’s a pretty good
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