And Then There Was Her (And then There Was 1)

The next stop was a little hole-in-the-wall club that was more of a punk rock establishment than a place I’d see Adele at. But I was covering all ground.

Although we’d only shared that one night, I felt like I knew her pretty damn well. I felt like our souls connected. Hell, I never believed in soul mates or fate or anything like that… not until Adele.

And once she’d come into my life, there was nothing else that mattered. Adele was it. My beginning, my end… my everything.

I knew her voice, her energy. I learned what her favorite drink was, where she’d always wanted to go on vacation. Norway, of all places, to head up north and stay in one of those little igloos where you could see the Northern Lights. I told myself once I found her, once she was mine, I’d make her dream our reality.

I took a moment and just closed my eyes, feeling the breeze along my skin, smelling the city scents surrounding me. Car exhaust, cooking hot dogs from street-corner vendors, roasted chestnuts, the various aromas from the restaurants.

I opened my eyes, bright lights, flashing neon signs all surrounding me. They were all part of what made up the city. I wasn’t a fool; I knew my fantasy of finding Adele might not come to fruition, that I may never find her again. It was like a needle in a haystack. I wasn’t insane or naive. But I knew I had to do everything in my power to find her. Because if I didn’t try my hardest, it was a disservice to us, to what we could have.

Sure, she may not have felt an inkling of what I had those three months ago. She may not have felt that connection, two souls becoming one. She may not have experienced any of that, so when—if—I did find her, it might be a dead end anyway.

Or maybe she felt all of it with so much bone-deep passion, just like I had, that it had stolen her breath.

And that’s what I had to find out.

So I continued my search, going from bar to bar, club to club. I only had her first name to go off of, but so far nobody knew of an Adele. They looked at me like I was crazy, obsessed, a stalker. I didn’t care. Maybe I was all those things; maybe I was more.

My night ended with me sitting at the bar of this little jazz club. The interior was small and intimate, smoky with low lighting and a relaxed atmosphere. I stuck to water, even a cup of coffee by this point. Because drinking a beer at every bar I came to was starting to make things a little less focused. I finished off the water and turned to look at the stage. No one was up there at the moment, the lights low on the podium, jukebox music still filtering around the room.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

I looked over at the bartender, then glanced up at the clock that hung on the wall. It was nearing two in the morning, closing time, last call. I shook my head and reached for my wallet. I’d only gotten a water and a cup of coffee, only a couple bucks’ worth, but I gave him a five and told him to keep the change, like I’d done at every bar so far.

“Thanks. Have a great night,” the bartender said and went to turn away.

“Hey, man, you don’t happen to know anyone, a singer, whose first name is Adele, do ya?” He turned to face me. “I don’t know her last name. I met her three months back at a bar. She was singing onstage. I’ve been trying to find her ever since.”

I saw the realization on his face before he quickly masked it. He narrowed his eyes slightly, and I could almost feel what he was thinking.

Who is the fucking guy asking about Adele?

For the first time since I’d been searching for her, I felt like there was hope, light at the end of the tunnel. But I kept it hidden, didn’t want to seem anxious, eager.

I straightened and leaned forward. “You do know who she is?” I was sure there were a hundred different Adeles in the city, but how many were there that sang, that went to these bars? Because his expression told me he knew… he knew who she was.

“Who are you?” he asked, and I heard the skepticism in his voice. “Why are you looking for someone who you don’t even know their last name?”

I sure as fuck wasn’t going to talk about how intimately I knew Adele. That was no one’s business but my own. But before I could answer, he shrugged and was talking again.

“Sorry, man. Can’t help you.” And before I could press him, he turned and left me sitting there feeling like I’d just been fed the most important morsel I ever had in my life.