Onomatology
Published in the Port City Review 2022 Edition
Short Story, October 2021
The clouds outside the coffee shop windows drooped low enough to obscure the tops of the skyscrapers. It was going to rain, and I didn’t have an umbrella.
“Morning, Adaliah,” the barista said.
I wrenched my attention from the window and realized I was next in line. “Good morning, Sam.”
“The usual?” Sam asked, already sharpie-ing my name on the cup.
“Yes, thank you.”
She passed the cup to her coworker whose name slipped my mind and tapped on the computer screen, reciting my order as she went. “Large cappuccino… with extra foam and... caramel. That’ll be four o’ five.”
The cash was ready in my pocket, but a leather-gloved hand reached over my shoulder and tapped a matte black credit card on the counter.
“Make that two,” a man said.
I glanced over my shoulder.
My coffee patron was incredibly handsome with a wide, charming smile that crinkled his eyes and deep-set dimples. He wore a dark suit— fully tailored with a matching wool overcoat.
I squeaked out a greeting I couldn’t even remember. Hopefully, it was something intelligible. Or at least something simple and unawkward. Hello, maybe?
He chuckled, a sound so rich and sweet, and I panicked, thinking I had said something more along the lines of, you’re coffee, thanks for the cute.
Sam coughed, a half-hidden smile on her face.
He looked away to retrieve his card, and I immediately wished that he would’ve stared at me for a minute longer.
I blushed at the thought, shaming myself as I walked to the end of the counter to pick up my drink. You just met the guy, I scolded myself. You don’t even know his name. That didn’t stop me from facing him with more confidence than I’d managed to conjure in the last year.
“I can’t imagine you’re the type of guy who enjoys his coffee on the sweeter side,” I said. “What do you usually order?”
“Bold of you to assume this isn’t my usual order. And maybe a little insulting.” For a moment, he stared at me with an irritating smirk, clearly enjoying as I shifted under his gaze, confidence reduced to that of a mouse.
“I— I only meant that…” I wasn’t sure what I had meant. Or maybe I was, and I was too ashamed of my internalized misogyny to admit it.
Sam tossed me a life preserver in my sea of embarrassment. “Two caramel cappuccinos with extra foam.” She placed them side by side, names facing outward.
I snatched my cappuccino from the counter and read the messy script on the cup opposite mine.
Nathan.
“The name suits you,” I said.
The corner of his mouth ticked upward. “It’s a nickname, actually. Do you have one? Or will I have to suffer all the way through Adaliah each time I want to get your attention?”
I took another sip of my coffee, hoping to hide the blush creeping across my cheeks. I wanted him to say my name again, say it a thousand times more. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to suffer.”
Nathan held the door on our way out of the coffee shop. I thanked him for the coffee. I took a left and was pleasantly surprised when he turned the same way.
“Where’re you headed?” I asked.
“Nowhere in particular,” he said, his dark eyes scanning the street. He was looking for something, though I wasn’t sure what.
“So you’re following me, then?”
He feigned offense. “We were having a conversation.”
“I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be,” I said, not wanting him to leave but certainly interested in learning more about him.
“I don’t, actually.”
A single drop of water landed on my face. I elected to ignore it as if that would postpone the ones surely to follow.
It didn’t.
The downpour started abruptly, rain slicing from the sky in cold, hard sheets.
Nathan and I ducked under the green awning of the nearest deli, and I checked my watch. I was still two blocks away from work and it was already 8:56 a.m. I could brave the rain and risk my presentation getting wet or wait out the rain and be late. The latter wasn’t really an option. A wet presentation was better than missing the whole thing.
Nathan caught my arm before I could leave the safety of the awning, pulling a black umbrella out of his coat. “Can I escort you to wherever you’re headed?”
I wasn’t sure where the umbrella came from. “I don’t want to bother you,” I said.
“I already told you, I don’t have anywhere to be.” He offered his elbow. “Come on.”
I lied. I could totally bother a handsome stranger to walk me to work.
I hooked my arm around his, entirely too close to a man I’ve never met before. Entirely too intimate with the smell of his cologne.
We were silent until we reached the front of my office. It wasn’t awkward silence, though, where neither one of us knew what to say. Rather, it was a mutual enjoyment of the soothing ambience of the rain mixing with the traffic.
“So you’re in marketing,” he said, chin and umbrella tilting up to read the company name on the front of the building.
I nodded, also looking up. A few drops of rain slid off of the edge of his umbrella and landed on my cheek. “I’m a project manager.”
He hummed. “Me too. In a way.”
“In a way?” I asked. “Are you a CEO or a creative director or something?”
“You’re going to be late for your meeting,” he reminded me, slipping my arm from his.
I checked my watch again. 8:59. “Oh my god, I am.” I ran to the door, whipping my ID out of my purse and swiping it across the sensor. The door unlocked and swung open. It moved purposefully slower than usual because I was late, so I heaved it open myself, fighting the magnetic hinges. I glanced over my shoulder, knowing I likely wouldn’t ever see my debonair coffee patron again. He was already walking away. “Do you want to go to dinner?” I yelled after him. “Le Bernardin, nine o’clock?”
Nathan stopped and winked. “I’ll be there.”
Fucking butterflies.
An hour before my date, I was in the subway, waiting for a train to Manhattan. Two men were shouting at each other behind me, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying over the honking of the incoming train, indicating it wasn’t going to stop at this station. I backed away from the edge of the platform.
On the other side of the railways, I noticed a man in a familiar suit and wool overcoat, hands shoved in his pockets as he stared down the tunnel. I waved, trying to get Nathan’s attention.
Suddenly, one of the arguing men crashed into me, sending me careening over the edge of the platform—right into the path of the incoming train.
I supposed I was lucky to not land on the lethal third rail, but I was unsure what would have been a more pleasant way to die: electrocution or getting run over by a train.
I shielded my eyes from blinding headlights and realized this was it for me. I was going to die in the foul-smelling, rat-infested subway. Someone was going to have to scrub my brain matter from the rails. I felt bad for the train driver. Worst of all, I was going to miss my date.
Then, I was being yanked out of the way. A muscular pair of arms was secured around my waist, hauling me back onto the platform.
The train whizzed by.
“Are you all right?”
My heart was racing so fast it made me dizzy. I couldn’t see anything beyond my own eyelashes.
“Adaliah, are you all right?”
I blinked several times, focusing on the dark shape above me.
“Adaliah?”
“I should be dead,” I whispered. I felt it in my soul, felt it so instinctively that I knew it was true. “I should be dead.”
“Falling for me already?” Nathan said.
I shook my head. “You’re not human.” Uncertain as I was about everything right now, this was the second fact I knew was true.
He took my still-shaking hand in his and pressed his lips to my knuckles. “Thanatos, God of Death. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I blinked. “How did you get Nathan from Thanatos?”
A crease formed across his brow. “You almost die, I tell you I’m a God, and that’s what you’re worried about?” he said. “It’s called blending in, and I thought you said it suited me.”
“Did I?”
Thanatos pulled me to my feet. “We’re going to be late for our reservation.”
When you’ve stared death in the face, it’s easier to believe the impossible.