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Maybe he feels the same because he doesn’t say anything, either.
But then I find that kind of nice, just being together without chatter. It’s not something a lot of people are capable of—being together quietly without it feeling bad or strange. It’s nice to be quiet with Thing. Although I scrunch my nose every time I think his “name.”
It’s not a good name, I feel. He’s not a thing. He’s a person, and he deserves a person’s name.
So after we’ve walked a while, the sun halfway through the sky, I say, “What about Mortimer?”
Thing’s head swings my way. “What?”
“As a name. You know, because mort means—”
“I know what it means.”
“And you could shorten it to Morty.”
Thing shakes his head, his nose scrunching. Which looks cute on the giant man. I smile under my ski mask. “I don’t like it. It feels like a hunched-over librarian’s name. With glasses down his nose.”
I laugh out loud.
“Okay, how about something more stately. Like Thanatos?”
He pauses, looking thoughtful for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m not the god of death.”
“It doesn’t have to be literal. You could just be named after the god of death.”
“Thanatos. . .” He tries but then shakes his head. “Doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay, you come up with some.”
He continues forwards. I notice he takes very short, slow steps to my rapid, long ones. He proved how quickly he could make this journey yesterday when he caught up to me so fast. But he goes slowly, for my sake.
He’s so patient. People are rarely patient, in my experience. I frown, staring at the snow as I continue crunching forward.
After another few moments, he says, “I can’t think of any.”
I expel a breath, the air puffing in front of me in a cloud. “Oh, come on. Out of all the names in the world, you can’t think of one that might fit you?”
He shrugs, looking my way. “Can you think of any more?”
I pause, thinking. Really trying to think of something that might fit him. And yes, what he can do, but also who he is. He’s not just Death; he’s more than that.
“What about Kharon? He ferried the dead to the Underworld. Isn’t that what you do? You aren’t Death, exactly. I get it. But you help them find passage to that other plane, right?”
Out of my peripheral vision, I see him pause a step while his head nods slightly. “Well, yes. And I like the sound of it. It is a strong name.”
I grin. “Do you want it to be your name?”
He’s a little slower for the next few steps, jogging to catch up to me. “I think. . . yes. Yes, I would like it to be my name.”
“Hello then, Kharon. Welcome to the world.”
I watch his mouth as he smiles wide. It’s a little terrifying, considering his big, sharp teeth. But also really wonderful to see. And I feel warm inside despite the cold that I could bring him a better sense of identity than just being a “thing.”
I look in front of me again, a little disconcerted by how good it makes me feel to make him happy. I just understand how lonely it feels without an identity in this world. So much of my life is spent alone, as no one, or as whoever I need to be for my hunting. Rarely am I just Ksenia.
We go a little further before he speaks again. “Thank you for the gift of a name. You are very kind. That is an unusual thing in this world.”
I nod, a little disconcerted with how much I feel like I know Kharon. Do I just feel a bond with him because he was there after I experienced the traumatic situation of my uncle’s betrayal? Really, we know so little of one another. Well, at least I haven’t told him about me. Or is that why it feels possible to get close to him? Because for once, especially with what’s felt like stepping into a fairytale after the worst thing I could ever imagine happened, I’ve been jarred out of my usual, strictly controlled life? I let no one in. Ever.
But after you lose everything. . . Well, it all just seems ridiculous. What did all that control really get me? It didn’t protect me in the end. And Kharon knows me in this present moment, without a past.
Are we only a collection of past facts and memories? Or are we the person we are now, as we experince this moment?
It’s confusing and overwhelming to understand or try to untangle. Because for a terrifying moment that’s immediately followed by guilt, I feel free.
Then the wind starts whipping up stronger, and all my focus is thankfully taken by the struggle to walk forward as snow begins pelting us from what feels like all directions at once.
