Into Thin Air

Adonis Deluca was dangerously handsome the moment he was born. He was so remarkably attractive, even as an infant, that the doctor who delivered him said, “He’s an Adonis!” Upon hearing that and seeing her son for the first time, his mother discarded the name she and his father had originally picked out for him.

“I know we should name him after my father,” Mrs. Deluca, a Greek American said, “Tradition be damned! He is an Adonis.”

His Italian-born father agreed, mostly because he lived and breathed by the adage “happy life, happy wife,” but also because it was hard not to notice what near-perfect physical specimen his first-born son was.

“Look at how big his hands are!” Mr. Deluca exclaimed, “He has a future in sports!”

Adonis first became aware of his physical attributes when his babysitter took him and his younger brother Pericles for walks around the neighborhood. Hardly anyone as much as peered into the carriage, but all were transfixed by Adonis’s budding handsomeness. He was striking with his olive skin, dark hair, strong features, perfectly straight teeth, and hazel eyes that changed from green to dark brown, depending on the lighting.

Although his appearance opened doors for him, instead of making Adonis vain and conceited, it made him withdrawn and insecure. As he reached puberty, it was not bad enough that girls called him “cute” and followed him home from school. His name cemented his torment. As a teenager, the attraction of young women escalated, as did the chiding from his classmates.”

“Oh ADONIS,” bully Mack Hanley would often say, “You are so handsome. It’s a good thing because you are dumb as (bleep)!” The others would laugh, but always invited him on outings.

“Why do you want to hang out with me if I’m so dumb?” Adonis finally asked.

“Easy, jerky,” Mack said, “because girls like you and we can get your leftovers.”

After enduring decades of teasing, Adonis finally confronted the source of his problem.

“Why on earth did you name me Adonis?” he asked his mother, after learning that in Greek mythology, Adonis was a youth of remarkable beauty. “I want to change my name to something ordinary. Like Joe. Or Mike. Or Bob!”

“Your father’s surname is Italian, and I am Greek; it was never a question that you would have a Greek name.”

“But why Adonis?” he asked again, emphatically, “why not Demetrius or Evangelos?”

“Look in the mirror,” my son!” she would say, “You were blessed with wonderful features. Use them to your best advantage.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” his brother chimed in, “you are RIDICULOUSLY handsome. And ridiculous in general.” Then he immediately ran from the room before Adonis could formulate a fitting retort.

By the time he was 18, Adonis was wearing from the pressure of the attention. Immediately upon graduating from high school, he left home with no preamble. Putting a few belongings and all his graduation money into his backpack, he set off on his bicycle, leaving no note.

When Mrs. Deluca realized her son was gone, she was bereft.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Mr. Deluca, said, “Wherever he is, doors will open for him.”

“Can I have his room?” Pericles asked with hope evident in his voice, “It’s bigger than mine!”

Mrs. Deluca held up her wooden spoon as a warning for Pericles to cease and desist, and he scurried outside to play. She then put a white candle under her older son’s picture on the mantel and prayed for his safe return.

 When Adonis left on his walkabout, he intended to travel deep into the woods where he could be a hermit and finally achieve the solitude that he so craved. However, as he set up his small tent deep in the forest, he happened upon a group of ambitious young Ambassadors, all of whom were angling to become National Gold Award Girl Scouts. When they caught sight of Adonis, they abandoned their original plan to build a model sustainable village, instead made Adonis their personal project. They feed him S’mores, rubbed his tired feet, and washed his clothes against the rocks in the nearby lake. Adonis protested a bit, albeit weakly, his resolve weakened by the dedication of the nubile nymphs. He loved the S’mores and the pampering so much that he lingered for a week, and the Girl Scouts promised to send him Thin Mints for the rest of his life during their annual cookie drive.

Adonis, always the dutiful son, went back home a short month later, with a tan, and ten extra pounds, chagrined by his inability to blend in with the scenery. With no job and no plan for the future, he immersed himself in the family dry-cleaning business. He hoped that his rugged handsomeness would be eclipsed by the sweaty and grimy appearance he would achieve by working the machines. However, as was his fate, this did not happen. When things were slow in the shop, his Aunt Helen sent him to local establishments to drop off fliers advertising specials, and later to make deliveries.

           “Why can’t someone else do it,” he asked, preferring to hide in the back of the

           “Adonis,” said Aunt Helen, laughing, “look at yourself! The women in the neighborhood will come to the store just to see you! There is a lot of dirty laundry to go around in this town!”

At 18, he tried to obfuscate his pulchritudinous appearance by growing a long beard that fell to his waist in banana curls. He went so far as to dye it white, thinking it would make him look older and less attractive.

           “Mama! Look! It’s Santa!” a young boy said when Adonis delivered dry-cleaning to his home.

           “No, it’s not,” the blushing mother said, self-consciously brushing her hair behind her ears, “at least I don’t think so.” Then she proceeded to untie her apron and invite him in for coffee.

           Adonis, embarrassed and irked, sternly said, “Kid – I am NOT Santa Claus!” and told the fawning mother who stared at him longingly that he was a monk in witness protection.

           “Does that mean you took a vow of chastity?” she asked, with obvious disappointment in her voice.

           Hoping to escape being around rabid women, Adonis eventually got a job in construction. Each morning before work, he went to a different coffee shop to have breakfast, hoping to have some level of anonymity. If he went to the same place twice, the servers relentlessly slipped him their telephone numbers.

           Once again, his plan was thwarted.

           “Water with lemon and two eggs over easy with the yolks drizzled over 7-grain toast and coffee with skim milk” a wizened waitress at each establishment would chant as he walked through the door.

Hiding at the counter under a hoodie and the long white beard, he could never seem to eat in peace, try as he would.

           “You have the eyes of an old soul,” a tall and busty black woman with narrow hips said one morning, staring at him as she and her husband sidled up to the counter to pay for their take-out order, “A very old soul.” Then she slipped her phone number into his pocket, only to be observed by her husband, who was about to clock Adonis before Henry the manager intervened.

           “No fights!” he said to the cuckholeded husband, “he did nothing. It cannot be helped. He is handsome. It is not easy for him.”

           Mollified, the husband patted Adonis on the shoulder with a “Sorry man,” and left the restaurant.

           “Your breakfast is free,” Henry said, “for your trouble.”

           “No! No! I don’t want free breakfast! I want to be anonymous!” Adonis protested.

           All the people at the counter fell into a wave of collective laugher, as Adonis threw a twenty on the counter and stormed out the door.

           That night, he took drastic measures. A local psychic (who gave him a free card reading) had told him that he should confront himself in the mirror to understand the meaning of life and ask for relief.

           “This is not Snow White,” he said to his frowning reflection, “so I’m not gonna ask you if I’m the fairest of them all. However, can you make me less handsome? Maybe not ugly – but someone who blends in.”

           “Forget it,” a voice from nowhere called out, “you can’t just disappear into thin air.”

           Adonis, who had a deep-seated aversion to “you can’t” immediately morphed into Warrior mode.

           “Try to stop me!” he shouted back at his likeness.

           And, just like that, he disappeared into thin air!

           At first his family assumed that he was on another camping trip, and would return home in due course. However, when he was gone for a week, everyone who knew him became concerned. With the urging of his mother, the local police issued an APB. His face was on posters throughout town, plastered on telephone poles and in shop windows. His image replaced those of missing children on milk cartons, and the local news ran the story of his disappearance three times a day, sometimes more. Vigils were held every night, the women donned in black, held white candles, fasted, and prayed. The men, while initially happy that their competition was gone, subsequently joined their wives and woman friends and daughters. The front lawn at the Deluca home was cluttered with flowers, framed pictures of Adonis, teddy bears, and baked goods.

           Adonis, still lingering in the atmosphere, felt free for the first time in his life. He could fly a kite without having wives offer their husbands’ ties for the tail. He could lift balloons high above the clouds!

           Some months after his departure, he grew homesick and bored with his windy activities and he decided it was time to see his family was faring in his absence. He blew back home one swelteringly hot afternoon, and hovered over the yard. As fate would have it, the whole family was gathered for Sunday dinner. The picnic tables were full of bottles of white and red wine and salami and cheese and bread and fruit, as the men played cards and the women fanned themselves. His father stood over the grill, sweating profusely, as he grilled a variety of meat. Seeing that Mr. Deluca was sweating profusely, Adonis instinctively offered a ripple of wind to cool him off. When that did not seem to do the trick, he sent a long sweeping breeze that rippled the leaves of the trees.

           The act, while thoughtful and loving, blew his cover.

“What an extraordinarily beautiful breeze that was,” his mother exclaimed.

“Yes,” Aunt Helen agreed, “it’s the most beautiful breeze I ever felt in my life!”

Suddenly, everyone in the yard rose, arms outstretched, twirling, laughing and basking in the wind.

Adonis, realizing that he missed them all, slipped down to earth to join them, surrendering to his fate. Before doing so, however, he lifted the posters of his image that still hung all over town, tore down the power lines, and uprooted trees. As a last hurrah, he carbonated the Chardonnay and Pinot Grigio the women in his family drank, turning it into a sparkling reminder that he was home again, as they toasted him.