A Visit From Death
Death knew today was the end of everything.
He’d avoided it for as long as he could.
He sat at the rickety wooden table and stared into the glowing fire as it danced.
He’d been there all day, preparing himself for what lay ahead.
Pages and pages of her words—her previous lessons from throughout time—sat before him.
He’d stored her work in a little house on an island where he’d collected a hermit nearly a century before.
He would light a fire and read her work in the in-between moments.
He’d brought it all here for what he knew would be their last meeting.
The portrait she’d had painted of him sat on the mantel, staring down imperiously. Is that how she sees me?
He remembered the times they’d met—how he had shown up to her, so sure in those early times that she would lose.
Now he sat there, certain he had finally won—that this would be their final meeting.
She had broken his rules. She had exposed the inner workings of their deal. Victory didn’t feel anything like he thought it would.
The door creaked open, and she was there. She took her time, studying him, the room, taking it all in.
He sat up straighter, revealing no emotion, though the space in his chest galloped. “You came.”
“Did I have a choice?” She sidled into the room, shutting the door behind her.
“I suppose you didn’t.” He gestured to the seat opposite him, studying her.
She settled in the chair, the light dancing over her features like it did all those years ago.
Thanks to him, she hadn’t aged a day; her skin was as lovely and fresh as the day he had healed her.
Though she hadn’t aged physically, she had hardened, all the naivete from that day in the cabin gone.
She sat straight in her chair. She had nothing in her hands.
“Before we start, I want to thank you.”
His eyebrows lifted with surprise. “Thank . . . me?” That was the last thing he’d thought she’d say. After all the pain she’d had . . . the way she’d cursed him . . .
“I do. I thank you for this life and all that I’ve had the chance to experience. I’ve been reminded of the beauty I said existed all that time ago. I can see it again, and I thank you for the gift of life to do so.”
A feeling close to hope rose inside him.
“But . . . I come to you tonight empty handed.” She held out her palms for emphasis, and whatever Death had for a heart plummeted, regret twisting around within him. “I don’t have anything else for you but me.”
“What?” He leaned away suspiciously. “Those weren’t the terms of our deal.”
“Actually, I believe they are.” She paused, taking a deep breath.
“I’ve shown you all the good of humans I could find and wrote it for you.
I’ve collected hundreds of stories and shown you people who strive to make the world better, if not in their lifetimes, then their children’s.
After all of this, there’s nothing more to say.
So I offer myself. I want you to look at me and say that all humanity is weak, feckless, violent, and selfish.
I want you to tell me that none are worth saving. ”
She met his gaze head-on. “That was, after all, the proposition. Those were, I believe, your words.”
Humans were weak, feckless, violent, and supremely selfish.
But she was right. There were exceptions.
She had shown him that.
She was the exception.
He wondered if she must see the truth in his silence.
She continued, “So tonight will be the end of this. I offer myself as proof of man’s goodness and of all the beauty I promised there was.
” She pointed to the scattered pages in front of him.
“If you don’t see it by now, there’s nothing else I can do. ”
Her words rumbled within him. She was right.
His eyes flicked up to the portrait one last time. “But you broke one of the rules of our deal . . . What if I argue that it makes all you’ve done null and void? What if I don’t accept this response?”
She shrugged. “Then that’s on you. You only asked that I prove that humans are redeemable, and I’ve done that.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I think you already believe it—that you know the truth. That’s why you didn’t let me lose. That’s why you saved me from myself at the lowest points of my life, when the loneliness was so thick it was all I could see. You knew I was worth saving.” Her voice rang out in the small cabin.
He stopped, thinking of the world without her in it.
It was true that he often went years without seeing her, the time passing in a blur for him, but it was comforting to know she was there, working on their agreement.
She was the bright spot in years that had none.
He didn’t want to contemplate his existence without her, then or now.
Even if he did start the world over, he would know of her absence.
“But if you’re gone, what will I have to look forward to? I have no dominion on the other side. I can’t linger there to talk with you.”
Nella shook her head. “You’re not supposed to. Your work is here. It may feel like a punishment, but you’re needed. Without you, life doesn’t go on.”
Death glanced away. She was right, but he wasn’t ready to admit it.
“What if I don’t want them? What if . . . it’s only you?”
“But there’s not only me. My mama could see you—you just never caught her. If I had been able to birth a child, maybe they would’ve been able to see you too. Maybe by agreeing to this, you’ll have more and not less. I’ll eventually die, yes, but I’ll also finally get to live.”
She reached for Death’s hand, capturing it in hers.
He flinched but kept it there. “I’ve shown you everything there is to know about humans: their strengths, their ingenuity, their kindness, and their love.
I’ve shown you the beauty they can create and how families can take shape and make every person in them stronger.
You made me immortal, but after all of this, I think I’ve also made you a little human.
Surely after all this time, I’ve finally earned my freedom. ”
Death gazed into the fire. She was right.
He was more.
He felt more.
Because of her.
The silence sat between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire, which gave no heat. A mix of emotions ran through him, emotions he only understood because of her. She’d taught him to see and feel through her words.
He thought their deal would change her. Instead, he was the one transformed.
She was right. She had done her job.
“Do you regret saying yes to me all those years ago?” Death asked.
She turned to face him. “I did. A few days ago, I wished I had accepted my death and gone on to the next life, never having done any of it. But someone helped me see—helped remind me of what I believed back then—helped me to remember how I feel today. I can’t regret the past. If I hadn’t said yes, I wouldn’t have had this life, and I wouldn’t have had my friendship with you. ”
He nodded, primarily to himself. He mattered to her nearly as much as she mattered to him, and that truth allowed him to expand.
She was right, and she’d done what he’d thought impossible.
She’d made him care. She’d made him see. She’d made him love. She was the most redeemable of them all. She’d won.
“I suppose it’s done.” The fire crackled in the silence, the logs settling, marking the end of their time together.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she said after a beat, “but what does that mean?”
Death chuckled. Her spirit was as bright as ever. “I suppose it means I agree to your revised terms.”
She leaned forward. “Care to elaborate?”
“Our deal is complete. You can live your life. Your final lifetime. You’ve earned it and done me a great service.”
“All of it? Without interference?” she said to be sure. He liked the sound of hope in her voice.
He supposed he deserved that. “Yes, without interference. Live, love, do whatever you wish with your life, for it is yours.”
“Children?”
He shrugged. “If you still want them. I find them loud.”
At the sight of her, joy shining, a new sensation crept in. From Nella’s words, he knew the sensation must be happiness. It was odd, so hard and bright in his chest, as if he’d swallowed sunshine.
She stood, wrapping her arms around him, the sensation leaving him warm and feeling complete. “Thank you.”
He hugged her back and shared the truth he’d been carrying with him.
“I suppose a part of me knew it would come to this. I left each of our meetings a bit more than before, but also a bit less. Less sure that all humans were beyond redemption. More aware of what they were capable of. All those stories you brought me showed the best of what humans could be in spite of their nature and propensity for greed. Your love, losses, and pain gave it all meaning. I finally understand what you meant in that small cabin all those years ago. In truth, I should have released you from our deal long ago, but that would have meant losing you.”
She nodded. “You didn’t want to be alone.”
“You know how bad it is.” Death stood, glad for the resolution, though sad for her loss. She’d have no more reason to meet with him. “I suppose you’ll get all those things you wanted.”
He gathered the papers and moved to the door. It was time for another collection, as always.
“Where’re you going?” she called out.
Death frowned, confused.
She smiled. “Our meetings are not quite done. I still have a long life of dinners with my old friend.”
He could feel his own smile as it spread across his face, and he settled back in his seat. “How about a story?”
“Let me tell you about my final love.” She beamed, her smile bright enough to light the cabin as she happily complied.