The Client

“You have ten minutes to collect five possessions you want to bring.” I said, glancing at the brassy pocket watch in my hand. The man nodded, smiling softly.

“I’ve been preparing for this for quite some time. It’s just down the hall, one moment.” The middle aged man walked around the corner before returning with a backpack. He slipped on a hooded sweater, slung the backpack over his shoulder and nodded. “Ready.”

I arched an eyebrow, snapping the watch shut and shoving it into my pocket. “That was quick. Most people are usually packing, unpacking and repacking up until the last minute. You made my job easier. I hate waiting.”

The man laughed, how strange.

“I have been thinking about it non-stop and I’ve read up on your organization. There are only a few items I want to bring. Let’s go.” He started towards the door, his steps purposeful and sure. I reached for my briefcase, it was light despite being wood. I gripped the smooth handle.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

***

I’ve never considered myself the type to help others. I was more the sort to let people figure it out on their own while I chased more exciting prospects and a carefree life. Anything -or anywhere- that didn’t involve me offering advice was preferable. At least, that’s what I remember.

I was a shitty advisor anyway.

I pulled out my watch and checked the time. The next appointment was in a few minutes.

Standing up from my office chair, I donned the long grey coat and pinned on the company’s broach. Grabbing my briefcase off the floor, I adjusted my grip to the weight, and headed out the sliding glass doors. 

“Hey Ash! If you have a moment!” A familiar voice called from behind me. I turned to see a tall man striding towards me, large golden spectacles reflecting the afternoon light.

I let out a breath of exasperation. “Hey Kai. You look different today. New client?” He beamed at me.

“Yeah. Apparently the client only respects male authority figures, particularly professors. I will never understand why people dictate respect on whether or not you have a penis.” Kai shrugged “Anyway, that’s not the reason why I wanted to talk to you. I heard that this is your last client and I wanted to offer my congratulations.” I said nothing, my foot tapping on the cement. “You’ve been here so long, longer than most-” he continued to ramble. If I hit him really hard with my briefcase, I wondered, would it knock him out long enough for me to leave?

“Thanks, Kai.” I said, cutting him off “But I have to go.” He nodded and clapped my shoulder.

“It’s been a real pleasure, Ash. Hope I’m not here as long as you were.” He chuckled and walked back inside the building.

“Babbling idiot” I muttered and started walking downtown. This next client wasn’t too far out of the way, I should be right on time.

I reached a small brown building. It was white in its younger days, but decades of neglect had taken its toll on the unsuspecting building. I scanned the building, looking for the right apartment number.

“101…102…105…ah. 113!” I moved to the left side of the building to apartment 113. I rapped my knuckles on the door.

Silence.

I knocked again.

Still silence.

I reached for the door knob and twisted. It was unlocked and I peered inside.

“Mr…” I searched my brain to recall the name. “Torres. Are you there?” I spotted a lump curled on the couch. I stepped in and closed the door behind me, the rusty hinges screaming protest. I approached the couch and looked down at the curled up figure. “Mr. Torres. It’s time to go.” I watched his body stiffen and sensed wary apprehension.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“You know who I am.” The silence stretched out for a couple of heartbeats and for a moment, you could hear an infant’s giggle from the apartment upstairs.

“No,” his voice shaking, not even convincing himself. “N-no I don’t.” I rolled my eyes.

“Mr. Torres, this is not your home anymore. We have to leave.” I reached out my hand to get him upright. Honestly, I don’t have time for this. In an instant, he sat up and recoiled from me, his brown eyes round and panicked.

“No. You need to leave.” I studied the unruly client. He was young, nineteen at the most. Wild curly hair going every direction. I gathered myself, looked him in the eyes and said the three words which were as familiar to me as my grey coat.

“You. Are. Dead.” My words were clipped and short. Mr. Torres reeled his head back like a slap across the face.

Then he did something that has never happened to me before.

He ran away from me.

***

It took me a little to catch up to him. I had to collect my things and damn it, the briefcase was heavier.

“Mr. Torres! You can’t run forever!” I called out, panting. Damn, the kid can run. He was still sprinting down the street near the park. His pace slowed and finally he sat on a bench, his chest heaving while I made my way to him.

“W-why am I breathing so heavy if I’m dead?” he gasped. I slumped on the bench next to him, setting down the briefcase.

“Memories. It’s what you correlate with running. I’m not alive and I’m out of breath.” I replied, fanning myself. He looked at me, unsure whether or not to laugh.

“So,” he began. “I’m dead? What am I now? I think I would know if I’m dead.”

“A soul. Taking shape of your physical self.” I replied, waving my hands in the air. “You know you’re dead, you’re just in shock. Or denial. Maybe both.”

“You know, you’re a pretty terrible angel.” The kid complained.

“Do I look like a wheel covered in eyes? Not an angel.” He leaned away.

“A demon?”

I scoffed. “I smell better than a demon. C’mon, walk with me.” I brushed myself off and heaved up the briefcase. The kid hesitated. I sighed. “I won’t do anything weird, just walk with me, Mr. Torres.” He got up, watching me with untrusting eyes.

“Okay.” He paused. “My name is Ian.”

“I know.” And we began to walk.

***

A few streets later, we found ourselves in front of a cafe. It was eclectic and out of the way. The kind of place where college kids go at all sorts of hours. The tables were stained, the inside functional and a little shabby, but there was something about the atmosphere that made it comfortable for the displaced. 

“Shall we have a seat?” I asked. Ian looked at me.

“What?”

I jerked my chin up at the cafe. “Let’s sit down and talk.” He fidgeted, gave me a sharp nod, and went inside. He opted for a corner spot and I returned with a mug. Sitting down, I handed him the mug full of coffee. He started gulping and I blanched at him. Humans and their coffee, I will never understand.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I usually don’t answer questions, let alone take my clients to a cafe. In fact, this is the only time I have ever done so. You should make use of it.”

Peering over his mug, Ian asked, “What are you?”

“We are known by many names. Angel of Death, Soul Eater, you get the gist. We go by Reaper these days.”

“I kinda understand that part. But I mean, what are you? Male? Female?” I blinked. Ian flushed and added quickly “I just wanted to know to make sure I don’t offend you.”

“Offend me?” I shook my head. “I am what you want to see. Reapers have no sex, we just are. If you are more comfortable seeing a female, you will more feminine features and vice versa. Next question.”

He tilted his head “Can anyone be a Reaper?”

“No. Well, sort of.”

“Sort of? How?”

I furrowed my brow and searched for the right words. “I am going to try to explain it as simple as I can, because it’s rather complicated.” Ian nodded and propped his chin on a hand, attentive. “There are a finite amount of souls in the world. Ideally, each soul is to accomplish its purpose in one lifetime.” Ian raised his hand to pause me. “And before you ask me, no. I do not know what yours-or anyone’s purpose is.” He lowered his hand, deflated. “Only the cosmic powers do. Reapers were created to relieve the cosmic powers of the burden of reincarnating souls. Souls who did not achieve their purpose in one lifetime are put in a pool for eligibility to serve as a Reaper while waiting to be reincarnated. It is completely random.”

“Wait a minute,” said Ian, gaping. “You are telling me that being a Reaper is like JURY DUTY?”

“I suppose when you put it that way, then yes.”

“That’s stupid. How long have you been a Reaper?” I felt my jaw tighten.

“It’s time to go.” I shoved my chair out, snatched up the briefcase, and left the cafe, Ian scrambling to keep up.

This wasn’t a good idea. This wasn’t a good idea. This wasn’t a good idea.

***

“ Mr-Miss Reaper, sir, uh, ma’am!” I heard the kid call out. The irony was not lost on me, the newly deceased chasing after me. I whirled around and snapped, “There is a reason why Reapers don’t the take the time to talk to clients.” I watched as Ian’s expression became hurt and affronted.

“I didn’t ask to die! I didn’t WANT to die! I don’t even want to be here. But I guess you wouldn’t understand that because you are already dead.” I walked slowly over to Ian, my body trembling in fury. He started to turn as if to run but I lunged forward, grabbed his arm in an iron grip and yanked him forward. 

“Where are we going?” He asked fearfully, I didn’t answer and continued pulling him even as he struggled to escape. 

***

We arrived at his shabby apartment and I pushed him forward, locking the door behind us. 

“Don’t try to run away this time.” I warned him “You can collect up to five items you want to bring.” The kid stared blankly at me.

“Five items to bring? For what?” 

“It’s more of a symbolic thing. Up to five memories, experiences, or feelings you want to bring into your next life. Go on, hurry it up.” He gave me a searching look and left the room. Moments later he returned with a small green collar clutched in his hand. 

“Okay. Got it.” 

How odd that he only chose one. “Last chance for you to collect anything else.” 

“This is all I need,” Ian assured me. 

“Alright, we have one more place to go to,” I said, opening the door. Before I could stop myself I gestured at the collar. “What is it?”

Ian smiled down at the collar. “I had a cat. I found her on the side of the road, she was only a kitten, one eye missing and malnourished. Had a bad case of mange too.” He chuckled. “I understood what that felt like. To be abandoned, alone, no one to look after you. She came home with me, we took care of each other. We were family. I want to remember her.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t think you would.” 

***

Sunset was rapidly approaching as we continued on our walk. I heard Ian take a breath.

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Why do you have to ruin a nice sunset?” I grumbled “Sure. Fine. Whatever”

“You said Reapers were souls who didn’t accomplish their purpose. So don’t you have a soul too?” It was an innocent question, despite its invasiveness. I was quiet for a moment, watching a stranger extend his arm toward an elderly man. The elderly man smiled and placed a wrinkled hand on the proffered arm. They shambled across the street together.

“The cosmic powers took it away. Souls have memories, you see. Reapers with all their memories might run off and not do their duty.” I frowned in thought. “We gain fragments of our soul back after each soul is collected.” Hesitating I added “You are my last soul to collect.”

He seemed to accept the idea and smiled sadly at me. 

“There’s so much I wanted to do. I wasn’t ready,” he said dismally. “I don’t think I accomplished my purpose and it feels like…”

“It’s not fair? I think maybe I…know how you feel. I don’t think I’m ready to go either.”

Ian blinked in surprise. “But you’ll become human after I’m gone, right? Isn’t that what you want?”

My footsteps slowed and I looked down at the pavement and the words that festered inside of me spilled out. “It’s not that easy. I wasn’t very good at being human. The pieces I remember…I’ve lived so many lifetimes, never achieving my purpose. I still don’t know why I’m here. I haven’t been very good as a Reaper, hell, no one has ever taken this long to collect their souls. But at least I was working toward something, like I knew what I was supposed to do. Some sense of purpose.”

Something warm wrapped around me and my head jerked up in bewilderment. It took me a moment to realize what was happening. I was being hugged. And it was nice.

“Here I thought you didn’t have feelings. I think you do, even if it’s just a little.” Ian said, pulling away from me. “No one knows why they are truly here. You said so yourself. I think the best way to live is to think outside of yourself. And I think I know now what I’m supposed to do. I know I’ll be okay. I’m ready to go.”

***

I pushed the last button on the elevator, leaned my head against the metal wall and closed my eyes. This was it, I did it. My last client. He looked brighter than any soul I have ever seen, waving goodbye as the sun finally set and he disappeared with the last rays. The weight in my briefcase felt heavier than ever. The chime of the elevator reaching my destination cut through my thoughts and I sauntered out. 

The room was dark. How unusual. Flickers of light were roaming about, like fireflies on a summer night. I continued on my path despite the lack of light, familiar with this room. I stopped at a wooden table and placed the briefcase on it. I pulled my hand away as the briefcase sank into the table, melting like hot wax, and disappeared, . 

“Congratulations, little Reaper. You have collected your last soul,” a thousand voices boomed around me, a harmonic melody, both grating and resplendent. I looked up, searching for the source of the voices and I saw galaxies swirling above me, colors never seen before winking at me. 

“Did Ian accomplish his purpose?”

“Yes”

“What was it?” I asked, knowing my question may go unanswered. 

“To teach you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, little Reaper. Empathy is the last fragment of a person’s soul. You cannot be complete without it. Ian was made to teach you this. Do you think we would send you back without it? No, little one. Half a soul is not a soul at all but dust.”

At a loss for words, I sank to the ground, trying to comprehend. 

“Are you ready for your new life, little one?”

I looked up, Ian’s words echoing in my head.

I think the best way to live is to think outside yourself.

“I’m ready.”