The daily life of a marriage counselor could be grueling. The hours were long and there was little to do but listen to people vent their anger at each other. You would hear them talk about how they were cheated on, or how their spouse didn’t understand them, or how they didn’t know what they were doing wrong. And then, once in a while, fate smiled upon you and threw a curve ball to spice things up, as if to say that it was time for some drama. You could very well wake up one day, thinking it would be yet another day of nodding along and zoning out when one spouse got upset with the other, only to discover that it was your turn to deal with some nonsense that would stick in your mind out of sheer absurdity for the rest of your days.
The husband would say he wanted to get back with his former wife but won’t tell why. Or maybe the wife would say she was going to kill herself but won’t give any details. Or even everyone’s favorite, the one where the wife was a closeted lesbian through all those years and now she wanted to come out.
Today it just so happened to be Vera’s lucky day. The morning appointments had been all straightforward: a wife wanted to reconcile; a husband was in denial; one husband wanted to leave and take the family’s pets; one wife was angry with the husband’s dog. It was like an episode of Maury, except the couples were nowhere near as trashy, and yet their issues were just as mind-numbing.
Coming back from lunch, however, was something different, something new. Instead of the Taylors—a couple Vera had been counseling for months with moderate results, but she suspected they just needed someone to vent to rather than helping them work on improving things—she was greeted by a tall, impassive woman in a simple yet elegant dark gray dress; a mundane man in plain clothes, who looked so unremarkable he could go unnoticed in a crowd of two; and the usual exasperated Jenny, who rushed forward, almost stumbling on her own clunky shoes and words.
"I’m so sorry, Vera, but she demands to see you right now," Jenny said in a tone that sounded as though she was about to cry. "I told her you weren’t available, but she insisted."
Vera sighed and gave her receptionist a quick hug. "Thanks, Jen, I’ll take care of this." She turned to the guests waiting outside her office. "Can you tell me what this is about?"
The lady stepped forward; her eyes were intense, her lips set tight, and her expression neutral. The long hair, black as the sky, ran down and framed her face, contrasting against her porcelain skin. "You may call me Mara. This is my husband Joachim." The man waved hello with a warm smile. "I require your expert help."
"And what can I do for you?"
Mara’s stare alone dropped the room temperature to below freezing. "I cannot disclose such information in public, and without client confidentiality."
"And I would never break that trust. Yet, I’m afraid my schedule is full for the rest of the week."
"She said she would call forth the day of reckoning if you didn’t agree to see her immediately," Jenny said. A subtle smile painted Mara’s otherwise stern face: landing somewhere between threatening and teasing, it was a smile that would make most people think twice.
"I’ve received a death threat or two, but ‘day of reckoning’? That’s a first," Vera said, with little care to hide her amusement. She still had a few minutes to spare until the next appointment; she might as well hear them out, lest judgment day befall upon them. "Fine, come on in."
"Are you sure about that?" Jenny asked, but a shrug was all Vera could offer before closing the door behind her.
The interior of the office was sparse of furniture, lending it a spacious feel. The walls were bare save for a large landscape painting of a sunset in a forest with and a cozy wooden cabinet in the corner. To the left was a leather sofa and a chair, and to the right, a bookcase and a sturdy oak wood desk; scattered over the latter was a small mountain of papers and pens. Vera once vowed that the day it wasn’t a mess would be her last at the job; the promise was still going strong, but more than once that month a tingle of tidiness had run through her veins.
Mara sat down on the couch while Joachim remained standing, his hands clasped in front of him. "I apologize for my wife’s words. She can be moody at times."
"Do not apologize on my behalf," Mara said. He offered her a smile despite her stony gaze.
Professionalism meant that Vera had to compartmentalize her thoughts and emotions whenever dealing with clients. Still, it was nigh impossible to ignore the chasm between the bickering couple; one was stern and regal, while the other was friendly and modest. Experience taught her that opposites attract, and so she could guess at the source of their argument by listening to their conversation, even if she had to force herself to keep a straight face.
Vera let out a sigh to clear away the tension in the air. "Do you feel comfortable sharing details now?"
"Yes." Mara placed her palms together and rested them on her lap. "But first, I should admit to my real identity."
"Please do." Vera pulled a chair over near the couch for the husband, but Joachim motioned for her to take it instead, choosing to remain standing.
After a brief pause, Mara spoke again, "I am Death incarnate, in human form." Her voice sounded confident and unwavering, betraying none of the nerves that came with such a confession.
An unsurprising shiver ran down her spine. "You’re kidding." Vera found herself interested in hearing more, but no more words followed from Mara’s mouth.
Joachim shook his head and chuckled. "I assure you, it’s true. Although she failed bringing me to the afterlife once or twice, so maybe she isn’t as powerful as she claims."
"Five times, fool. Five times!" Mara said. "See? He is mocking me." She glared at her husband, but he shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, whatever she’s capable of, I’m glad she didn’t succeed," he said.
"That’s enough of this nonsense. Now, to business." Mara paused, expecting something from Vera, who in turn remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "The reason I plead with you for help is that my husband insists on interfering in my affairs."
"Your reaping activities, I assume."
"Precisely. He keeps scribbling out names from my list, deterring me from collecting souls, and thereby preventing me from executing the proper order of things." Mara glared at her husband with obvious resentment, but he stayed resolute in his convictions.
Joachim said, "If you want me to do my job, then I must get in your way." Turning to a bewildered Vera, who had woken up early in the morning with high hopes for a laid-back day to ease the tensions before the weekend, he added, "I’m a practitioner."
The world stood still for a moment, so Vera could process what they had said. "Are you telling me a doctor married Death herself, of all people?"
"Correct." Mara said. "So, I request your help to make my husband stop interfering with my work."
A knock at the door; Jenny poked her head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but the Taylors had to cancel last minute."
"Alright, thanks Jen." The door closed. Vera took a deep breath; it was time to help them. "Let’s start by going over