A Matter of Life and Death

She taught me not to gamble, so the irony is not lost on me that I'm now gambling for my sister's life. I am the one that always needs to be bailed out of trouble. You could say I've been everywhere even though somehow my feet always find the path back home. My sister has to send her husband, Peter, to pay my way out of several jail cells. Anyone else would leave me to rot.
That was before. Now, my sister has a little boy, and when Johnny got sick, it was like a light in Elise went out. Some sort of wasting sickness. The chubby, mischievous little man who wormed his way into everyone's heart is now a gaunt reminder of what he used to be.
It doesn't take long for me to see the inside of a jail cell. I pass along word to Elise, but the days creep by with no answer.
After 2 weeks, a familiar but angry face makes an appearance.
"You are not worth a hair on Elise's head," he grits out as the bailiff unlocks the cell. Peter is not a man of many words, so even that sentence must have taken a lot of effort.
As I step out, Peter grips my arm. "But worthless or not, you're going to make this right, Claron."
"Get your hands off me," I say.
Peter stalks away.
I chase after him. "What did you mean? Is Johnny okay?"
"Like you care." Peter rolls his eyes. "We have to tell him that his uncle is on a "trip," when the rest of us know exactly what you're doing."
A stab of guilt pierces through me. Things must be really bad if he needs my help.
Peter rubs his eyebrows tiredly with one hand. "Elise apparently has some of your tendencies and went to seek the old man from the mountain."
"Why would she do that?"
"Why else do you think," Peter shouts. "Johnny is on his deathbed and she will do anything to make him better."
I step back, horrified. The old man is said to grant wishes, but no one seeking him has returned.
"I think she gambled her life because she has nothing else to give."
Now I know why Peter paid my bail. Sadly, I am their only chance.
"I'll make this right," I say.
"You better," he says. But it lacks fire.
After packing a bag at the house, I set out in the fields, towards the long, winding path up the mountain.
The hike up the mountain takes hour upon hour, but I keep going. Elise has sacrificed everything for me, and for the first time, the shame overwhelms me.
And there--an opening to a cavern in the side of the mountain.
"Who seeks me?" a gruff voice says.
"Me. Claron." I say.
A man appears from the shadows, stooped with time, white beard almost dragging to the ground, but his blue eyes are as fiercely intelligent as someone a fraction of his age.
"Ah," he says. "The brother."
"Yes," I say. I don't even question how he knows this. "Elise is needed at home." I pause. "I need her."
"You seek penance."
I falter. "Maybe."
"What are you willing to wager?"
"Anything," I say immediately.
"Do you have anything worth a life?"
I don't. I don't have anything but myself and my wits. "Not just a life," I say. "Two lives. Elise and Johnny."
The old man laughs. "For someone who has nothing to give, he demands quite a lot in return."
"What do you want? I am good at finding things, I will do anything."
Any humor quickly fades. "Are you so quick to wager everything?"
Who is this man? Devil or angel? Likely the former, but at this point, I don't care.
"I will," I say.
"Fine," he says. "But because you are asking for two lives, yours is forfeit regardless to replace one."
I stagger back. My life? I expected to wager it, but win it back. But this is my sister and nephew. They deserve the right to live, more than me.
"I agree."
"Answer this riddle successfully and the boy and his mother will leave long and healthy lives," he says. "Who makes it, has no need of it.
Who buys it, has no use for it.
Who uses it can neither see nor feel it.
What is it?"
Riddles. Elise used to say I had a sharp wit and a sharper mind, but I just never put it to good use. I hope she's right. Maybe a house? No. Why wouldn't you ever see it or feel it? Does this have to do with a ghost? My chest starts to cave inwards, and I start feeling dizzy. I'm not going to solve this riddle. I'll be a failure as always. And Peter will have to bury poor Johnny by himself...
My eyes widen. I suddenly know the answer. "A coffin," I say. "A coffin maker is alive, doesn't need it. The person who buys the coffin doesn't use it because it is for someone else. And if someone is dead, they can neither see nor feel it."
The old man smiles. "Well done, Claron. I do believe you will earn your penance one day. Before you start paying back your debt, I will let you see the dear family for which you sacrificed your life one more time."
The deep pool next to him swirls, and I see Peter laughing and crying as he embraces a healthy Johnny and a very much alive and happy Elise.
"Thank you," I breathe.
"Who do you think I am?"
In that moment, I know. "Death," I say.
"Yes, and you will help guide souls to my domain."
For now, I am Charon, the boatman who ferries the dead. This is a worthy job, and yet... and yet. I hope one day to find my way back to the living.