No more and no less

- short fiction on sin #4 -

“I’ll give you twenty minutes,” he said.

Gabriel the Archangel looked nothing like Madelyn expected. His faded jeans were a bit on the tight side and his leather jacket was outdated – the old baggy style from the 80s. His outfit, though, didn’t decrease how intimidated she felt. He stood at over 7 feet tall and seemed to have a propensity for chains.

“Twenty minutes,” he said. “You know how long that is, don’t you? You’re a writer. It’s about as long as it takes to write 800 words.”

With a lot of practice, she thought wryly.

“What am I supposed to do again?” Madelyn asked.

The whole death thing had been a blur. One minute she was in traffic, shouting at the driver ahead of her, then everything went fuzzy and all of a sudden she was looking at herself through the windshield. She watched herself clutch her left arm, the car swerve and she found herself stuck in a grey fuzzy cloud.

Until Gabriel walked out from the shadows and the air cleared for a bit.

“You’re getting a great opportunity here, Maddy. Don’t blow it. Most people would kill to spend twenty minutes at their own funeral. You’re getting that for free. The Big Lady seems to think you deserve a second chance. Listen in … figure out what sin you really need forgiveness for … and she might be feeling good enough today to let you into the land of milk and honey. Ice cream. Chocolate. Neck massages. Body wraps and all those good things.”

Gabriel raised one hairy eyebrow at her. He looked annoyed. “Go!” he said.

Madelyn found herself in a well-lit room with green thick carpets illuminated by yellow light from dusty chandeliers. At least they followed her wishes. They buried her back in Edmonton, where she had grown up.

Ahh, she liked this feeling. Being able to breeze in and out of conversations without having to partake in the small talk. At the entrance sat her two great-nephews. For some reason, there were blown-up copies of the covers of her latest books right propped up on an easel beside the guest book. Probably the work of her agent. Trying to get some sales upon the occasion of her death. Joan was good at what she did. Madelyn wasn’t going to begrudge her for it.

She looked for Joan. There she was, in the far corner, talking to her accountant, Sam.

“Ah, well, at least she didn’t suffer. I think it’s always worse when they suffer,” Joan was saying.

Hmmm! Joan actually cared about her.

Sam chuckled. “It definitely could have been worse for Madelyn. She would have gone crazy if she had to lie in the hospital for days before she met her end.” Madelyn smiled. Sam knew her well. “She’d be hating how much the hospital would charge her for each little thing. It would drive her nuts, knowing that she was spending 25 dollars a day just to get a phone in her room,” Sam said.

Madelyn’s smile straightened. What was he saying? That her suffering would be coming from the money she spent?

Joan didn’t laugh. “Ah, come on Sam. You know what her childhood was like. Not to mention the first forty-five years of her life before she published her first book. She just stayed true to who she was, that’s all.”

Thank you, Joan, Madelyn thought. That’s it exactly. Just because she hit bigtime with her series of books – not to mention the film and action figures – was she supposed to become some big spender freewheeler. No way. She promised herself she wouldn’t die a bag lady, and she didn’t.

Madelyn wisped away. Sam was her accountant, not someone personal. She looked for nieces and nephews. She wanted to hear what they had to say. There they were, over by the buffet. Buffet?? Who the hell authorized a buffet?

The twins and their younger brother, Mark were chatting now. Laughing. It was good to see them laughing. She was starting to feel scared, she still hadn’t figured out her sin.

“Ah, Auntie Mads … she was a riot,” Janice was saying, a big grin on her face. “You know, Frank figured it out. We noticed the kids’ Christmas gifts – always money of course – would increase every year, but by strange amounts. Seven dollars here, two dollars there – one time, the cheque increased by eleven dollars and two cents. Then, Frank realized she was increasing it by the inflation rate!”

“What?” Mark responded. “Even after the movies got released?”

“Oh yeah.” It was Jocelyn speaking now. “I’ve watched her. When she gives tips, she calculates it exactly. No more and no less than what would be expected. And, if she’s not happy with the service – she has no qualms about saying nada.”

Madelyn narrowed her eyes. This couldn’t be a sin, could it? She was just good with her money.

“Well,” Mark sighed. “It’s not like she wasn’t stingy. I mean, she sponsored that foster child and everything.”

Jocelyn paused. “I know … but remember when Uncle Tim needed some money because of the economic crisis in 2008?”

“Oh yeah,” Janice jumped in, finishing her twin’s thought. “He had worked for the car company, got laid off, and he got a severance package. It was enough to cover the mortgage payments but not enough to pay for Patrick’s university. Naturally he asked Auntie Mads for a loan. Just enough so Patrick could finish school, right?” “

Exactly. And she said no. Told Uncle Tim that he should have thought of that when he decided to drop out of school twenty years ago.”

Mark whistled. “She’s a tough cookie, that one.”

That’s right, I’m tough, Madelyn thought. I worked hard for my money, and why should I share it with those who just want it?

All of a sudden, she found herself in a haze of grey. “Hey!” she shouted. “What the heck … I had at least two minutes left,” she complained. It wasn't true, but who was counting?

“Tchh, tcch… “ Gabriel emerged from the smoke, a disappointed look on his face.

“You can’t be serious, can you? You’re going to send me to hell for saving money? It’s what we all do,” Madelyn found her ears growing hot. “Not to mention, you cut me short … I need more time. ”

Gabriel shook his head, the four chains around his neck clanking a little as he did so. “I don’t think so. We’re just giving you the same conditions that you gave others to operate under. We thought it only fair,” he nodded, as if contemplating his reasoning once more.

Madelyn’s thoughts began to race. “But – that’s not a mortal sin. Saving money is not a mortal sin.”

Gabriel looked downcast. “I told her you’d say that. I don’t like to be right. She doesn’t like it when I’m right. She feels like she’s out of touch with you all.” He lifted one of the chains from around his neck and bent down to fasten it around Madelyn’s legs.

“Hey – you could at least tell me why, what – why?” Madelyn’s voice almost broke.

“You’re a smart woman, Madelyn. It’s such a shame. You’re forgetting that there’s worse things than just keeping money to yourself.” Madelyn watched as he lifted a second chain from around his neck and twisted it around her wrists.

Of course, she thought. I kept everything for myself – not just money, but kind thoughts, forgiveness, a little bit of slack. But I couldn’t be generous with everything could I? You give someone a little bit of room, and they'll take advantage of you. There was no room for kind thoughts, or the benefit of the doubt, was there? I wouldn’t have survived on earth otherwise. These damn angels – they know nothing about the real world. It wasn’t my fault.

“There you go again, Mads.” Gabriel continued, shaking his head as he led her towards a lady in black who seemed to emerge out of the shadows ahead. “Saving everything, even the excuses, for yourself.”