Big Love (22 page)

“Not yet. Having your body hanging on is gaining interest in the medical community, which means we need to do damage control and soon.” Bertha sipped her tea.

“Damage control?”

“Something needs to happen. You either need to die or resume,” Bertha said.

Did she say resume? Zing thought. Then suspicion set in. It seemed too easy and Bertha never made anything easy. It was against her nature. She wouldn’t just let Zing have what she wanted and be happy. Zing narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t guardian angels want to be human?”

“Because being human is a big step. It’s harder than you think, and once the decision is made there is no turning back—ever. You will suffer all the pain, heartache, sickness, mortality, etcetera that is part of being human.”

“I know all that,” Zing said.

“I’ve drawn up the Contract of Banishment,” Bertha said, picking up a file from the desk. It was a thick file.

“Is that my file?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why’s it so thick?”

“Your antics as a guardian have been well documented.”

“I’m a bad guardian angel,” Zing said. She felt remorse.

“Pretty much. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a guardian.” Bertha studied her. “You really love Nell Parker?”

“I do. I can’t live without her. I would be a troublesome, miserable, perhaps even a psychotic guardian angel, if I was forced to live without her.” Zing mustered up the saddest face she could.

“All right then. But I want you to sleep on this,” Bertha said.

Zing set down her tea cup and shook her head decisively. “I’ll sign it now. I won’t change my mind.”

“I didn’t suppose you would,” Bertha said with an exasperated sigh. She slid the Contract of Banishment across her desk and handed Zing a pen.

***

Zing went back to Annabelle’s room after she’d run around the gardens leaping and whooping. She had to get it out of her system before she broke the news to Annabelle. She knocked on Annabelle’s door.

Annabelle opened the door, saw Zing, and burst into fresh tears. Misery must be contagious, Zing thought, as she began crying.

They held each other for a very long time.

Annabelle spoke first. “I know you have to go, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be sad.” She pulled away and sniffed.

“I know. The only thing that would make this the happiest day of my life would be if you were there with me.”

They stared at each other. The idea sat huge between them.

“I can’t,” Annabelle said, turning away.

“Why not? It’d be perfect,” Zing pleaded, taking her hands. “We could be human best friends and spend the rest of our lives as BFFs.” She swung them around the room in a waltz. “You, me, Nell, Carol, and Miracle. You could actually see Miracle, have coffee with her, eat ice cream with her, and ride roller coasters. It’s so much fun!”

Annabelle looked away. “I can’t, Zing.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to be human.”

“What?”

“My life is one of service. I am a guardian angel. I want to be one. I love being one. Nothing could take the place of that.”

“Oh,” Zing said. She sat on the couch. Her head was spinning. It was like Bertha said, not everyone wanted to be human—only guardians like her and Betty. There were more, she was certain. But there were even more that loved their life of service and wanted to be angels.

“I know it doesn’t make sense to you,” Annabelle said softly.

“No, it does. I wasn’t cut out for this like you. I know that now.”

Annabelle sat next to her and took Zing’s face in her hands. “I want you to be happy. You couldn’t stay now even if you wanted to. You’d be forever haunted by the ‘what could have been.’ You know what being a guardian angel is like, now you can move on and be a human and experience all those things.”

“But I have to lose you in order to do it,” Zing said glumly. Why did the universe open one door while closing another?

Annabelle suddenly popped up. “We have to have a party.”

“A party?”

“Your going away party, silly.”

“I think I’d rather slink off. Goodbyes are awkward.”

“You can’t do that. If you don’t want me to be angry with you for the next one thousand and four years you’d better let me throw you a party.”

***

Bertha stood back and watched the party. She was scowling and muttering under her breath.

“Bertha really hates me,” Zing said.

Annabelle filled her cup with fruit punch. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Bertha, despite her iron lady façade, is a mush bag. She’s going to miss you, but she doesn’t like to admit it.”

“Bertha won’t miss me. I’ve always been a thorn in her side.”

“That’s exactly what she’ll miss. Now, perk up. We’ve got to get this party rolling. Nell needs you and you’ve got to stop being the unconscious medical miracle.”

Frida and Gloria had manifested Zing’s human likeness in the form of a cake. Zing liked cake. Even though she thought it was going to be weird to eat herself.

Ito, the gardener, approached Zing. She was holding a rake with a big red ribbon wrapped around the handle. “I will not say I will miss you. But I thought you should have this as a memento of our long acquaintance.” She handed Zing the rake.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Zing said. “I’ll always think of you every time I see a Zen garden.”

“I would like you to promise me something,” Ito said.

Zing sighed. “I promise not to walk through any more sand gardens.”

Ito bowed and then said. “Also, I would like your eyeball.”

“My eyeball?”

Ito pointed to the cake.

“Oh, that eyeball,” Zing said, relieved. “Sure, go for it.”

Bertha drew Zing aside. “I want you to promise me to be well-behaved and discreet about your past. Don’t tell anybody about HQ or our secrets. Especially about our library.”

Zing’s eyes lit up. They had a huge library at HQ. And contrary to human belief, it wasn’t filled with all the books ever written. No, quite the opposite. It was filled with all the books that were yet to be written.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Zing said. “You know how much money I could make? I could be rich.”

Bertha scowled. “Don’t make me come down there.”

Zing giggled. There, now she could leave knowing that Bertha was still Bertha.

“Let them eat cake!” Annabelle said, cutting the first piece and handing it to Zing.

Chapter Sixteen

“Why is she holding a rake?” Carol said as she walked into the hospital room.

“I don’t know. I went to get a cup of coffee and when I returned she was holding it,” Nell said.

“Is this a joke?” Carol asked. She peered down at Zing who looked peaceful holding the rake.

Zing sat up with a jolt and the rake handle smacked Carol right in the nose. “Damn it all, Zing,” Carol yelled, clutching her nose as blood poured out of it. Nell quickly punched a button, summoning the nurse.

Zing dropped the rake on the floor beside the bed. This was not the homecoming she had envisioned. She’d planned to wake up and gaze over at Nell who would look upon her arrival with cries of delight. She hadn’t thought about the rake. She didn’t leave it behind because that would’ve hurt Ito’s feelings.

Nell stood looking at Zing as if she were an apparition. Then she leapt at her, taking her in her arms. She squeezed Zing hard.

“Ouch!” Zing’s ribs hurt. So did her cheek and the hand that was bandaged. Pain was highly unpleasant. And this was so much bigger than a stubbed toe. Why hadn’t she been warned that pain was so… painful?

“Sorry,” Nell said. She planted little popcorn kisses all over Zing’s face, saying, “I just knew you’d come back. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.”

The nurse arrived and handed Carol a towel to press against her bleeding nose. “Sit down. I’ll go get the doctor.”

“It’s not that bad,” Carol said, pulling the towel away and looking at it. She touched her nose and winced. “Or maybe it is.”

“I’m not getting the doctor for you,” the nurse said. She pointed at Zing. “The doctor’s for her. She came out of a coma; you just have a nosebleed.”

“One helluva of nosebleed, I might add,” Carol groused.

The nurse left.

“Where’d you go? Back to HQ? What’s it like in a coma? How did you get back?” Nell asked.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Zing said. She gazed lovingly at Nell.

“I don’t care how you got back. Just that you did,” Nell said. Suddenly, her eyes widened. “This isn’t another furlough is it? You don’t have to go back in thirty days?”

“No, this is the real thing,” Zing said. She kissed Nell.

“Get a room,” Carol said.

Zing stopped the kiss and looked at Carol. “Sorry about your nose.”

Carol shrugged. “Aw, it’s all right. I’m just glad you’re back. I may have missed you, but I won’t know for certain until you’ve been back a couple of days. Then I can decide.”

“Carol!” Nell scolded.

“I was kidding,” Carol said. “I really missed you—everyone did.” She pointed at all the flowers around the room and two balloons that bobbed up and down against the ceiling.

“Can I see the balloons?” Zing asked.

“Sure,” Carol said. She pulled them down from the ceiling and handed the strings to Zing. Both balloons both read “Get Well Soon.”

“That’s so sweet,” Zing said, untying the closure on one of them. She sucked in the helium.

At that moment, Dr. Randall entered. “Look who woke up. How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I feel great,” Zing said in a falsetto helium voice.

Dr. Randall looked alarmed. “My God! Your voice has shrunk.”

Zing laughed like a chipmunk and showed the doctor the balloon. “It’s the helium.”

Dr. Randall chuckled.

“I always wanted to try that,” Zing said. She took another hit of helium.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” Dr. Randall said.

Carol snatched the balloons away.

“Party pooper,” Zing squeaked.

“The doctor’s right, Zing,” Nell said. She grabbed a balloon from Carol. She took a hit of helium and squeaked, “I love you.”

Zing giggled.

“I need to check you over,” Dr. Randall said. “Coming out of a coma is serious stuff.” She walked toward Zing while unwinding the stethoscope from around her neck. She took one step and—
Whammo!
—the rake catapulted itself upward. Its pointy tines were only an inch from the doctor’s face when Zing grabbed it and stopped the rake from puncturing the doctor between the eyes.

Everybody looked at Zing, shocked.

Zing only shrugged and said, “I have quick reflexes.”

“I’ll say,” Dr. Randall said in a shaky voice.

Nell took the rake and set it in far corner. “I’m sorry. Sorry about that, doctor.”

“So, you brought her a rake?” Dr. Randall asked.

“No, Zing brought it with her when she came out of the coma,” Nell said.

“Brought it with her?” Dr. Randall asked.

“It was a gift from Ito, the head gardener,” Zing said.

“Transported from Guardian Angel Land?” Dr. Randall asked.

“Yes,” Zing said. She pulled the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’d like to go home now.”

“I have a better idea,” Dr. Randall said.

“Really?” Zing asked.

“Yes. I need to give you a full exam to make sure you’re all right,” Dr. Randall said.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Zing said, “I wasn’t hurt other than the scrapes. I was just attending to other business, that’s why I was gone for a little.”

“Well, humor me for a quick exam then,” Dr. Randall said. She listened to Zing’s heart, checked her pupils, asked her what day it was, and who the president was.

“I don’t know who the president is,” Zing said. “Guardian angels aren’t really interested in politics unless it’s absolutely necessary—at least I wasn’t. My friend, Annabelle, could tell you.” Zing sniffed. “I miss her already.”

“You can still visit with each other,” Nell said. She saw Zing’s distraught face. “Right?”

Zing shook her head. “I had to sign a Contract of Banishment. I can’t ever go back and I can’t have any contact with the other angels. That was the deal.”

“Oh, Zing, you did that for me?”

“Well, of course she did,” Carol snapped.

Dr. Randall stopped her examination. “You renounced everything for the sake of love?”

“I did,” Zing said. “Now unhook me so I can get on with loving this woman.”

Suddenly, the door opened and Miracle flew into the room. “You’re back!” She jumped up and down. She kissed Zing’s forehead, raced around the room, scooped Carol up, and swung her around. “Didn’t I tell you love conquers all?”

Dr. Randall smiled and ticked off the last box on Zing’s chart. “Looks like you’re healthy. You’re free to go. After you do a bunch of paperwork at the front desk.”

“No way,” Zing said. “I hate paperwork.”

“Welcome to officially being human,” Dr. Randall said, walking out of the room.

Nell watched as Miracle lightly kissed Carol’s boo-boo nose. Nell turned to Zing and whispered, “We get to be together forever, right?”

Zing nodded. “Yep. And forever starts right now.”

They kissed.

The End

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More Than a Kiss:

Jordan Falls Out a Window

This story takes place in the lovely state of Oregon in the city of green, politically enlightened hipsters who love coffee, trees, and have the most amazing system of bike trails. I am describing Portland, of course. There’s music and museums and a humongous book store and the ocean is nearby. It is April, the star of spring, the season of love. Very little of this has anything to do with the story, but I wanted to let you know that it is a good travel destination especially in the spring. (And the bureau of tourism paid me for this advertisement.) The people in this story like Portland and liking where you live makes for happy people. However, the people in this story are not too happy because they are still looking for love. And their errant search for love is the point of this tale.

Disclaimer: No trees were harmed during the making of this book.

Meet Jordan March
. Jordan lived in the Piedmont historic district in an old Victorian house four stories tall that had belonged to her grandmother. Jordan was an artist at heart. Unfortunately her heart couldn't pay the electric bill or buy groceries, so she labored as a writer and illustrator of children’s books. She had three children’s books available to buy on Amazon. These books had mostly good reviews. However, her sales numbers did not reflect the mostly 4 and 5 star ratings. Her books kept getting edged out by her competitors, Jamie Leigh Curtis and John Lithgow. She has a tendency to get upset over that, so it's best not to mention it.

Jordan was a sapphist. She was also lonely. She hadn't had a girlfriend for a year. And she had talked herself into thinking she liked it that way. You see, Jordan didn't know she was lonely. She thought she was in a slump. Two slumps actually - a creative slump and a sexual slump. Jordan had a theory that stated that creative juices and sexual juices flowed from the same fount. If one dried up, so did the other. She hadn't written or drawn anything decent in 276 days. She hadn't been laid in 277 days. You can see how she came up with her theory.

Jordan’s greatest fear was that she wasn’t a great artist. That the bright flame of artistic passion she felt burning in her breast was actually only heartburn from all the coffee she drank.

At the beginning of this story, Jordan was sitting in her attic studio, bent over her drawing easel with chalk smudged across her forehead and oil paint spattered on her arms. She was surrounded by paint cans, piles of raw lumber and stacks of drywall because her crumbling Victorian house was in the throes of remodeling.

Jordan was drawing and muttering to herself about Jamie Leigh Curtis and Activa commercials when a remote control car careened around a corner, balancing on only two wheels. It flipped over twice and miraculously ended up on all four wheels. It sped off again, hitting maximum speed within a few feet and popped a wheelie without slowing down. It hit a bump, skyrocketed in the air, performed a slow-motion somersault and landed upright in just enough time to crash into a wall.

Mr. Pip jumped to his feet and shrieked. He arched his back. His tail went rigid. He bared his fangs and hissed. The little remote control car backed up, slowly turned to face Mr. Pip and accelerated. The cat screeched and leapt onto the drawing table, knocking over a glass of iced tea.

Jordan jumped to her feet as the tea splashed all over her lap. “Dammit!” She grabbed the nearest book, a dog-eared, yellowed paperback copy of
Moby Dick
, and threw it at the speeding car. She had not been reading
Moby Dick
. But she had tried to read it several times over the years. She had even gotten so far as the chapter on A Bosom Friend, but couldn't make it any further. Not one to give up though, Jordan kept the book on her to-read pile right next to her easel on top of the copy of
Catch-22
that she couldn't get through either.

So, Jordan threw
Moby Dick
at the car but only succeeded in taking out another hunk of crumbling drywall. In the space of three seconds, the car had attacked the cat and the cat had attacked the tea and the tea had attacked Jordan's lap and now Jordan was attacking the car.

Jordan yelled, “Edison! I'm trying to work up here!”

Sorry!” Edison yelled to Jordan. “I’m trying to fix it!”

Meet Edison Burnett
. Edison was short and rather plain looking, but not without her charms. As the French are wont to say, she had a certain
je ne sais quoi
. Edison tried to overshadow her plainness by dressing and behaving oddly. She was under the mistaken impression that the stranger she was, the more people would love her - like how people with lousy comic timing think that the louder they say the punch line the funnier it is.

Edison was Jordan's ex-lover and still-roommate. Actually, classifying her as an ex-lover would be overstating the case. Edison and Jordan had only had sex once and Jordan didn't remember much about it as they had spent the evening sampling what was left in her grandmother’s abundant wine cellar. Despite the wine and the drunken sex, Jordan and Edison remained best friends.

At this point in the story, Edison was sitting in her bedroom, two floors below Jordan's attic studio. She sat in a rolling office chair in the middle of her dark laboratory wearing a pair of sunglasses that weren't really sunglasses. They only looked like the type of mirrored sunglasses that cops always wore in the movies. They were actually monitor screens. Edison held a remote control in her hands and was moving the little joystick in tiny circles with her thumb. Edison had invented a remote control that you could control from a distance of up to one mile. By installing a teeny tiny camera on the front of the remote control car, she could see from the car's point of view on the monitor in her sunglasses.

Edison had invented dozens of things. All of which were abject failures with the exception of sex toys. Edison was quite well-known in lesbian circles as the mother of sex toys. She thought this invention may be her best one to date. And if she could just fix the glitch that made the camera see things in reverse--left was right, right was left and sometimes up was down and vice versa - then she could patent her invention. Edison was ironing out the bugs on the long-distance remote on the car. If she could master the car, then she was going to up the ante and use it on a vibrator by connecting the glasses to the fiber optic network to the gadget itself. She could then market the item to long-distance couples. That way a lesbian could sit in her hotel in Paris and make love to her partner in Omaha.