Big Love

by Saxon Bennett

  “Sure,” Nell said. “Do you want to pick the donuts out?”

  “I wouldn’t know what to choose. Surprise me,” Zing said.

  “All right, I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Nell said. She turned and went through the swinging door that led to the back of the shop.

  Zing picked up an old newspaper someone left at the table. “Hmm…” she said as she studied the headlines and saw all the killings, stabbings, and shootings. The world evidently needed more guardian angels.

  Nell returned with her donuts. Zing closed her eyes and inhaled deeply over the box. They smelled delicious. Her mouth began to water in anticipation.

  “I didn’t know what you take in your coffee so I didn’t put anything in it.” Nell handed Zing a cup of black liquid.

  Zing tasted it. “Yikes,” she said. She grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and wiped at her tongue.

  “I’ll get you some cream and sugar,” Nell said.

  Zing picked the tiny pieces of wet napkin off her tongue as she opened the box and stared at the wonderful array of sprinkles, chocolate frosting, and donuts with white stuff and fruit squishing out. They all looked delectable. She decided to start with the ones on the left and work her way to the right. The glazed donut was still warm and she swallowed it in two bites. Next she tried a chocolate one, and then a maple one. By the time Nell returned with her doctored coffee, Zing had eaten six donuts.

  “Whoa, you better slow down on those,” Nell said.

  “Why?” Zing asked, taking the coffee. She tasted it. Much better. She took two gulps to wash down the donuts.

  “Because you’ll get sick.” Nell sat down and shut the lid on the box. “You can take the rest with you for later.”

  “Really? You’d let me do that?”

  “I’m sure guardian angels need to keep their strength up.”

  “True,” Zing said. “Most humans keep their angels on their toes. But you’re more of a. . . low-maintenance type of human. I guess that’s why I took up Hacky Sack while I waited for you to do something worth watching.”

  “I think you just called me boring,” Nell said.

  Before Zing could respond, a voice boomed, “What the hell’s she doing here?” It was Carol. She marched across the room, jabbing a finger in Zing’s direction.

  “I’m having donuts,” Zing said. “And keeping an eye on Nell.”

  “Because you’re her guardian angel,” Carol said, snidely. She had flour on her nose. “That’s still your story?”

  “Yes.”

  Carol rolled her eyes. “You know, here on earth we call that stalking. And it’s illegal.”

  “I have to stick around,” Zing said, sneaking another donut out of the box. “As long as that Dove person is around, so am I.” She looked at the donut and her eyes grew wide. “Ooh, looky. Sprinkles!”

  Carol spread her feet shoulder-width apart and glared at Nell. “I thought you were done with Dove?”

  Before Nell could answer, a buzzer went off in the kitchen. Carol yelled over her shoulder to Tammy, “Hey, make yourself useful and pull those pastries out of the oven!”

  Carol turned back to Nell and put her hands on her hips. “I’m waiting,” she said. “Explain.”

  Nell looked down at her hands. “Dove left me a private message. She wants to meet me. In person.”

  “Again? How many times are you going to fall for that old line?”

  “She promised me this time,” Nell said. “She won’t stand me up again.”

  “That’s what she said the last three times,” Carol said.

  “She must be very busy,” Zing said. She drained her coffee cup. “Can I have some more coffee? I like how it makes me feel peppy.”

  Carol turned and yelled at Tammy, “More coffee over here! Now!” She turned back to Nell and said loudly enough for Tammy to hear, “I swear that girl has lead in her butt.”

  “Carol, please,” Nell said. “Try to be nicer to our employees.”

  Tammy approached with the coffee pot. She glared at Carol as she poured Zing more coffee. “May I have cream and sugar, please?” Zing asked.

  Tammy smiled at Zing. “Sure thing.” She retrieved the condiments, glared at Carol again, who didn’t appear to notice, and went back to the counter to help an elderly couple.

  “I like his shirt,” Zing said, indicating the man’s gaudy Hawaiian shirt. “I like flowers. I should get one of those shirts.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” Carol said.

  “Maybe you could take me shopping?” Zing said to Nell. “Miracle gave me a plastic card and told me to get some things.”

  “That’s insane,” Carol said. She opened Zing’s box of donuts and pulled out a gooey one. It had crème inside. She took a big bite.

  “Miracle says money isn’t worth anything until you spend it. She thinks I’m a good investment in her karma.” Zing watched as Carol took another bite. Now she only had four donuts left.

  “So evidently your friend is just as nutty as you are,” Carol replied with a full mouth.

  Tammy walked toward them, taking off her apron. Carol glanced at the big clock behind the counter. “Your shift’s not up for another fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m quitting,” Tammy said.

  “As of today?” Nell asked. She looked concerned.

  “As of right now,” Tammy said, wadding up her apron. She dropped it at Carol’s feet.

  “You have to give two weeks’ notice,” Carol said.

  “Or what? You’ll give me a bad recommendation? I think my resume can handle it,” Tammy said. She marched away. The bell over the door chimed when she pulled the door open.

  “I don’t think she likes you,” Zing said. She reached over and collected her box of donuts before Carol snagged another one.

  “Ya think?” Carol said, scowling.

  “Yes, I do think,” Zing replied.

  Carol shook her head. “Hard to find good help these days. Those millennials think everything should be handed to them.” She picked up Tammy’s apron. “What are we going to do about getting another counter girl?”

  “You could try being nicer to people,” Nell said.

  “I mean besides that,” Carol said.

  “You could give me a job,” Zing said. “I don’t mind if you’re mean to me. I’m good at ignoring stuff.” She drank the rest of the coffee. “I’d like to be paid in donuts and coffee.”

  “I bet you don’t even have a social security card,” Carol said.

  “Sure I do,” Zing said.

  “Ugh,” Carol said and stalked off.

  “She makes that noise a lot,” Zing said.

  “She’s frustrated,” Nell replied.

  “And she has anger management issues. Cathy is always throwing hints her way, but Carol ignores her.”

  “Cathy?”

  “Her guardian angel.”

  “Carol has one too?”

  “Yes, but she doesn’t believe in her existence. Most people don’t.”

  “Maybe that’s why she’s hostile toward you, because she doesn’t believe in guardian angels,” Nell said.

  “Ya think?” Zing said, trying it out.

  Nell smiled. “I think.”

  Zing smiled back. “What’s a social security number?”

  ***

  “We’re having pizza tonight,” Miracle said as she flipped the disc-shaped piece of dough in the air. The kitchen smelled yeasty like the bakery. “I know we had spaghetti last night, so I apologize for having Italian two nights in a row.”

  “Why?” Zing asked. “Italians eat it every night.”

  Miracle laughed. “That’s true. I like the way you think.” She tossed the pizza dough again. It spun in the air several times before Miracle caught it. Zing thought making pizza looked like fun.

  “Sometimes you just have to say ‘What the hell.’ That’s my motto,” Miracle said.

  “I don’t think that’s a good thing to say. It’ll make Annabelle nervous and put her on high
alert.”

  “What can happen? I’m only making pizza.”

  Zing wished she wouldn’t say that. Humans’ faith in their own abilities often exceeded their skills—and that’s when accidents happened.

  “Do you want to try throwing the dough?” Miracle asked. She stopped twirling and handed the floppy disk-shaped dough to Zing.

  Zing took the dough in her hands. It felt tacky and pliable. “What do I do?”

  “You throw it,” Miracle said. “Spin and throw.”

  Zing pirouetted and threw. The dough hit Miracle in the face.

  Miracle pulled the dough off her face. “I guess I should’ve been more specific. Let me roll it out again. I’ll show you exactly what to do.”

  “Okay,” Zing said. She leaned over Miracle’s shoulder and watched as she turned the blob of dough back into a flattened circle.

  “So, you do it like this,” Miracle said, pulling her fingers apart and twirling the dough and throwing it up in the air. She caught the dough and handed it over to Zing, saying, “Now, you try.”

  Zing imitated her and soon the dough was spinning in her hands.

  “Good, now throw it up in the air, as high as you can, and twirl it again when it comes down,” Miracle instructed.

  Zing twirled and threw the dough high as she could, but . . . It didn’t come down. It was stuck to the ceiling.

  Both women stood still, heads tilted back, staring at the disc of dough plastered to the ceiling.

  “When I said throw it as high as you can, I didn’t mean literally as high as you can,” Miracle said.

  “Oh,” Zing said. “I’ve noticed that humans don’t say what they mean. And sometimes they mean what they don’t say. Don’t they ever say what they mean or mean what they say?”

  “A very brilliant writer and philosopher once wrote about that very subject. His name was Dr. Seuss.”

  There was a long silence as they stared at the dough.

  “It’s very sticky, isn’t it?” Zing said.

  “Not enough flour,” Miracle said.

  “I’ll get it off the ceiling,” Zing said. She pulled out a kitchen chair, placed it under the dough and climbed on top. She reached as high as she could but still fell a good three feet short. She jumped off the stool. “The ceiling’s too high and I’m too short.”

  “Why don’t you just fly up there and get it?” Miracle asked.

  “I’m not that kind of an angel,” Zing said.

  “Oh, I’ll get it.” Miracle pulled out a stool that she’d been using as a plant stand and propped that on top of the chair. “You just hold the stool steady while I climb on top of it.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Zing said.

  “I’ll be fine,” Miracle said. She stared up at the ceiling. “But we’re going to need something to scrape it off.” She squeezed one eye shut.

  “Is there something wrong with your eye?”

  “No. I’m thinking. I close one eye because it helps me think. Oh, I know,” she said, and raced out of the kitchen.

  Evidently, one-eyed thinking worked. Zing would have to try it next time she needed to think. Miracle returned with a snow shovel. “I’ll scrape it off with this. Easy-peasy,” Miracle said.

  Zing considered the easy-peasy of the situation as Miracle climbed up the rung of the stool armed with a snow shovel. She stood on top of the stool which stood on top of the kitchen chair.

  “Here we go,” Miracle said, positioning the snow shovel so it could scrape the sticky dough. She got the dough off with one quick scoop—a good thing in theory. The bad thing was that Miracle scooped so hard that it thrust her off the stool, which toppled off the chair.

  Miracle hit the floor the same time as the stool. And then it seemed as if everything moved in slow-mo. The shovel arced high in the air, then spun, and began its downward descent. The tip of the shovel was aimed right for Miracle’s exposed neck.

  Zing used her superior angel reflexes to quickly reach out and grab the shovel by its handle. She stopped the shovel when it was a mere two millimeters from Miracle’s throat.

  Miracle gulped.

  Zing pulled the shovel away and gently set it on the table.

  “Wow,” Miracle muttered, slowly climbing to her feet. “I almost pulled an Anne Boleyn.” She looked at Zing. “You saved my life.”

  Zing’s face was ashen. She began to tremble and shake.

  “Are you okay, honey?” Miracle asked.

  Zing turned and ran from the room.

  ***

  Zing threw herself down on the bed, wailing, “What have I done?” She snatched up the The Guardian Angel’s Handbook from the nightstand and frantically paged through it, looking for a section that explained what happened when a guardian angel overstepped the boundaries of another guardian angel. Had Miracle’s time come—was she intended to die, decapitated by a snow shovel while removing pizza dough from the ceiling, dough that Zing had thrown up there? Was the entire universe going to wobble and fall because Zing had altered it by saving Miracle’s life? Was that possible?

  Zing couldn’t find anything in the book that even remotely addressed what had happened. She was on her own. She wailed into her pillow, cursed herself, and beat the pillow with her fists. She wondered if this was what keening felt like. She’d seen people do it but never experienced it herself. There were so many things she hadn’t experienced until now: donuts, flowers, sunsets, baths, shopping, and she had so much more left to experience. And now she’d never get to do those things and it was all her fault. But she couldn’t have let Miracle cut her own head off!

  Someone tapped Zing on the shoulder. Zing looked up from her pillow. Annabelle sat on the edge of the bed. Zing fell into her arms. “I’ve done it now. Haven’t I? Bertha’s going to kill me and the universe will be thrown into complete chaos because of me.”

  “Technically, Bertha can’t kill a guardian angel, but you will most likely be grounded for the next thousand years,” Annabelle said.

  “Is that possible?” Zing asked.

  “I don’t know. But this isn’t as bad as you think,” Annabelle said.

  “Really?” Zing wiped her snot and tears on her sleeve.

  “You’re supposed to use a Kleenex. You don’t want to ruin your pretty new shirt.”

  “You like it?” Zing brightened looking at her shirt. She’d gotten it at the thrift store. Zing figured she should go thrifty because she was spending Miracle’s money, not her own. The store had racks of silky Hawaiian shirts and they were five shirts for three dollars. Zing couldn’t believe how cheap they were. She bought five, of course.

  “I like it very much,” Annabelle said. She ran her fingers over the hem. “It’s so soft.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Let me get you a Kleenex.” Annabelle went to the adjoining bathroom. “Have you taken a bath yet?” she called out.

  “Yes, they have these bath salt things that make the water smell nice, like flowers.”

  Annabelle returned with a box of tissue. She handed them to Zing, who wiped her eyes and blew her nose. It suddenly occurred to Zing that she was blowing stuff out of her head and through her nose and she didn’t know what was coming out. She opened the tissue to peek, but Annabelle stopped her, saying, “Don’t look. You don’t want to know what’s in there.”

  “It’s so weird having a body,” Zing said. She tossed the tissue into the waste can. “All kinds of weird stuff comes out of it.”

  “I bet.”

  There was a knock on the door. Miracle’s voice asked, “Zing, are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m talking to my friend.”

  “A friend?” Pause. “Is she an angel, too?” Miracle asked.

  “Yes. In fact, she’s your guardian angel,” Zing said before Annabelle had a chance to stop her. Annabelle made slashing motions across her neck with her hand.

  “Can I meet her?” Miracle asked.

  Annabelle shook her head vigorously.


  “Um, she says not right now. It’s kind of against the rules.”

  “Okay,” Miracle said, sounding dejected. “I’ll start cooking the pizza. Come out when you’re ready.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Miracle’s footsteps padded back down the hallway. Zing sighed heavily and said, “Why are you so much smarter than me about humans?”

  “I’ve paid attention. The human race is very interesting,” Annabelle said. “Like a giant soap opera.”

  “I thought I paid attention,” Zing said.

  “You stopped paying attention quite a while ago.”

  “It’s my ADD.”

  Annabelle laughed. “I think you got bored because of Nell’s lack of adventure.”

  “I shouldn’t have spent so much time playing Hacky Sack,” Zing added.

  “Well, there was that. And messing up the Zen garden.”

  “And getting chased by rakes.”

  “And putting kale in the water jugs.”

  “You have to admit that was pretty funny,” Zing said, chuckling.

  “But the point is that you weren’t learning how the world works.”

  “True dat,” Zing said.

  “Dat?”

  “It’s how cool people talk,” Zing said. She held out her fist. “Here, bump your fist with mine. Cool people do that. It’s called fisting.”

  “Um. . . That’s not what fisting means.”

  “Oh? What’s it mean?”

  “Never mind.” Annabelle fist bumped her then she said, “I think we need to get back to your problem. Now, I’ve read the book and it doesn’t have one reference to what just happened.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Here’s my take on it. You didn’t rescue Miracle from being beheaded—”

  “I most certainly did. If I hadn’t caught her, her head would be rolling around on the floor like a bowling ball,” Zing said, furrowing her brow.

  “Don’t furrow. You’ll get wrinkles in your forehead.”

  Zing huffed. “There sure are a lot of things you shouldn’t do when you have a body.”

  “Yeah, well get used to it. Okay, so you did save Miracle, but you did it as a human not as a guardian angel.”

  “Oh, I see where you’re going with this! It won’t even be on the books, right?”