Bertha, arms crossed over her massive breasts, and without batting an eyelash, said, “I have no idea why that is. It must be some sort of anomaly in the spirit-flesh continuum—which will be corrected, I assure you.” She stalked off.
Gloria narrowed her eyes. “I think she knows something she’s not telling.”
“Yeah, but what?” Annabelle asked.
“I don’t know, but Bertha does try to keep things from us. Remember the squirtle incident?” Gloria asked.
Zing laughed. “It was cute! A cross between a squirrel and a turtle.”
“It was a mistake of nature. I wouldn’t call that thing cute,” Annabelle said.
Zing looked back at the monitor. She saw Nell picking up feathers. She was so beautiful. It made Zing’s heart hurt looking at her. It felt like having brain freeze of the heart.
Annabelle put her hand on Zing’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way.”
***
After they finished their shifts, Gloria, Frida, Annabelle, and an ever-anxious Zing, powwowed in Annabelle’s room. Annabelle patted Zing’s hand while they sat on the floor with the papers spread before them.
“I wouldn’t say that Betty was an ideal guardian angel,” Frida said, putting another report on top of the already read pile.
“How come we’ve never heard of Betty before now?” Annabelle asked.
“She was expunged from the records and she worked in Trauma Management not Lesboland,” Gloria said.
“She had a category six rating,” Frida added.
“What does that mean?” Zing asked.
“It means she was an uber rescue angel. She got sent in for the big stuff like floods, fires, hurricanes, and tornadoes,” Frida said.
“You mean like all those people that shouldn’t have survived but did?” Zing asked. Her opinion of Betty was growing ever larger. People thought they became superhuman when they lifted cars off people during times of danger, but they didn’t know it was angels like Betty who actually did the lifting.
“Yep. She was the big stuff,” Gloria said. “Look at this.” She handed Zing a file listing some of Betty’s bigger guardian angel saves.
Zing studied it. Betty had done some truly amazing feats. She had saved a dog during a tornado in Oklahoma City; she had saved a young man during a shooting at Pulse in Orlando; and she had saved a dozen of people during Hurricane Katrina. A very impressive resume.
So why had Betty wanted to leave? Why did she want to be human so badly? Then she got it. Betty had fallen in love just like her.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Frida said, waving a piece of paper over her head. “I’ve got it.”
Zing bounced up and down. “What is it? What is it? Show me.”
“Don’t get your hopes up until we see what she found,” Annabelle said.
“Buzz kill,” Gloria said. “If Frida says she’s got something then she’s got something.”
Frida beamed at Gloria. “I do have something. It’s the something we’ve been looking for.”
“Well, what is it?” Zing asked.
“Betty signed a Contract of Permanent Banishment,” Frida said. She turned the paper around so they could all see it. She pointed to a paragraph. “It says here that she was allowed to keep her human form after performing an act of selfless love, but she had to renounce her rights to being a guardian angel.”
“Yay!” Zing said, springing to her feet. She lifted Annabelle up from the couch and danced around with her. “I’m so, so, so happy! I get to be with Nell!” She danced for a few seconds before she realized that nobody else was dancing with her.
Zing stopped dancing. She looked at Annabelle’s face, then at Frida’s and Gloria’s. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy for me? Isn’t this what we were searching for?”
Annabelle burst into tears and threw herself onto the couch. She stuffed her face in a pillow and sobbed.
Zing stood perplexed. “What’d I do?”
“Does the word ‘banishment’ mean anything to you?” Frida said.
The gravity of the situation draped itself over her like a thick dark cloak. “You mean I’d never get to come back here? Ever?”
“That’s exactly what it means,” Frida said.
Annabelle sobbed harder.
Zing snatched the paper from Frida and studied it. “Never come back,” Zing said trying to process it all. She looked down at the paper and summarized what she read: “I would no longer be able to see any of you— even during an intervention. I would be human. Just like all other humans. I would even die as a human.”
Zing looked up from the paper.
Annabelle threw the pillow at Zing. “We’ve been friends for over one thousand years and now we won’t be.” She sobbed again. “You promised me we’d be together for always.”
Zing picked up the pillow and put it back on the couch. She sat next to Annabelle. “I love you, too.”
Annabelle stood up and whacked Zing in the face with the pillow. “Just not enough.” She marched from the room, the door slamming in her wake.
Zing was puzzled. She looked at Gloria and Frida, helplessly. “I thought she’d be happy for me.”
***
Zing could see the sliver of light coming out from under Bertha’s office door. She tapped softly. And waited. She tapped louder. She wanted it to sound aggressive, but not too aggressive. Maybe a medium aggressive. Bertha was known for getting her hackles up and digging in her heels, so Zing didn’t want to put her on the defensive.
She waited patiently for several long seconds. Then it occurred to her that every second she stood outside Bertha’s office was another second she wasn’t spending with Nell. So, she knocked hard, really hard, and on the third really hard knock, Bertha opened the door and Zing fell into the room. Bertha had graciously stood to one side so Zing could fall flat on her face.
“Somehow I knew it would be you,” Bertha said, closing the door.
Zing got up off the floor. “How’d you know? Because I discovered the secret?” Zing asked harshly.
“Sit down, Zing. Let’s talk about this reasonably. Would you care for a cup of tea?” Bertha didn’t wait for an answer. She poured a cup and handed it to Zing, who had managed to sit down.
“I find chamomile tea soothes the nerves,” Bertha said. She sipped her tea and studied Zing. “Now, tell me what you want to tell me.”
Zing put down her cup and stood. She wagged her finger at Bertha. “I’ll tell you what I want to tell you! Free will! Does that mean anything to you? And why didn’t you tell me I could decide? Why is it such a big secret? Is it because you don’t want all your precious angels becoming human and creating a labor shortage?” Zing was screaming now. All the pent up frustration of the last month came boiling out.
“Sit down, this minute,” Bertha boomed.
She scared Zing so badly she obeyed.
“And drink your tea,” Bertha added.
Zing stared at her.
“All right, you don’t have to drink the tea, but you do have to remain calm—for once in your life. Agreed?”
Zing nodded. She pressed her lips together until they formed a thin line. She couldn’t trust herself to speak. Who knew what would come out?
“To address your accusation that allowing everyone to know about free will would create a labor shortage is rubbish. Complete rubbish! Do you understand me?”
Zing nodded again.
“Not all guardian angels want to be human. In fact, most find the idea detestable. If they wanted to they’d find a way just like you did. Of course, if they did have the desire, they figured out the way using the guardian handbook. Not like you, sneaking around. You should get a severe reprimand for your behavior, but due to the urgency of your case, I’ve decided to let it go.”
Zing got a horrible feeling in her stomach when Bertha said “urgency.” Zing hadn’t checked the monitor recently because she’d been looking for the loophole. “Did I die?” she asked, her voice shaki
ng.
“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. Sh
e 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.”
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