“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.