Big Love (6 page)

They went back to the living room and sat on the couch with their ice cream. Suddenly, Miracle jumped to her feet. “I almost forgot the most important part.”

“What?”

“The sad movie.” Miracle opened the doors on the cabinet the TV sat on.

“Wow. That’s a lot of movies,” Zing said.

Miracle put a DVD into the player. “Prepare to cry,” she warned.

Zing watched the movie and ate her ice cream slowly. She’d learned her lesson from the brain freeze. From the corner of her eye, Zing saw Miracle drip ice cream onto her pajama top. “You spilled on your clothes.”

“It’s okay,” Miracle said. “It just adds to the authenticity of my Sad Girl character.”

Zing looked down at her brand-new pajamas. She didn’t want stains on them.

Miracle intuited what Zing was thinking. “You don’t have to spill on yours if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you. Have you had a lot of experience being heartbroken?” Zing asked.

Miracle nodded. “My love life hasn’t been going well.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Zing asked. She tilted her head and lightly touched Miracle’s arm.

“I’m okay,” Miracle said. “But thanks anyway.”

They went back to watching the movie. Miracle sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. Zing found it baffling that anyone would watch something that made them sad when they were already sad. Shouldn’t they watch something that would make them happy?

Miracle paused the movie during the scene where the Debra Winger character was lying in a hospital bed, saying goodbye to her children. She looked at Zing and blubbered, “It was an accident.”

“What was an accident?”

“I accidentally fell in love with the wrong woman, and if it hadn’t been for a stupid parking ticket it never would’ve happened.”

“Parking ticket?”

“Rita was a meter maid. It was her name that hooked me. There’s a Beatle’s song that had Rita the Meter Maid in it. So I was destined to fall for her simply because I adore the Beatles—ever since I was little. My mother used to play them all the time so they are a large part of my memory of her.” Miracle paused. She seemed lost in thought. “I loved her so much.”

“Rita or your mother?”

“Both.”

“But you said Giselle, the yoga lady, broke your heart.”

“That was after Rita. Giselle was not the love of my life—not like Rita. It was Rita who did the real damage. Giselle was just a selfish bitch who wore yoga pants twenty four hours a day.”

“Oh.”

“Rita broke my heart in a different way. She still wrote me a ticket, which should’ve been a red flag right there, but she had such a dazzlin’ smile I didn’t even notice when they towed my car away. We went to lunch and next thing I knew I was smitten. It’s that women-in-uniform thing. Lesbians go gaga for uniforms and I fell for it too. I’d spend the night at her place just to watch her get dressed in the morning so I could see that glorious uniform.” Miracle sighed deeply.

Zing waited patiently while Miracle snuffled and wiped her eyes. Miracle collected herself and continued, “It was bound to happen. We were so different. She was a city employee with government concerns. She was a democrat and I’m apolitical. She didn’t think I had a legitimate job and that I was a drain on society.” Miracle’s face reddened and she balled up her hands into tight fists.

Zing recognized this as anger. “Are you...I mean, do you… what about money?” Zing didn’t know how to inquire about this employment thing. She knew it was a touchy subject and she didn’t want Miracle’s anger directed at her.

“You mean what do I do for a job?” Miracle asked. She didn’t squint her eyes at Zing. That was a good sign.

“Yes. That’s what I meant.”

“I’m a feminist poet. I write very women-centered poems that address the sensual nature of woman-ness capturing the woman in the woman while she’s in the grip of being a woman.”

“That’s sounds extremely important.”

“It is, but Rita thought my work wasn’t an addition to the nation’s GNP.”

“What’s that?”

“Gross National Product.”

“Oh, I see,” Zing said, even though she didn’t see at all.

“But I stayed with her because we were perfect in bed together, and to me that counts for a lot. Then there was the uniform, of course. We were the perfect couple as long as we didn’t talk about politics, the GNP, books, religion, sports, food, or foreign policy, etcetera.”

Zing wondered what was left to talk about. Miracle began sobbing. Zing handed her a second box of Kleenex. Miracle had used up the first box. Between the movie and the story of Rita, they had a mountain of balled-up tissue on the coffee table.

“I truly thought we were going to make it last. We would’ve been like all those couples who are seniors and have been together for their whole lives. She would’ve retired from civil service and we would’ve toured the country in an RV and gone to women’s music festivals and craft shows. Who knows, I might have opened up my own booth and sold little crocheted owls or something cute like that.”

“That would’ve have been very nice,” Zing said. She’d like to do that too. It sounded fun. Maybe she could see all the national parks and get one of those park passport books and collect all the stamps from all the different parks. She’d heard of other humans who did that.

Miracle interrupted her reverie by saying, “But Rita did the wrong thing at the wrong time and suddenly it was over. Poof! She was gone.”

“What happened?” Zing asked, her eyes wide.

“She saw a man ripping up the ticket she’d just placed under his windshield wiper. The car was across the street. She yelled at the man but he flipped her off. Nothing pissed Rita off more than when a civilian disrespected a government employee. She flew across the street in a rage. She didn’t look before she crossed and she stepped in front of a bus. The number 17 Red Line going from Harwood Park to the Courthouse. It was over. Rita was a goner.”

“Oh, no.”

“It was bad, the mortician did the best he could but he couldn’t get the tire tracks off her cheek. A lot of her fellow officers attended the funeral. It was a good crowd. They let me keep her badge. It was kind of them. Her badge held great sentimental value to me.”

“Oh my,” Zing said, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m still grieving, despite my affair with Giselle. The way I figure it, one more year and I should be over Rita.”

“How long has it been?”

“Eight years.”

“That’s a long time in human years,” Zing said.

“I think of her every day. That’s not to say I haven’t had lovers, just no one that can compete with lovely Rita the meter maid.”

“Poor, poor, baby,” Zing intoned, patting her hand.

Miracle looked at Zing with big, pleading eyes and asked the question all humans eventually asked, “Why did she have to die?”

“Everyone has an expiration date,” Zing said. “It was her time.”

Chapter Four

“What the hell are you doing?” Carol asked.

Zing was seated at a table in the donut shop. Carol and Nell stood nearby, watching her eat.

“I’m eating breakfast,” Zing answered. “Miracle said breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I came early so I could have my important meal on my first important day.” Zing put another scoop of Rocky Road ice cream on her fresh out of the oven chocolate éclair. “I came early so I wouldn’t be tardy, and I’m being paid in donuts, so I’m having this one,” she pointed at the chocolate éclair, “In advance.”

Carol stared at her, dumbfounded. “She’s putting ice cream on a pastry,” she informed Nell in a whisper.

“I know. I gave her the spoon.”

“It’s disgusting,” Carol said.

“You should taste it. It’s good,” Zing said. She held up a spoonful and offered her a taste.

“No thanks,” Carol said. She put her white baker’s hat on—forcefully.

“Since donuts are so good and ice cream is so good, I thought putting them together would make them both twice as good,” Zing said.

“That’s so crazy it almost makes sense,” Carol said. She looked over at Nell. “Don’t look at her that way. She’s not a lost puppy, she’s a nut ball.”

“Cut her some slack. She’s working for donuts and coffee and right now we need her,” Nell said without taking her eyes off Zing.

“Can she at least wear a white smock? Her flowered shirt is an eyesore,” Carol said. “And tie her hair back so she doesn’t look like a demented mermaid.”

“I’ll get her all set up,” Nell said.

“I can’t be a mermaid, I don’t know how to swim,” Zing said with a full mouth.

Nell and Zing were saved from Carol’s future wrath by the fryer timer.

“I’ll get it. We don’t need a tray of burnt crullers on top of everything else,” Carol said with an exaggerated sigh. She marched back to the kitchen.

“Will I get to bake someday?” Zing asked after licking her spoon. She looked longingly into the depths of her empty bowl.

“Uh, maybe not today. We need you to work the counter. You’ll get people their donuts and coffee and take their money. I’ll show you how to work the register.”

“Oh, how fun,” Zing said. “I love the
ching, ching, ching
sounds it makes.”

“Most people will pay with credit cards but some pay with cash. Do you know how to make change?” Nell asked.

Before Zing could answer, Carol called from the kitchen, “Am I going to get some help back here anytime soon?”

“Just a second!” Nell answered. She smiled apologetically at Zing and said, “We’ll talk about this later. You go look at the register and familiarize yourself with it. I’ll be back in a minute to answer any questions. When the donuts and pastries are done, you can help fill up the cases.”

“And after all that I’ll get my box of donuts minus the one I ate in advance?” Zing asked.

“Yes. I’ll save you all the best donuts,” Nell said.

“Awesome.”

***

Zing was surprisingly good at the register and at helping people. Her enthusiasm was contagious. She was fast and efficient. She was also good at selling extra donuts by extolling the deliciousness of each and every donut—some of her descriptions were so amazing that people clapped and bought more.

Nell stood in the kitchen doorway and smiled at her. Zing basked in the warmth of that smile. Now that Nell’s bandage was removed and Zing could see both Nell’s ears, she looked lovelier than ever—except for the bald patch that was really evident without her hat on.

By eleven o’clock the crowd thinned out. Zing made her final sale of the day, which officially cleared out the case. Nell turned the sign around on the door to read “Closed.”

Carol stood behind the counter and stared at the empty cases. She shook her head. “We’ve never sold everything before. What are we going to tell Homeless Tom?”

“Who’s Homeless Tom?” Zing asked, her mouth stuffed with a Boston crème donut. Had Nell not been well-versed in Donut Speak no one would’ve understood.

“Homeless Tom comes to the back door every morning and we give him the leftover donuts,” Nell explained. “He hands them out among the homeless.”

Zing looked at her box of donuts. She felt a heaviness in her chest and what felt like a brick in her tummy. Her good mood evaporated and she felt a little sick. “I’m having a bad emotion,” she said to Nell. “What do you call it when you have a lot of something and somebody else has none and it makes you feel bad?”

“Guilt?”

“That’s it,” Zing said. “I have a big wad of guilt in my tummy and I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, it’s a bad one,” Nell said.

Zing thrust her box of donuts at Nell and said, “Give these to Homeless Tom.”

“That’s very sweet, but you worked for your donuts,” Nell said, refusing to take the box. She poured Tom a coffee, adding three sugars and a lot of milk. “I can make him a sandwich or something.”

“But aren’t donuts his favorite?”

“Duh,” Carol said. “Why do you think he comes by here every day?”

“Don’t be mean,” Nell scolded Carol.

Zing shook her head. “I can’t eat these donuts when Homeless Tom needs them more. He must have them. Do you think he’d like the rest of my ice cream on his donuts?”

Carol rolled her eyes. “Sure, he might be just as weird as you.”

“Come on, Zing, let’s go give Tom his donuts and coffee,” Nell said. She took Zing by the elbow and guided her toward the back door.

On the way through the kitchen, Zing opened the freezer and grabbed what was left of her Rocky Road ice cream. She turned to Nell with a bright smile on her face. She was anxious to meet Homeless Tom. “Do think he’ll like me?”

“Of course he’ll like you,” Nell said. “You know, you’re doing a very nice thing, Zing. You’re giving Tom your donuts, and you like those best in the world. So that makes it a sacrifice, which is much harder to do than if you didn’t care about them in the first place.”

“Being human is a lot harder than it appears,” Zing said. “Sometimes doing the right thing hurts.”

Nell put her hand on Zing’s forearm and smiled at her. “You’re very sweet, you know that?”

“I do have a sweet tooth,” Zing said. “Miracle told me that means I like sweet things to eat. Do you think that’s what makes me sweet?”

Nell laughed. “No. I think you’re sweet just because you are. And I find it refreshing. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

“Oh?” Zing said, feeling a rush of warmth to places in her body she’d ever really noticed before. “What else do you like about me?”

Nell smiled mysteriously, stood on tippy-toe, and kissed Zing on the cheek. Zing’s heart began to race. She felt her face get hot. Her tummy felt funny, too. This wasn’t guilt or fear or any other emotion she’d ever felt before. It felt scary, but she also liked it. In fact, she liked it a lot. It was a lot like the rollercoaster only better.

Carol walked into the kitchen and grimaced when she saw Nell and Zing standing so close together and gazing into each other’s eyes. “Your face is all red, Zing,” Carol said, taking off her apron and throwing it in the hamper by the door. “Hot flash?”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Zing said. “Nell touched my arm and then kissed me. I got hot and my knees are weak and my ears are buzzing.”

Carol shot Nell a look. Nell quickly took her hand off Zing’s arm.

“But I like it when you touch me,” Zing said.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Carol growled.

There was a rap on the back door. “That must be Tom,” Nell said in an overly bright voice. She threw open the back door to reveal Homeless Tom. He was talking to Miracle, who was dressed in Wranglers tucked into red cowboy boots, and a Michigan Women’s Music Festival T-shirt was stretched tight over her ample bosom. A big red canvas bag was slung over her shoulder.

Miracle was saying to Tom, “I know just what you mean, sugar. It’s a loss of dignity and an infringement of your civil rights.”

“Miracle!” Zing said.

“It’s not a miracle,” Carol grumbled. “Tom shows up here every damn day.”

“No. I meant that’s my friend, Miracle,” Zing said.

“It’s a miracle you have friends,” Carol said.

“Hi there, Zing!” Miracle said. “I was just talking to Tom while I waited for you to get off work.” She looked at Carol and Nell, saying, “He was just telling me that he wasn’t allowed to ride the bus anymore.”

“What?” Carol and Nell said at the same time.

“The Transit Authority is refusing to. . .” Tom put up air quotes with his fingers, “transport known indigents.”

“You gotta be effin’ kidding me,” Carol said.

“They said they won’t let him on the bus because he’s not wearing an Armani suit,” Miracle said. “Sounds like a line of bullshit, if you ask me.”

“Well, let’s get him one of those suits,” Zing said.

They all looked at Zing, undecided if she was joking or not. Finally, Nell said, “It’s not quite that simple.”

Miracle said, “You know what? I have a friend who owns his own cab. He gives people-in-need rides. He’s workin’ off a karmic debt. Lemme give you his card.” She rummaged around in her big purse, saying, “I know I got it in here somewhere.” She pulled out a tea saucer and frowned at it. “I was wondering where that got off to.”

After a bit more digging, Miracle located a crumpled card and handed it to Tom, who straightened it out and carefully stuck it in his shabby vest pocket. He always wore a vest, trousers, hat, and ascot. He even carried a gold-tipped cane like he was a down-on-his-luck gentleman straight out of a Dickens novel. Sometimes he talked like a 19
th
century gentleman, or depending on the situation, he adopted a Shakespearean lexicon.

“Now who are you exactly?” Carol asked, looking Miracle up and down, her gaze lingering on Miracle’s curves.

“I told you. She’s my friend, Miracle,” Zing said. “Miracle, this is Carol. She’s Nell’s crabby friend I told you about.”

“I’m not crabby,” Carol said, crabbily. “Who said I was crabby?”

Nell’s smile tightened. She didn’t look at Carol.

There was an awkward silence until Miracle broke it by saying, “I dropped by to see how Zing’s first day went. And to give her a ride home.”

“Is Miracle your real name?” Nell asked. She opened the door wider, inviting them inside with a wave of her hand. Miracle stepped in, but Tom politely remained outside.

“No, that’s just what Zing and Annabelle call me,” Miracle said. “Annabelle is my guardian angel. They call me Miracle because I’ve been known to get a wild hair up my butt and do things that are dangerous. They joke that it’s a miracle I’m still alive. I decided I’m keeping the name now because I’m reinventing myself. I think everyone should be allowed at least one, or…” she swooped her arms wide, “however many reinventions it takes to become your true self.” Her eyes glowed.

“In other words, you’re as bat-shit crazy as her,” Carol said, jerking her thumb in Zing’s direction.

Nell slapped Carol’s arm. “Don’t be rude,” she scolded harshly.

Miracle laughed. “That’s okay. I appreciate a little honesty. Especially when it’s coming from such a pretty lady.”

Carol was taken aback by the compliment. She was struck speechless.

“Excuse me. May I have the donuts now?” Tom asked.

“Oh, sorry,” Zing said. She handed the box to him. “I thought you’d like some ice cream to put on top of the donuts.” She plunked the ice cream container on top of the donut box. “Don’t eat it too fast, though. It’ll freeze your brain.”

Tom seemed puzzled, but smiled politely. “Thank you, Ma’am. I’ve never had the pleasure of dining on ice cream and donuts, but I’m sure it’s very enjoyable.” He tipped his hat at them, saying, “I best be on my way. I’m meeting my colleagues at the Tenth Street park bench. Good day.” He turned and strode down the alley with his cane tapping out a steady rhythm.

Zing beamed as she watched him walk away. Giving the donuts to Tom made her feel light and airy inside. She made a silent promise to herself that she would give to those in need more often.

***

When Zing turned back around she caught Miracle staring at Nell’s bald spot.

“It looks bad, huh?” Zing said.

“I’ve seen worse,” Miracle said.

“Really?” Nell asked.

“No,” Miracle said. “I was just trying to make you feel better.”

Carol scowled. “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

“But we can fix it,” Miracle said. “I have just the friend.”

“I’m sure you do,” Carol said.

Miracle didn’t seem to notice the snideness of the remark. “You can come, too. In fact, why don’t we all get our hair cut and styled? It does a body good, and as I’ve discovered, it don’t cost as much as therapy.”

“I know what’s different about you!” Zing exclaimed to Miracle. “You’ve changed out of your pajamas.”