Part 5 (1/2)
”He said he liked the way everything worked out at the end. Why?”
He looked thoughtful. ”Maybe we're going about this all wrong.”
”What do you mean?”
”What if the spirit really does want to give you your heart's desire, and all this transforming stuff is some roundabout way of doing it? Like the angel in It's a Wonderful Life. He's supposed to save Jimmy Stewart from committing suicide, and instead of doing something logical, like talking him out of it or grabbing him, he jumps in the river so Jimmy Stewart has to save him.”
”You're saying he turned seventy-two Portable Plutocrats into 'Save the Ozone Layer'
b.u.t.tons to help me?”
”I don't know. All I'm saying is that maybe you should tell him you want to go to the office party in a black sequined dress with Scott Buckley, and see what happens.”
”See what happens? After what he did to my dress? If he knew I wanted Scott, he'd probably turn him into a harp seal.” She put on her coat. ”Well, are we going to call the department heads or not?”
The Graphic Design department wanted staplers, and so did Accounts Payable. Accounts Receivable, which was having an outbreak of stress-related Christmas colds, wanted Puffs Plus and cough drops. Doc.u.ment Control wanted scissors.
Scott looked at the list, checking off Systems and the other departments they'd called.
”All we've got left is the PMS Committee,” he said.
”I know what to get them,” Lauren said. ”Copies of Let's Forget Christmas.”
They got some of the things before Bizmart closed, and Fred was back at nine Sat.u.r.day morning to do the rest of it. At the bookstore they ran into the woman who had been stapling presents together the day Lauren enlisted Fred's help.
”I completely forgot my husband's first wife,” she said, looking desperate, ”and I don't have any idea of what to get her.”
Fred handed her the videotape of It's a Wonderful Life they were giving the receptionist. ”How about one of these?” he said.
”Do you think she'll like it?”
”Everybody likes it,” Fred said.
”Especially the part where the bad guy steals the money, and Jimmy Stewart races around town, trying to replace it,” Lauren said.
It took them most of the morning to get the rest of the presents and forever to wrap them.
By four they weren't even half done.
”What's next?” Fred asked, tying the bow on the last of the staplers. He stood up and stretched.”Cough drops,” Lauren said, cutting a length of red paper with Santa Clauses on it.
He sat back down. ”Ah, yes. Accounts Receivable's heart's desire.”
”What's your heart's desire?” Lauren asked, folding the paper over the top of the cough drops and taping it. ”What would you ask for if the spirit inflicted himself on you?”
Fred unreeled a length of ribbon. ”Well, not to go to an office party, that's for sure. The only year I had an even remotely good time was last year, talking to you.”
”I'm serious,” Lauren said. She taped the sides and handed the package to Fred. ”What do you really want for Christmas?”
”When I was eight,” he said thoughtfully, ”I asked for a computer for Christmas. Home computers were new then and they were pretty expensive, and I wasn't sure I'd get it. I was a lot like Natalie Wood in Miracle on 34th Street. I didn't believe in Santa Claus, and I didn't believe in miracles, but I really wanted it.”
He cut off the length of ribbon, wrapped it around the package, and tied it in a knot.
”Did you get the computer?”
”No,” he said, cutting off shorter lengths of ribbon. ”Christmas morning I came downstairs, and there was a note telling me to look in the garage.” He opened the scissors and pulled the ribbon across the blade, making it curl. ”It was a puppy.” He smiled, remembering. ”The thing was, a computer was too expensive, but there was an outside chance I'd get it, or I wouldn't have asked for it. Kids don't ask for stuff they know is impossible.”
”And you hadn't asked for a puppy because you knew you couldn't have one?”
”No, you don't understand. There are things you don't ask for because you know you can't have them, and then there are things so far outside the realm of possibility, it would never even occur to you to want them.” He made the curled ribbon into a bow and fastened it to the package.
”So what you're saying is your heart's desire is something so far outside the realm of possibility, you don't even know what it is?”
”I didn't say that,” he said. He stood up again. ”Do you want some eggnog?”
”Yes, thanks. If it's still there.”
He went into the kitchen. She could hear forest-thras.h.i.+ng noises and the refrigerator opening. ”It's still here,” he said.
”It's funny Chris hasn't been back,” she called to Fred. ”I keep worrying he must be up to something.”
”Chris?” Fred said. He came back into the living room with two gla.s.ses of eggnog.
”The spirit. He told me to call him that,” she said. ”It's short for Spirit of Christmas Present.” Fred was frowning. ”What's wrong?” Lauren asked.
”I wonder . . . nothing. Never mind.” He went over to the TV. ”I don't suppose Miracle on 34th Street's on TV this afternoon?”
”No, but I made him change your video back.” She pointed. ”It's there, on top of the TV.”
He turned on the TV, inserted the video in the VCR, and hit play. He came and sat down beside Lauren. She handed him the wrapped cough drops, but he didn't take them. He was watching the TV. Lauren looked up. On the screen, Jimmy Stewart was walking past Donna Reed's house, racketing a stick along the picket fence.
”That isn't Miracle,” Lauren said. ”He told me he changed it back.” She s.n.a.t.c.hed up the box. It still showed Edmund Gwenn hugging Natalie Wood. ”That little sneak! He only changed the box!”
She glared at the TV. On the screen Jimmy Stewart was glaring at Donna Reed.
”It's all right,” Fred said, taking the package and reaching for the ribbon. ”It's not a bad movie. The ending's too sentimental, and it doesn't really make sense. I mean, one minute everything's hopeless, and Jimmy Stewart's ready to kill himself, and then the angel convinces him he had a wonderful life, and suddenly everything's okay.” He looked aroundthe table, patting the spread-out wrapping paper. ”But it has its moments. Have you seen the scissors?”
Lauren handed him one of the pairs they'd bought. ”We'll wrap them last.”
On the TV Jimmy Stewart was sitting in Donna Reed's living room, looking awkward.
”What I have trouble with is Jimmy Stewart's being so self-sacrificing,” she said, cutting a length of red paper with Santa Clauses on it. ”I mean, he gives up college so his brother can go, and then when his brother has a chance at a good job, he gives up college again. He even gives up committing suicide to save Clarence. There's such a thing as being too self-sacrificing, you know.”
”Maybe he gives up things because he thinks he doesn't deserve them.”
”Why wouldn't he?”
”He's never gone to college, he's poor, he's deaf in one ear. Sometimes when people are handicapped or overweight they just a.s.sume they can't have the things other people have.”
The telephone rang. Lauren reached for it and then realized it was on TV.