|
 The author admits that while Miracle on
34th Street is her favorite Christmas movie, It’s A
Wonderful Life does have its moments. The following tale
is a delightful homage to both. Ms. Willis’s last December
story, "Cibola," is now a finalist for the Hugo
Award. | There was a Christmas tree in
the lobby when Lauren got to work, and the receptionist was sitting
with her chin in her hand, watching the security monitor. Lauren set
her shopping bag down and looked curiously at the screen. On it,
Jimmy Stewart was dancing the Charleston with Donna Reed.
"The Personnel Morale Special
Committee had cable piped in for Christmas," the receptionist
explained, handing Lauren her messages. "I love It’s a Wonderful
Life, don’t you?"
Lauren stuck her messages in
the top of her shopping bag and went up to her department. Red and
green crepe paper hung in streamers from the ceiling, and there was
a big red crepe paper bow tied around Lauren’s desk.
"The Personnel Morale Special
Committee did it," Cassie said, coming over with the catalogue she’d
been reading. "They’re decorating the whole building, and they want
us and Document Control to go caroling this afternoon. Don’t you
think PMS is getting out of hand with this Christmas spirit thing? I
mean, who wants to spend Christmas Eve at an office
party?"
"I do," Lauren said. She set
her shopping bag down on the desk, sat down, and began taking off
her boots.
"Can I borrow your stapler?"
Cassie asked. "I’ve lost mine again. I’m ordering my mother the
Water of the Month, and I need to staple my check to the order
form."
"The water of the month?"
Lauren said, opening her desk drawer and taking out her
stapler.
"You know, they send you
bottles of a different one every month. Perrier, Evian, Calistoga."
She peered in Lauren’s shopping bag. "Do you have Christmas presents
in there? I hate people who have their shopping done four weeks
before Christmas."
"It’s four days till
Christmas," Lauren said, "and I don’t have it all done. I still
don’t have anything for my sister. But I’ve got all my friends,
including you, done." She reached in the shopping bag and pulled out
her pumps. "And I found a dress for the office
party."
"Did you buy it?"
"No." She put on one of her
shoes. "I’m going to try it on during my lunch hour.?’
"If it’s still there," Cassie
said gloomily. "I had this echidna toothpick holder all picked out
for my brother, and when I went back to buy it, they were all
gone."
"I asked them to hold the dress
for me," Lauren said. She put on her other shoe. "It’s gorgeous.
Black off-the-shoulder. Sequined."
"Still trying to get Scott
Buckley to notice you, huh? I don’t do things like that any more.
Nineties women don’t use sexist tricks to attract men. Besides, I
decided he was too cute to ever notice somebody like me." She sat
down on the edge of Lauren’s desk and started leafing through the
catalogue. "Here’s something your sister might like. The Vegetable
of the Month. February’s okra."
"She lives in southern
California," Lauren said, shoving her boots under the
desk.
"Oh. How about the Sunscreen of
the Month?"
"No," Lauren said. "She’s into
New Age stuff. Channeling and stuff. Last year she sent me a crystal
pyramid mate selector for Christmas."
"The Eastern philosophy of the
month," Cassie said. "Zen, sufism, tai chi -- "
"I’d like to get her something
she’d really like," Lauren mused. "I always have a terrible time
figuring out what to get people for (Christmas. So this year, I
decided things were going to be different. I wasn’t going to be
tearing around the mall the day before Christmas, buying things no
one would want and wondering what on earth I was going to wear to
the office party. I started doing my shopping in September, I
wrapped my presents as soon as I bought them, I have all my
Christmas cards done and ready to mail -- "
"You’re disgusting," Cassie
said. "Oh, here, I almost forgot." She pulled a folded slip of paper
out of her catalogue and handed it to Lauren. "It’s your name for
the Secret Santa gift exchange. PMS says you’re supposed to bring
your present for it by Friday so it won’t interfere with the
presents Santa Claus hands out at the office party."
Lauren unfolded the paper, and
Cassie leaned over to read it. "Who’d you get? Wait, don’t tell me.
Scott Buckley."
"No. Fred Hatch. And I know
just what to get him."
"Fred? The fat guy in
Documentation? What is it, the Diet of the Month?"
"This is supposed to be the
season of love and charity, not the season when you make mean
remarks about someone just because he’s overweight," Lauren said
sternly. "I’m going to get him a videotape of Miracle on 34th
Street."
Cassie looked
uncomprehending.
"It’s Fred’s favorite movie. We
had a wonderful talk about it at the office party last
year."
"I never heard of
it."
"It’s about Macy’s Santa Claus.
He starts telling people they can get their kids’ toys cheaper at
Gimbel’s, and then the store psychiatrist decides he’s crazy --
"
"Why don’t you get him It’s
a Wonderful Life? That’s my favorite Christmas
movie."
"Yours and everybody else’s. I
think Fred and I are the only two people in the world who like
Miracle on 34th Street better. See, Edmund Gwenn, he’s Santa
Claus, gets committed to Bellevue because he thinks he’s Santa
Claus, and since there isn’t any Santa Claus, he has to be crazy,
but he is Santa Claus, and Fred Gailey, that’s John Payne,
he’s a lawyer in the movie, he decides to have a court hearing to
prove it, and -- "
"I watch It’s a Wonderful
Life every Christmas. I love the part where Jimmy Stewart and
Donna Reed fall into the swimming pool," Cassie said. "What happened
to the stapler?"
They had the dress and it fit,
but there was an enormous jam-up at the cash register, and then they
couldn’t find a hanging bag for it.
"Just put it in a shopping
bag," Lauren said, looking anxiously at her watch.
"It’ll wrinkle," the clerk said
ominously and continued to search for a hanging bag. By the time
Lauren convinced her a shopping bag would work, it was already
twelve-fifteen. She had hoped she’d have time to look for a present
for her sister, but there wasn’t going to be time. She still had to
run the dress home and mail the Christmas cards.
I can pick up Fred’s video, she
thought, fighting her way onto the escalator. That wouldn’t take
much time since she knew what she wanted, and maybe they’d have
something with Shirley MacLaine in it she could get her sister. Ten
minutes to buy the video, she thought, tops.
It took her nearly half an
hour. There was only one copy, which the clerk couldn’t
find.
"Are you sure you wouldn’t
rather have It’s a Wonderful Life?" she asked Lauren. "It’s
my favorite movie."
"I want Miracle on 34th
Street," Lauren said patiently. "With Edmund Gwenn and
Natalie Wood."
The clerk picked up a copy of
It’s a Wonderful Life off a huge display. "See, Jimmy
Stewart’s in trouble and he wishes he’d never been born, and this
angel grants him his wish -- "
"I know," Lauren said. "I don’t
care. I want Miracle on 34th Street."
"Okay!" the clerk said, and
wandered off to look for it, muttering, "Some people don’t have any
Christmas spirit."
She finally found it, in the
M’s of all places, and then insisted on giftwrapping it.
By the time Lauren made it back
to her apartment, it was a quarter to one. She would have to forget
lunch and mailing the Christmas cards, but she could at least take
them with her, buy the stamps, and put the stamps on at
work.
She took the video out of the
shopping bag and set it on the coffee table next to her purse,
picked up the bag and started for the bedroom.
Someone knocked on the
door.
"I don’t have time for this,"
she muttered, and opened the door, still holding the shopping
bag.
It was a young man wearing a
"Save the Whales" T-shirt and khaki pants. He had shoulder-length
blond hair and a vague expression that made her thick of Southern
California.
"Yes? What is it?" she
asked.
"I’m here to give you a
Christmas present," he said.
"Thank you, I’m not interested
in whatever you’re selling," she said, and shut the door.
He knocked again immediately.
"I’m not selling anything," he said through the door.
"Really."
I don’t have time for
this, she thought, but she opened the door again.
"I’m not a salesguy," he said.
"Have you ever heard of the Maharishi Ram Dras?"
A religious nut.
"I don’t have time to talk to
you." She started to say, "I’m late for work," and then remembered
you weren’t supposed to tell strangers your apartment was going to
be empty. "I’m very busy," she said and shut the door, more firmly
this time.
The knocking commenced again,
but she ignored it. She started into the bedroom with the shopping
bag, came back and pushed the deadbolt across and put the chain on,
and then went in to hang up her dress. By the time she’d extricated
it from the tissue paper and found a hanger the knocking had
stopped. She hung up the dress, which looked just as deadly now that
she had it home, and went back in the living room.
The young man was sitting on
the couch, messing with her TV remote. "So, what do you want for
Christmas? A yacht? A pony?" He punched buttons on the remote,
frowning. "A new TV?"
"How did you get in here?"
Lauren said squeakily. She looked at the door. The deadbolt and
chain were both still on.
"I’m a spirit," he said,
putting the remote down. The TV suddenly blared on. "The Spirit of
Christmas Present."
"Oh," Lauren said, edging
toward the phone. "Like in A Christmas Carol."
"No," he said, flipping through
the channels. She looked at the remote. It was still on the coffee
table. "Not Christmas Present. Christmas Present. You know,
Barbie dolls, ugly ties, cheese logs, the stuff people give you
for Christmas."
"Oh, Christmas Present.
I see," Lauren said, carefully picking up the phone.
"People always get me
confused with him, which is really insulting. I mean, the guy
obviously has a really high cholesterol level. Anyway, I’m the
Spirit of Christmas Present, and your sister sent me to --
"
Lauren had dialed nine one. She
stopped, her finger poised over the second one. "My
sister?"
"Yeah," he said, staring at the
TV. Jimmy Stewart was sitting in the guard’s room wrapped in a
blanket. "Oh, wow! It’s A Wonderful Life."
My sister sent you, Lauren
thought. It explained everything. He was not a Moonie or a serial
killer. He was this year’s version of the crystal pyramid mate
selector. "How do you know my sister?"
"She channeled me," he said,
leaning back against the sofa. "The Maharishi Ram Dras was
instructing her in trance-meditation, and she accidentally channeled
my spirit out of the astral plane." He pointed at the screen. "I
love this part where the angel is trying to convince Jimmy Stewart
he’s dead."
"I’m not dead, am
I?"
"No. I’m not an angel. I’m a
spirit. The Spirit of Christmas Present. You can call me Chris for
short. Your sister sent me to give you what you really want for
Christmas. You know, your heart’s desire. So what i9 it?"
For my sister not to send me
any more presents, she thought. "Look I’m really in a hurry right
now. Why don’t you come back tomorrow and we can talk about
it then?"
"I hope it’s not a fur coat,"
he said as if he hadn’t heard her. "I’m opposed to the killing of
endangered species." He picked up Fred’s present. "What’s
this?"
"It’s a videotape of Miracle
on 34th Street. I really have to go."
"Who’s it for?"
"Fred Hatch. I’m his Secret
Santa."
"Fred Hatch." He turned the
package over. "You had it gift-wrapped at the store, didn’t
you?"
"Yes. If we could just talk
about this later -- "
"This is a great part, too," he
said, leaning forward to watch the TV. The angel was explaining to
Jimmy Stewart how he hadn’t gotten his wings yet.
"I have to go. I’m on my lunch hour, and I need
to mail my Christmas cards, and I have to get back to work -- " She
glanced at her watch, " -- oh my God, fifteen minutes
ago."
He put down the package and
stood up. "Gift-wrapped presents," he said, making a "tsk"-ing
noise, "Everybody rushing around spending money, rushing to parties,
never stopping to have some eggnog or watch a movie. Christmas is an
endangered species." He looked longingly back at the screen, where
the angel was trying to convince Jimmy Stewart he’d never been
alive, and then wandered into the kitchen. "You got any Evian
water?"
"No," Lauren said desperately.
She hurried after him. "Look, I really have to get to
work."
He had stopped at the kitchen
table and was holding one of the Christmas cards.
"Computer-addressed," he said reprovingly. He tore it
open.
"Don’t -- " Lauren
said.
"Printed Christmas cards," he
said. "No letter, no quick note, not even a handwritten signature.
That’s exactly what I’m talking about. An endangered
species."
"I didn’t have time," Lauren
said defensively. "And I don’t have time to discuss this or anything
else with you. I have to get to work."
"No time to write a few words
on a card, no time to think about what you want for Christmas." He
slid the card back into the envelope. "Not even on recycled paper,"
he said sadly. "Do you know how many trees are chopped down every
year to send Christmas cards?"
"I am late for -- "
Lauren said, and he wasn’t there anymore.
He didn’t vanish like in the
movies, or fade out slowly. He simply wasn’t there.
" -- work," Lauren said. She
went and looked in the living room. The TV was still on, but he
wasn’t there, or in the bedroom. She went in the bathroom and pulled
the shower curtain back, but he wasn’t there either. "It was an
hallucination," she said out loud, "brought on by stress." She
looked at her watch, hoping it had been part of the hallucination
but it still read one-fifteen. "I will figure this out later," she
said. "I have to get back to work."
She went back in the living
room. The TV was off. She went into the kitchen. He wasn’t there.
Neither were her Christmas cards, exactly.
"You! Spirit!" she shouted.
"You come back here, this minute!"
"You’re late," Cassie said,
filling out a catalogue form. "You will not believe who was just
here. Scott Buckley. God, he is so cute." She looked up. "What
happened?" she said. "Didn’t they hold the dress?"
"Do you know anything about
magic?" Lauren said.
"What
happened?"
"My sister sent me her
Christmas present," Lauren said grimly. "I need to talk to someone
who knows something about magic."
"Fat... I mean Fred Hatch is a
magician. What did your sister send you?"
Lauren started down the hall to
Documentation at a half-run.
"I told Scott you’d be back any
minute," Cassie said. "He said he wanted to talk to you."
Lauren opened the door to
Documentation and started looking over partitions into the maze of
cubicles. They were all empty.
"Anybody here?" Lauren called.
"Hello?"
A middle-aged woman emerged
from the maze, carrying five rolls of wrapping paper and a large
pair of scissors. "You don’t have any Scotch tape, do you?" she
asked Lauren.
"Do you know where Fred Hatch
is?" Lauren asked.
The woman pointed toward the
interior of the maze with a roll of reindeer-covered paper. "Over
there. Doesn’t anyone have any tape? I’m going to have to
staple my Christmas presents."
Lauren worked her way toward
where the woman had pointed, looking over partitions as she went.
Fred was in the center one, leaning back in a chair, his hands
folded over his ample stomach, staring at a screen covered with
yellow numbers.
"Excuse me," Lauren said, and
Fred immediately sat forward and stood up.
"I need to talk to you," she
said. "Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"
"Right here," Fred said. "My
assistant’s on the 800 line in my office placing a catalogue order,
and everyone else is next door in Graphic Design at a Tupperware
party." He pushed a key, and the computer screen went blank. "What
did you want to talk to me about?"
"Cassie said you’re a
magician," she said.
He looked embarrassed. "Not
really. The PMS Committee put me in charge of the magic show for the
office party last year, and I came up with an act. This year,
luckily, they assigned me to play Santa Claus."
He smiled and patted his
stomach. "I’m the right shape for the part, and I don’t have to
worry about the tricks not working."
"Oh, dear," Lauren said. "I
hoped... do you know any magicians?"
"The guy at the novelty shop,"
he said, looking worried. "What’s the matter? Did PMS assign you the
magic show this year?"
"No." She sat down on the edge
of his desk. "My sister is into New Age stuff, and she sent me this
spirit -- "
"Spirit," he said. "A ghost,
you mean?"
"No. A person. I mean he looks
like a person. He says he’s the Spirit of Christmas Present, as in
Gift, not Here and Now."
"And you’re sure he’s not a
person? I mean, tricks can sometimes really look like
magic."
"There’s a Christmas tree in my
kitchen," she said.
"Christmas tree?" he said
warily.
"Yes. The spirit was upset
because my Christmas cards weren’t on recycled paper, he asked me if
I knew how many trees were chopped down to send Christmas cards,
then he disappeared, and when I went back in the kitchen there was
this Christmas tree in my kitchen."
"And there’s no way he could
have gotten into your apartment earlier and put it
there?"
"It’s growing out of the
floor. Besides, it wasn’t there when we were in the kitchen five
minutes before. See, he was watching It’s A Wonderful Life on
TV, which, by the way, he turned on without using the remote, and he
asked me if I had any Evian water, and he went in the kitchen and...
this is ridiculous. You have to think I’m crazy. I think I’m crazy
just listening to myself tell this ridiculous story. Evian water!"
She folded her arms. "People have a lot of nervous breakdowns around
Christmas time. Do you think I could be having one?"
The woman with the wrapping
paper rolls peered over the cubicle wall.
"Have you got a tape
dispenser?"
Fred shook his head.
"How about a
stapler?"
Fred handed her his stapler,
and she left.
"Well," Lauren said when she
was sure the woman was gone, "do you think I’m having a nervous
breakdown?"
"That depends," he
said.
"On what?"
"On whether there’s really a
tree growing out of your kitchen floor. You said he got angry
because your Christmas cards weren’t on recycled paper. Do you think
he’s dangerous?"
"I don’t know. He says he’s
here to give me whatever I want for Christmas. Except a fur coat.
He’s opposed to the killing of endangered species."
"A spirit who’s an animal
rights activist!" Fred said delightedly.
"Where did your sister get him
from?"
"The astral plane," Lauren
said. "She was trance-channeling or something. I don’t care where he
came from. I just want to get rid of him before he decides my
Christmas presents aren’t recyclable, too."
"Okay," he said, hitting a key
on the computer. The screen lit up. "The first thing we need to do
is find out what he is and how he got here. I want you to call your
sister. Maybe she knows some New Age spell for getting rid of the
spirit." He began to type rapidly. "I’ll get on the networks and see
if I can find someone who knows something about magic."
He swiveled around to face her.
"You’re sure you want to get rid of him?"
"I have a tree growing
out of my kitchen floor!"
"But what if he’s telling the
truth? What if he really can get you what you want for
Christmas?"
"What I wanted was to
mail my Christmas cards, which are now shedding needles on the
kitchen tile. Who knows what he’ll do next?"
"Yeah," he said. "Listen,
whether he’s dangerous or not, I think I should go home with you
after work, in case he shows up again, but I’ve got a PMS meeting
for the office party -- "
"That’s okay. He’s an animal
rights activist. He’s not dangerous."
"That doesn’t necessarily
follow," Fred said. "I’ll come over as soon as my meeting’s over,
and meanwhile I’ll check the networks. Okay?"
"Okay," she said. She started
out of the cubicle and then stopped. "I really appreciate your
believing me, or at least not saying you don’t believe
me."
He smiled at her. "I don’t have
any choice. You’re the only other person in the world who likes
Miracle on 34th Street better than It’s a Wonderful Life.
And Fred Gailey believed Macy’s Santa Claus was really Santa
Claus, didn’t he?"
"Yeah," she said. "I don’t
think this guy is Santa Claus. He was wearing
Birkenstocks."
"I’ll meet you at your front
door," he said. He sat down at the computer and began
typing.
Lauren went through the maze of
cubicles and into the hall.
"There you are!" Scott
said. "I’ve been looking for you all over." He smiled meltingly.
"I’m in charge of buying gifts for the office party, and I need your
help."
"My help?"
"Yeah. Picking them out. I
hoped maybe I could talk you into going shopping with me after work
tonight."
"Tonight?" she said. "I can’t.
I’ve got -- " A Christmas tree growing in my kitchen. "Could we do
it tomorrow after work?"
He shook his head. "I’ve got a
date. What about later on tonight? The stores are open till nine. It
shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours to do the shopping, and
then we could go have a late supper somewhere. What say I pick you
up at your apartment at six-thirty?"
And have the spirit lying on
the couch, drinking Evian water and watching TV? "I can’t," she said
regretfully.
Even his frown was cute. "Oh,
well," he said, and shrugged. "Too bad. I guess I’ll have to get
somebody else." He gave her another adorable smile and went off down
the hall to ask somebody else.
I hate you, Spirit of
Christmas Present, Lauren thought, standing there watching
his handsome back recede. You’d better not be there when I get
home.
A woman came down the hall,
carrying a basket of candy canes. "Compliments of the Personnel
Morale Special Committee," she said, offering one to Lauren. "You
look like you could use a little Christmas spirit."
"No, thanks, I’ve already got
one," Lauren said.
The door to her apartment was
locked, which didn’t mean much since the chain and the deadbolt had
both been on when he got in before. But he wasn’t in the living
room, and the TV was off.
He had been there, though.
There was an empty Evian water bottle on the coffee table. She
picked it up and took it into the kitchen. The tree was still there,
too. She pushed one of the branches aside so she could get to the
wastebasket and throw the bottle away.
"Don’t you know plastic bottles
are nonbiodegradable?" the Spirit said. He was standing on the other
side of the tree, hanging things on the branches. He was dressed in
khaki shorts and a "Save the Rain Forest" T-shirt, and had a red
bandanna tied around his head. "You should recycle your
bottles."
"It’s your bottle," Lauren
said. "What are you doing here, Spirit?"
"Chris," he corrected her.
"These are organic ornaments," he said. He held one of the brown
things out to her. "Handmade by the Yanomamo Indians. Each one is
made of natural by-products found in the Brazilian rain forest." He
hung the brown thing on the tree. "Have you decided what you want
for Christmas?"
"Yes," she said. "I want you to
go away."
He looked surprised. "I can’t
do that. Not until I give you your heart’s desire."
"That is my heart’s desire. I
want you to go away and take this tree and your Yanomamo ornaments
with you."
"You know the biggest problem I
have as the Spirit of Christmas Present?" he said. He reached in the
back pocket of his shorts and pulled out a brown garland of what
looked like coffee beans. "My biggest problem is that people don’t
know what they want."
"I know what I want," Lauren
said. "I don’t want to have to write my Christmas cards all over
again -- "
"You didn’t write them," he
said, draping the garland over the branches. "They were printed. Do
you know that the inks used on those cards contain harmful
chemicals?"
"I don’t want to be lectured on
environmental issues, I don’t want to have to fight my way through a
forest to get to the refrigerator, and I don’t want to have to turn
down dates because I have a spirit in my apartment. I want a nice,
quiet Christmas with no hassles I want to exchange a few presents
with my friends and go to the office Christmas party and... " And
dazzle Scott Buckley in my off-the-shoulder black dress, she
thought, but she decided she’d better not say that. The Spirit might
decide Scott’s clothes weren’t made of natural fibers or something
and turn him into a Yanomamo Indian.
"... and have a nice, quiet
Christmas," she finished lamely.
"Take It’s A Wonderful
Life," the Spirit said, squinting at the tree. "I watched it
this afternoon while you were at work. Jimmy Stewart didn’t know
what he wanted."
He reached in his pocket again
and pulled out a crooked star made of Brazil nuts and twine. "He
thought he wanted to go to college-and travel and get rich, but what
he really wanted was right there in front of him the whole
time."
He did something, and the top
of the tree lopped over in front of him. He tied the star on with
the twine, and did something else. The tree straightened up. "You
only think you want me to leave," he said.
Someone knocked on the
door.
"You’re right," Lauren said. "I
don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay right there." She ran
into the living room.
The spirit followed her into
the living room. "Luckily, being a spirit, I know what you really
want," he said, and disappeared.
She opened the door to Fred.
"He was just here," she said. "He disappeared when I opened the
door, which is what all the crazies say, isn’t it?"
"Yeah," Fred said. "Or else,
’He’s right there. Can’t you see him?’ " He looked curiously around
the room. "Where was he?"
"In the kitchen," she said,
shutting the door. "Decorating a tree which probably isn’t there
either." She led him into the kitchen.
The tree was still there, and
there were large brownish cards stuck all over it.
"You really do have a tree
growing in your kitchen," Fred said, squatting down to look at the
roots. "I wonder if the people downstairs have roots sticking out of
their ceiling." He stood up. "What are these." he said, pointing at
the brownish cards.
"Christmas cards." She pulled
one off. "I told him I wanted mine back." She read the card aloud. "
’In the time it takes you to read this Christmas card, eighty-two
harp seals will have been clubbed to death for their fur.’ " She
opened it up. " ’Happy Holidays.’ "
"Cheery," Fred said. He took
the card from her and turned it over. " ’This card is printed on
recycled paper with vegetable inks and can be safely used as
compost.’ "
"Did anyone in the networks
know how to club a spirit to death?" she asked.
"No. Didn’t your sister have
any ideas?"
"She didn’t know how she got
him in the first place. She and her Maharishi were channeling an
Egyptian nobleman and he suddenly appeared, wearing a Save the
Dolphins T-shirt. I got the idea the Maharishi was as surprised
as she was." She sat down at the kitchen table. "I tried to get him
to go away this afternoon, but he said he has to give me my heart’s
desire first." She looked up at Fred, who was cautiously sniffing
one of the organic ornaments. "Didn’t you find out anything on the
networks?"
"I found out there are a lot of
loonies with computers. What are these?"
"By-products of the Brazilian
rain forest." She stood up. "I told him my heart’s desire was for
him to leave, and he said I didn’t know what I really
wanted."
"Which is what?"
"I don’t know," she said. "I
went into the living room to answer the door, and he said that
luckily he knew what I wanted because he was a spirit, and I told
him to stay right where he was, and he disappeared."
"Show me," he said.
She took him into the living
room and pointed at where he’d been standing, and Fred squatted down
again and peered at the carpet.
"How does he
disappear?"
"I don’t know. He just... isn’t
there."
Fred stood up. "Has he changed
anything else? Besides the tree?"
"Not that I know of. He turned
the TV on without the remote," she said, looking around the room.
The shopping bags were still on the coffee table. She looked through
them and pulled out the video. "Here. I’m your Secret Santa. I’m not
supposed to give it to you till Christmas Eve, but maybe you’d
better take it before he turns it into a snowy owl or
something."
She handed it to him. "Go
ahead. Open it."
He unwrapped it. "Oh," he said
without enthusiasm. "Thanks."
"I remember last year at the
party-we talked about it, and I was afraid you might already have a
copy. You don’t, do you?"
"No," he said, still in that
flat voice.
"Oh, good. I had a hard time
finding it. You were right when you said we were the only two people
in the world who liked Miracle on 34th Street. Everybody else
I know thinks It’s A Wonderful Life is -- "
"You bought me Miracle on
34th Street?" he said, frowning.
"It’s the original
black-and-white version. I hate those colorized things, don’t you?
Everyone has gray teeth."
"Lauren." He held the box out
to her so she could read the front. "I think your friend’s been
fixing things again."
She took the box from him. On
the cover was a picture of Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed dancing the
Charleston.
"Oh, no! That little rat!" she
said. "He must have changed it when he was looking at it. He told,
me It’s A Wonderful Life was his favorite movie."
"Et tu, Brute?"
Fred said, shaking his head.
"Do you suppose he changed
all-my other Christmas presents?"
"We’d better check."
"If he has..." she said. She
dropped to her knees and started rummaging through them.
"Do you think they look the
same?" Fred asked, squatting down beside her.
"Your present looked the same."
She grabbed a package wrapped in red-and-gold paper and began
feeling it. "Cassie’s present is okay, I think."
"What is it?"
"A stapler. She’s always losing
hers. I put her name on it in Magic Marker." She handed it to him to
feel.
"It feels like a stapler, all
right," he said.
"I think we’d better open it
and make sure."
Fred tore off the paper. "It’s
still a stapler," he said, looking at it. "What a great idea for a
Christmas present! Everybody in Documentation’s always losing their
staplers. I think PMS steals them to use on their Christmas
decorations." He handed it back to her. "Now you’ll have to wrap it
again."
"That’s okay," Lauren said. "At
least it wasn’t a Yanomamo ornament."
"But it might be any minute,"
Fred said, straightening up. "There’s no telling what he might take
a notion to transform next. I think you’d better call your sister
again, and ask her to ask the Maharishi if he knows how to
send spirits back to the astral plane, and I’ll go see what I can
find out from the networks."
"Okay," Lauren said, following
him to the door. "Don’t take the videotape with you. Maybe I can get
him to change it back."
"Maybe," Fred said frowning.
"You’re sure he said he was here to give you your heart’s
desire?"
"I’m sure."
"Then why would he change my
videotape?" he said thoughtfully. "It’s too bad your sister couldn’t
have conjured up a nice, straightforward spirit."
"Like Santa Claus," Lauren
said.
Her sister wasn’t home. Lauren
tried her off and on all evening, and when she finally got her, she
couldn’t talk. "The Maharishi and I are going to Barbados. They’re
having a harmonic divergence there on Christmas Eve, so don’t worry
about getting my present here by Christmas because I won’t be back
till the day after New Year’s," she said and hung up.
"I don’t even have her
Christmas present bought yet," Lauren said to the couch, "and it’s
all your fault."
She went in the kitchen and
glared at the tree. "I don’t even dare go shopping because you might
turn the couch into a humpbacked whale while I’m gone," she said and
then clapped her hand over her mouth.
She peered cautiously into the
living room and then made a careful circuit of the whole apartment,
looking for endangered species. There were no signs of any, and no
sign of the spirit. She went back into the living room and turned on
the TV. Jimmy Stewart was dancing the Charleston with Donna Reed.
She picked up the remote and hit the channel button. Now he was
singing, "Buffalo Gals, Won’t You Come Out Tonight?"
She hit the automatic channel
changer. Jimmy Stewart was on every channel except one. The Ghost of
Christmas Present was on that one, telling Scrooge to change his
ways. She watched the rest of A Christmas Carol. When it
reached the part where the Cratchits were sitting down to their
Christmas dinner, she remembered she hadn’t had any supper and went
in the kitchen.
The tree was completely
blocking the cupboards, but by mightily pushing several branches
aside she was able to get to the refrigerator. The eggnog was gone.
So were the Stouffer’s frozen entrees. The only thing in the
refrigerator was a half-empty bottle of Evian water.
She shoved her way out of the
kitchen and sat back down on the couch. Fred had told her to
call if anything happened, but it was after eleven o’clock, and she
had a feeling the eggnog had been gone for some time.
A Christmas Carol was
over, and the opening credits were starting. "Frank Capra’s It’s
a Wonderful Life. Starring Jimmy Stewart and Donna
Reed."
She must have fallen asleep.
When she woke up, Miracle on 34th Street was on, and the
store manager was giving Edmund Gwenn as Macy’s Santa Claus a list
of toys he was supposed to push if Macy’s didn’t have what the
children asked Santa for.
"Finally," Lauren said,
watching Edmund Gwenn tear the list into pieces, "something good to
watch," and promptly fell asleep. When she woke up again, John Payne
and Maureen O’Hara were kissing and someone was knocking on the
door.
I don’t remember anyone
knocking on the door, she thought groggily. John Payne told Maureen
O’Hara how he’d convinced the State of New York Edmund Gwenn was
Santa Claus, and then they both stared disbelievingly at a cane
standing in the corner. "The End" came on the screen.
The knocking
continued.
"Oh," Lauren said, and answered
the door.
It was Fred, carrying a
McDonald’s sack.
"What time is it?" Lauren said,
blinking at him.
"Seven o’clock. I brought you
an Egg McMuffin and some orange juice."
"Oh, you wonderful person!" she
said. She grabbed the sack and took it over to the coffee table.
"You don’t know what he did." She reached into the sack and pulled
out the sandwich. "He transformed the food in my refrigerator into
Evian water."
He was looking curiously at her
"Didn’t you go to bed last night? He didn’t come back, did
he?"
"No, I waited for him, and I
guess I fell asleep." She took a huge bite of the
sandwich.
Fred sat down beside her.
"What’s that?" He pointed to a pile of dollar bills on the coffee
table.
"I don’t know," Lauren
said.
Fred picked up the bills. Under
them was a handful of change and a pink piece of paper. " ’Returned
three boxes Christmas cards for refund,’ " Lauren said, reading it.
" ’$22.18.’ "
"That’s what’s here," Fred
said, counting the money. "He didn’t turn your Christmas cards into
a Douglas fir after all. He took them back and got a
refund."
"Then that means the tree isn’t
in the kitchen!" she said, jumping up and running to look. "No, it
doesn’t." She came back and sat down on the couch.
"But at least you got your
money back," Fred said. "And it fits in with what I learned from the
networks last night. They think he’s a friendly spirit, probably
some sort of manifestation of the seasonal spirit. Apparently these
are fairly common, variations of Santa Claus being the most
familiar, but there are other ones, too. All benign. They think he’s
probably telling the truth about wanting to give you your heart’s
desire."
"Do they know how to get rid of
him?" she asked, and took a bite.
"No. Apparently no one’s ever
wanted to exorcise one." He pulled a piece of paper out of his
pocket. "I got a list of exorcism books to try, though, and this one
guy, Clarence, said the most important thing in an exorcism is to
know exactly what kind of spirit it is."
"How do we do that?" Lauren
asked with her mouth full.
"By their actions, Clarence
said. He said appearance doesn’t mean anything because seasonal
spirits are frequently in disguise. He said we need to write down
everything the spirit’s said and done, so I want you to tell me
exactly what he did." He took a pen and a notebook out of his jacket
pocket. "Everything from the first time you saw him."
"Just a minute." She finished
the last bite of sandwich and took a drink of the orange juice.
"Okay. He knocked on the door, and when I answered it, he told me he
was here to give me a Christmas present, and I told him I wasn’t
interested, and I shut the door and started into the bedroom to hang
up my dress and -- my dress!" she gasped and went tearing into the
bedroom.
"What’s the matter?" Fred said,
following her.
She flung the closet door open
and began pushing clothes madly along the bar. "If he’s transformed
this -- " She stopped pushing hangers. "I’ll kill him," she said and
lifted out a brownish collection of feathers and dried leaves.
"Benign!?" she said. "Do you call that benign?!"
Fred gingerly touched a brown
feather. "What was it?"
"A dress," she said. "My
beautiful black, off-the-shoulder, drop-dead dress."
"Really?" he said doubtfully.
He lifted up some of the brownish leaves. "I think it still is a
dress," he said. "Sort of."
She crumpled the leaves and
feathers against her and sank down on the bed. "All I wanted was to
go to the office party!"
"Don’t you have anything else
you can wear to the office party? What about that pretty red thing
you wore last year?"
She shook her head
emphatically. "Scott didn’t even notice it!"
"And that’s your heart’s
desire?" Fred said after a moment. "To have Scott Buckley notice you
at the office party?"
"Yes, and he would have, too!
It had sequins on it, and it fit perfectly!" She held out what might
have been a sleeve. Greenish-brown pods dangled from brownish strips
of bamboo. "And now he’s ruined it!"
She flung the dress on the
floor and stood up. "I don’t care what this Clarence person says. He
is not benign! And he is not trying to get me what I want for
Christmas. He is trying to ruin my life!"
She saw the expression on
Fred’s face and stopped. "I’m sorry," she said. "None of this is
your fault. You’ve been trying to help me."
"And I’ve been doing about as
well as your spirit," he said. "Look, there has to be some way to
get rid of him. Or at least get the dress back. Clarence said he
knew some transformation spells. I’ll go on to work and see what I
can find out."
He went out into the living
room and over to the door. "Maybe you can go back to the store and
see if they have another dress like it." He opened the
door.
"Okay." Lauren nodded. "I’m
sorry I yelled at you. And you have been a lot of help."
"Right," he said glumly, and
went out.
"Where’d you get that dress?"
Jimmy Stewart said to Donna Reed.
Lauren whirled around. The TV
was on. Donna Reed was showing Jimmy Stewart her new
dress.
"Where are you?" Lauren
demanded, looking at the couch. "I want you to change that dress
back right now!"
"Don’t you like it?" the spirit
said from the bedroom. "It’s completely biodegradable."
She stomped into the bedroom.
He was putting the dress on the hanger and making little "tsk"-ing
noises. "You have to be careful with natural fibers," he said
reprovingly.
"Change it back the way it was.
This instant."
"It was handmade by the
Yanomamo Indians," he said, smoothing down what might be the skirt.
"Do you realize that their natural habitat is being destroyed at the
rate of seven hundred and fifty acres a day?"
"I don’t care. I want my dress
back."
He carried the dress on its
hanger over to the chest. "It’s so interesting. Donna Reed knew
right away she was in love with Jimmy Stewart, but he was so busy
thinking about college and his new suitcase, he didn’t even know she
existed." He hung up the dress. "He practically had to be hit over
the head."
"I’ll hit you over the head if
you don’t change that dress back this instant, Spirit," she said,
looking around for something hard.
"Call me Chris," he said. "Did
you know sequins are made from nonrenewable resources?" and
disappeared as she swung the lamp.
"And good riddance," she
shouted to the air.
They had the dress in a size
three. Lauren put herself through the indignity of trying to get
into it and then went to work. The receptionist was watching Jimmy
Stewart standing on the bridge in the snow, and weeping into a
Kleenex. She handed Lauren her messages.
There were two memos from the
PMS Committee -- they were having a sleigh ride after work, and she
was supposed to bring cheese puffs to the office party. There wasn’t
a message from Fred.
"Oh!" the receptionist wailed.
"This is so sad!"
"I hate It’s a Wonderful
Life," Lauren said, and went up to her desk. "I hate Christmas,"
she said to Cassie.
"It’s normal to hate
Christmas," Cassie said, looking up from the book she was reading.
"This book, it’s called Let’s Forget Christmas, says it’s
because everyone has these unrealistic expectations. When they get
presents, they -- "
"Oh, that reminds me," Lauren
said. She rummaged in her bag and brought out Cassie’s present,
fingering it quickly to make sure it was still a stapler. It seemed
to be. She held it out to Cassie. "Merry Christmas."
"I don’t have yours wrapped
yet," Cassie said. "I don’t even have my wrapping paper bought yet.
The book says I’m suffering from an avoidance complex." She picked
up the package. "Do I have to open it now? I know it will be
something I love, and you won’t like what I got you half as well,
and I’ll feel incredibly guilty and inadequate."
"You don’t have to open it
now," Lauren said. "I just thought I’d better give it to you before
-- " She picked her messages up off her desk and started looking
through them. "Before I forgot. There haven’t been any messages from
Fred, have there?"
"Yeah. He was here about
fifteen minutes ago looking for you. He said to tell you the
networks hadn’t been any help, and he was going to try the library."
She looked sadly at the present. "It’s even wrapped great," she said
gloomily. "I went shopping for a dress for the office party last
night, and do you think I could find anything off-the-shoulder or
with sequins? I couldn’t even find anything I’d be caught dead in.
Did you know the rate of stress-related illness at Christmas is
seven times higher than the rest of the year?"
"I can relate to that," Lauren
said.
"No, you can’t. You didn’t end
up buying some awful gray thing with gold chains hanging all over
it. At least Scott will notice me. He’ll say, ’Hi, Cassie, are you
dressed as Marley’s ghost?’ And there you’ll be, looking fabulous in
black sequins -- "
"No, I won’t," Lauren
said.
"Why? Didn’t they hold it for
you?"
"It was... defective. Did Fred
want to talk to me?"
"I don’t know. He was on his
way out. He had to pick up his Santa Claus suit. Oh, my God," her
voice dropped to a whisper. "It’s Scott Buckley."
"Hi," Scott said to Lauren. "I
was wondering if you could go shopping with me tonight." Lauren
stared at him, so taken aback she couldn’t speak.
"When you couldn’t go last
night, I decided to cancel my date."
"Uh... I..." she
said.
"I thought we could buy the
presents and then have some dinner."
She nodded.
"Great," Scott said. "I’ll come
over to your apartment around six-thirty."
"No!" Lauren said. "I mean, why
don’t we go straight from work?"
"Good idea. I’ll come up here
and get you." He smiled meltingly and left.
"I think I’ll kill myself,"
Cassie said. "Did you know the rate of suicides at Christmas is four
times higher than the rest of the year? He is so cute," she said,
looking longingly down the hall after him. "There’s
Fred."
Lauren looked up. Fred was
coming toward her desk with a Santa Claus costume and a stack of
books. Lauren hurried across to him.
"This is everything the library
had on exorcisms and the occult," Fred said, transferring half of
the books to her arms. "I thought we could both go through them
today, and then get together tonight and compare notes."
"Oh, I can’t," Lauren said. "I
promised Scott I’d help him pick out the presents for the office
party tonight. I’m sorry. I could tell him I can’t."
"Your heart’s desire? Are you
kidding?" He started awkwardly piling the books back on his load.
"You go shopping. I’ll go through the books and let you know if I
come up with anything."
"Are you sure?" she said
guiltily. "I mean, you shouldn’t have to do all the
work."
"It’s my pleasure," he said. He
started to walk away and then stopped. "You didn’t tell the spirit
Scott was your heart’s desire, did you?"
"Of course not.
Why?"
"I was just wondering...
nothing. Never mind." He walked off down the hall. Lauren went back
to her desk.
"Did you know the rate of
depression at Christmas is sixteen times higher than the rest of the
year?" Cassie said. She handed Lauren a package.
"What’s this?"
"It’s from your Secret
Santa."
Lauren opened it. It was a
large book entitled, It’s a Wonderful Life The Photo Album.
On the cover, Jimmy Stewart was looking depressed.
"I figure it’ll take a half
hour or so to pick out the presents," Scott said, leading her past
two inflatable palm trees into The Upscale oasis. "And then we can
have some supper and get acquainted." He lay down on a massage
couch. "What do you think about this?"
"How many presents do we have
to buy?" Lauren asked, looking around the store. There were a lot of
inflatable palm trees, and a jukebox, and several life-size
cardboard cutouts of Malcolm Forbes and Leona Helmsley. Against the
far wall were two high-rise aquariums and a bank of televisions with
neon-outlined screens.
"Seventy-two." He got up off
the massage couch, handed her the list of employees and went over to
a display of brown boxes tied with twine. "What about these? They’re
handmade Yanomamo Christmas ornaments."
"No," Lauren said. "How much
money do we have to spend.?"
"The PMS Committee budgeted six
thousand, and there was five hundred left in the Sunshine fund. We
can spend..." He picked up a pocket calculator in the shape of
Donald Trump and punched several buttons. "Ninety dollars per
person, including tax. How about pet costume jewelry?" He held up a
pair of rhinestone earrings for German shepherds.
"We got those last year,"
Lauren said. She picked up a digital umbrella and put it back
down.
"How about a car fax?" Scott
said. "No, wait. This, this is it!"
Lauren turned around. Scott was
holding up what looked like a gold cordless phone. "It’s an
investment pager," he said, punching keys. "See, it gives you the
Dow Jones, treasury bonds, interest rates. Isn’t it
perfect?"
"Well," Lauren said.
"See, this is the hostile
takeover alarm, and every time the Federal Reserve adjusts the
interest rate it beeps."
Lauren read the tag. "
’Portable Plutocrat. $74.99.’ "
"Great," Scott said. "We’ll
have money left over."
"To invest," Lauren
said.
He went off to see if they had
seventy-two of them, and Lauren wandered over to the bank of
televisions.
There was a videotape of
Miracle on 34th Street lying on top of the VCR/shower
massage. Lauren looked around to see if anyone was watching and then
popped the Wonderful Life tape out and stuck in
Miracle.
A dozen Edmund Gwenns dressed
as Macy’s Santa Claus appeared on the screens, listening to twelve
store managers tell them which overstocked toys to push.
Scott came over, lugging four
shopping bags. "They come gift wrapped," he said happily, showing
her a Portable Plutocrat wrapped in green paper with gold dollar
signs. "Which gives us a free evening."
"That’s what I’ve been fighting
against for years," a dozen Edmund Gwenns said, tearing a dozen
lists to bits, "the way they commercialize Christmas."
"What I thought," Scott said
when they got in the car, "was that instead of going out for supper,
we’d take these over to your apartment and order in."
"Order in?" Lauren said,
clutching the bag of Portable Plutocrats on her lap to
her.
"I know a great Italian place
that delivers. Angel hair pasta, wine, everything. Or, if you’d
rather, we could run by the grocery store and pick up some stuff to
cook."
"Actually, my kitchen’s kind of
a mess," she said. There is a Christmas tree in it, she thought,
with organic byproducts hanging on it.
He pulled up outside her
apartment building. "Then Italian it is." He got out of the car and
began unloading shopping bags. "You like prosciutto? They have a
great melon and prosciutto."
"Actually, the whole
apartment’s kind of a disaster," Lauren said, following him up the
stairs. "You know, wrapping presents and everything. There are
ribbons and tags and paper all over the floor -- "
"Great," he said, stopping in
front of her door. "We have to put tags on the presents,
anyway."
"They don’t need tags, do
they?" Lauren said desperately. "I mean, they’re all exactly
alike."
"It personalizes them," he
said, "it shows the gift was chosen especially for them." He looked
expectantly at the key in her hand and then at the door.
She couldn’t hear the TV, which
was a good sign. And every time Fred had come over, the spirit had
disappeared. So all I have to do is keep him out of the kitchen, she
thought.
She opened the door and Scott
pushed past her and dumped the shopping bags on the coffee table.
"Sorry," he said. "Those were really heavy." He straightened up and
looked around the living room. There was no sign of the Spirit, but
there were three Evian water bottles on the coffee table. "This
doesn’t look too messy. You should see my apartment. I’ll bet your
kitchen’s neater than mine, too."
Lauren walked swiftly over to
the kitchen and pulled the door shut. "I wouldn’t bet on it. Aren’t
there still some more presents to bring up?"
"Yeah. I’ll go get them. Shall
I call the Italian place first?"
"No," Lauren said, standing
with her back against the kitchen door. "Why don’t you bring the
bags up first’?"
"Okay," he said, smiling
meltingly, and went out.
Lauren leaped to the door, put
the deadbolt and the chain on, and then ran back to the kitchen and
opened the door. The tree was still there. She pulled the door
hastily to and walked rapidly into the bedroom. He wasn’t there, or
in the bathroom. "Thank you," she breathed, looking heavenward, and
went back in the living room.
The TV was on. Edmund Gwenn was
shouting at the store psychologist.
"You know, you were right," the
spirit said. He was stretched out on the couch, wearing a "Save the
Black-Footed Ferret" T-shirt and jeans. "It’s not a bad movie. Of
course, it’s not as good as It’s a Wonderful Life, but I like
the way everything works out at the end."
"What are you doing here?" she
demanded, glancing anxiously at the door.
"Watching Miracle on 34th
Street," he said, pointing at the screen. Edmund Gwenn was
brandishing his cane at the store psychiatrist. "I like the part
where Edmund Gwenn asks Natalie Wood what she wants for Christmas,
and she shows him the picture of the house."
Lauren picked up Fred’s video
and brandished it at him. "Fine. Then you can change Fred’s video
back."
"Okay," he said and did
something. She looked at Fred’s video. It showed Edmund Gwenn
hugging Natalie Wood in front of a yellow moon with Santa Claus’s
sleigh and reindeer flying across it. Lauren put the video hastily
down on the coffee table.
"Thank you," she said. "And my
dress."
"Natalie Wood doesn’t really
want a house, of course. What she really wants is for Maureen O’Hara
to marry John Payne. The house is just a symbol for what she really
wants."
On the TV Edmund Gwenn rapped
the store psychologist smartly on the forehead with his
cane.
There was a knock on the door.
"It’s me," Scott said.
"I also like the part where
Edmund Gwenn yells at the store manager for pushing merchandise
nobody wants. Christmas presents should be something the person
wants. Aren’t you going to answer the door?"
"Aren’t you going to
disappear?" she whispered.
"Disappear?" he said
incredulously. "The movie isn’t over. And besides, I still haven’t
gotten you what you want for Christmas." He did something, and a
bowl of trail mix appeared on his stomach.
Scott knocked again.
Lauren went over to the door
and opened it two inches.
"It’s me," Scott said. "Why do
you have the chain on?"
"I..." She looked hopefully at
Chris. He was eating trail mix and watching Maureen O’Hara bending
over the store psychologist, trying to wake him up.
"Scott, I’m sorry, but I think
I’d better take a rain check on supper."
He looked bewildered. And cute.
"But I thought..." he said.
So did I, she thought. But I
have a spirit on my couch who’s perfectly capable of turning you
into a Yanomamo by-product.
"The Italian take-out sounds
great," she said, "but it’s kind of late, and we’ve both got to go
to work tomorrow."
"Tomorrow’s
Saturday."
"Uh... I meant go to work on
wrapping presents. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, and I haven’t even
started my wrapping. And I have to make cheese puffs for the office
party and wash my hair and..."
"Okay, okay, I get the
message," he said. "I’ll just bring in the presents and then
leave."
She thought of telling him to
leave them in the hall, and then closed the door a little and took
the chain off the door.
Go away! she thought at the spirit, who was
eating trail mix.
She opened the door far enough
so she could slide out, and pulled it to behind her. "Thanks for a
great evening," she said, taking the shopping bags from Scott. "Good
night."
"Good night," he said, still
looking bewildered. He started down the hall. At the stairs he
turned and smiled meltingly.
I’m going to kill him, Lauren
thought, waving back, and took the shopping bags inside.
The spirit wasn’t there. The
trail mix was still on the couch, and the TV was still
on.
"Come back here!" she shouted.
"You little rat! You have ruined my dress and my date, and you’re
not going to ruin anything else! You’re going to change back my
dress and my Christmas cards, and you are going to get that tree out
of my kitchen right now!"
Her voice hung in the air. She
sat down on the couch, still holding the shopping bags. On the TV,
Edmund Gwenn was sitting in Bellevue, staring at the
wall.
"At least Scott finally noticed
me," she said, and set the shopping bags down on the coffee table.
They rattled.
"Oh, no!" she said. "Not the
plutocrats!"
"The problem is," Fred said,
closing the last of the books on the occult, "that we can’t exorcise
him if we don’t know which seasonal spirit he is, and he doesn’t fit
the profiles of any of these. He must be in disguise."
"I don’t want to exorcise him,"
Lauren said. "I want to kill him."
"Even if we did manage to
exorcise him, there’d be no guarantee that the things he’s changed
would go back to their original state."
"And I’d be stuck with
explaining what happened to six thousand dollars’ worth of Christmas
presents."
"Those portable plutocrats cost
six thousand dollars?"
"$5995.36."
Fred gave a low whistle. "Did
your spirit say why he didn’t like them? Other than the obvious, I
mean. That they were nonbiodegradable or something?"
"No. He didn’t even notice
them. He was watching Miracle on 34th Street, and he was
talking about how he liked the way things worked out at the end and
the part about the house."
"Nothing about Christmas
presents?"
"I don’t remember." She sank
down on the couch. "Yes, I do. He said he liked the part where
Edmund Gwenn yelled at the store manager for talking people into
buying things they didn’t want. He said Christmas presents should be
something the person wanted."
"Well, that explains why he
transformed the plutocrats then," Fred said. "It probably also means
there’s no way you can talk him into changing them back. And I’ve
got to have something to pass out at the office party, or you’ll be
in trouble. So we’ll just have to come up with replacement
presents."
"Replacement presents?" Lauren
said. "How? It’s ten o’clock, the office party’s tomorrow night, and
how do we know he won’t transform the replacement presents once
we’ve got them?"
"We’ll buy people what they
want. Was six thousand all the money you and Scott had?"
"No," Lauren said, rummaging
through one of the shopping bags. "PMS budgeted sixty-five
hundred."
"How much have you got
left?"
She pulled out a sheaf of
papers. "He didn’t transform the purchase orders or the receipt,"
she said, looking at them. "The investment pagers cost $5895.36. We
have $604.64 left." She handed him the papers. "That’s eight dollars
and thirty-nine cents apiece."
He looked at the receipt
speculatively and then into the shopping bag. "I don’t suppose we
could take these back and get a refund from the Upscale
Oasis?"
"They’re not going to give us
$5895.36 for seventy-two ’Save the Ozone Layer’ buttons," Lauren
said. "And there’s nothing we can buy for eight dollars that will
convince PMS it cost sixty-five hundred. And where am I going to get
the money to pay back the difference?"
"I don’t think you’ll have to.
Remember when the spirit changed your Christmas cards into the tree?
He didn’t really. He returned them somehow to the store and got a
refund. Maybe he’s done the same thing with the Plutocrats and the
money will turn up on your coffee table tomorrow
morning."
"And if it doesn’t?"
"We’ll worry about that
tomorrow. Right now we’ve got to come up with presents to pass out
at the party."
"Like what?"
"Staplers."
"Staplers?"
"Like the one you got Cassie.
Everybody in my department’s always losing their staplers, too. And
their tape dispensers. It’s an office party. We’ll buy everybody
something they want for the office."
"But how will we know what that
is? There are seventy-two people on this list."
"We’ll call the department
heads and ask them, and then we’ll go shopping." He stood up.
"Where’s your phone book?"
"Next to the tree." She
followed him into the kitchen. "How are we going to go shopping?
It’s ten o’clock at night."
"Bizmart’s open till eleven,"
he said, opening the phone book, "and the grocery store’s open all
night. We’ll get as many of the presents as we can tonight and the
rest tomorrow morning, and that still gives us all afternoon to get
them wrapped. How much wrapping paper do you have?"
"Lots. I bought it half-price
last year when I decided this Christmas was going to be different. A
stapler doesn’t seem like much of a present."
"It does if it’s what you
wanted." He reached for the phone.
It rang. Fred picked up the
receiver and handed it to Lauren.
"Oh, Lauren," Cassie’s voice
said. "I just opened your present, and I love it! It’s exactly what
I wanted!"
"Really?" Lauren
said.
"It’s perfect! I was so
depressed about Christmas and the office party and still not having
my shopping done. I wasn’t even going to open it, but in Let’s
Forget Christmas it said you should open your presents early so
they wouldn’t ruin Christmas morning, and I did, and it’s wonderful!
I don’t even care whether Scott notices me or not! Thank
you!"
"You’re welcome," Lauren said,
but Cassie had already hung up. She looked at Fred. "That was
Cassie. You were right about people liking staplers." She handed him
the phone. "You call the department heads. I’ll get my
coat."
He took the phone and began to
punch in numbers, and then put it down. "What exactly did the spirit
say about the ending of Miracle on 34th Street?"
"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’ buttons
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 Brazilian rainforest by-product." 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. Document Control wanted
scissors.
Fred 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 Saturday 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 even had a 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, 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. 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 in the kitchen. She
could hear forest-thrashing 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 glasses 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, and hit play. He came and sat down beside Lauren. She
handed him the wrapped box of cough drops, but he didn’t take it. 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 snatched 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 around
the 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 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 assume they can’t have the
things other people have."
The telephone rang. Lauren
reached for it and then realized it was on TV.
"Oh, hello, Sam," Donna Reed
said, looking at Jimmy Stewart.
"Can you help me with this
ribbon?" Fred said.
"Sure," Lauren said. She
scooted closer to him and put her finger on the crossed ribbon to
hold it taut.
Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed
were standing very close together, listening to the telephone. The
voice on the phone was saying something about soybeans.
Fred still hadn’t tied the
knot. Lauren glanced at him. He was looking at the TV,
too.
Jimmy Stewart was looking at
Donna Reed, his face nearly touching her hair. Donna Reed looked at
him and then away. The voice from the phone was saying something
about the chance of a lifetime, but it was obvious neither of them
were hearing a word. Donna Reed looked up at him. His lips almost
touched her forehead. They didn’t seem to be breathing.
Lauren realized she wasn’t
either. She looked at Fred. He was holding the two ends of ribbon,
one in each hand, and looking down at her.
"The knot," she said. "You
haven’t tied it."
"Oh," he said.
"Sorry."
Jimmy Stewart dropped the phone
with a clatter and grabbed Donna Reed by both arms. He began shaking
her, yelling at her, and then suddenly she was wrapped in his arms,
and he was smothering her with kisses.
"The knot," Fred said. "You
have to pull your finger out."
She looked blankly at him and
then down at the package. He had tied the knot over her finger,
which was still pressing against the wrapping paper.
"Oh. Sorry," she said, and
pulled her finger free. "You were right. It does have its
moments."
He yanked the knot tight.
"Yeah," he said. He reached for the spool of ribbon and began
chopping off lengths for the bow. On the screen Donna Reed and Jimmy
Stewart were being pelted with rice.
"No. You were right," he said.
"He is too self-sacrificing." He waved the scissors at the screen.
"In a minute he’s going to give up his honeymoon to save the
building and loan. It’s a wonder he ever asked Donna Reed to marry
him. It’s a wonder he didn’t try to fix her up with that guy on the
phone."
The phone rang. Lauren looked
at the screen, thinking it must be in the movie, but Jimmy Stewart
was kissing Donna Reed in a taxicab.
"It’s the phone," Fred
said.
Lauren scrambled up and reached
for it.
"Hi," Scott said.
"Oh, hello, Scott," Lauren
said, looking at Fred.
"I was wondering about the
office party tonight," Scott said. "Would you like to go with me? I
could come get you and we could take the presents over
together."
"Uh... I..." Lauren said. She
put her hand over the receiver. "It’s Scott. What am I going to tell
him about the presents?"
Fred motioned her to give him
the phone. "Scott," he said. "Hi. It’s Fred Hatch. Yeah, Santa
Claus. Listen, we ran into a problem with the presents."
Lauren closed her
eyes.
"We got a call from the Upscale
Oasis that investment pagers were being recalled by the Federal
Safety Commission."
Lauren opened her eyes. Fred
smiled at her. "Yeah. For excessive cupidity."
Lauren grinned.
"But there’s nothing to worry
about," Fred said. "We replaced them. We’re wrapping them right now.
No, it was no trouble. I was happy to help. Yeah, I’ll tell her." He
hung up. "Scott will be here to take you to the office party at
seven-thirty," he said. "It looks like you’re going to get your
heart’s desire after all."
"Yeah," Lauren said, looking at
the TV. On the screen, the building and loan was going
under.
They finished wrapping the pair
of scissors at six-thirty, and Fred went back to his apartment to
change clothes and get his Santa Claus costume. Lauren packed the
presents in three of the Upscale Oasis shopping bags, said sternly,
"Don’t you dare touch these," to the empty couch, and went to get
ready.
She showered and did her hair,
and then went into the bedroom to see if the spirit had biodegraded
her red dress, or, by some miracle, brought the black
off-the-shoulder one back. He hadn’t.
She put on the red dress and
went back in the living room. It was only a little after seven. She
turned on the TV and put Fred’s video in the VCR. She hit play.
Edmund Gwenn was giving the doctor the X-ray machine he’d always
wanted.
Lauren picked up one of the
shopping bags and felt the top pair of scissors to make sure they
weren’t Yanomamo ornaments. There was an envelope stuck between two
of the packages. Inside was a check for $5895.36. It was made out to
the Children’s Hospital fund.
She shook her head, smiling,
and put the check back in the envelope.
On TV Maureen O’Hara and John
Payne were watching Natalie Wood run through an empty house and out
the back door to look for her swing. They looked seriously at each
other. Lauren held her breath. John Payne moved forward and kissed
Maureen O’Hara.
Someone knocked on the door.
"That’s Scott," Lauren said to John Payne, and waited till Maureen
O’Hara had finished telling him she loved him before she went to
open the door.
It was Fred, carrying a
foil-covered plate. He was wearing the same sweater and pants he’d
worn to wrap the presents. "Cheese puffs," he said. "I figured you
couldn’t get to your stove." He looked seriously at her. "I wouldn’t
worry about not having your black dress to dazzle Scott
with."
He went over and set the cheese
puffs on the coffee table. "You need to take the foil off and heat
them in a microwave for two minutes on high. Tell PMS to put the
presents in Santa’s bag, and I’ll be there at
eleven-thirty."
"Aren’t you going to the
party?"
"Office parties are your idea
of fun, not mine," he said. "Besides, Miracle on 34th Street’s
on at eight. It may be the only chance I have to watch
it."
"But I wanted you."
There was a knock on the door.
"That’s Scott," Lauren said.
"Well," Fred said, "if the
spirit doesn’t do something in the next fifteen seconds, you’ll have
your heart’s desire in spite of him." He opened the door. "Come on
in," he said. "Lauren and the presents are all ready." He handed two
of the shopping bags to Scott.
"I really appreciate your
helping Lauren and me with all this," Scott said.
Fred handed the other shopping
bag to Lauren. "It was my pleasure."
"I wish you were coming with
us," she said.
"And give up a chance of seeing
the real Santa Claus?" He held the door open. "You two had better
get going before something happens."
"What do you mean?" Scott said,
alarmed. "Do you think these presents might be recalled,
too?"
Lauren looked hopefully at the
couch and then the TV. On the screen Jimmy Stewart was standing on
the bridge in the snow, getting ready to kill himself.
"Afraid not," Fred
said.
It was snowing by the time they
pulled into the parking lot at work. "It was really selfless of Fred
to help you wrap all those presents," Scott said, holding the lobby
door open for Lauren. "He’s a nice guy."
"Yes," Lauren said. "He
is."
"Hey, look at that!" Scott
said. He pointed at the security monitor. "It’s a Wonderful Life.
My favorite movie!"
On the monitor Jimmy Stewart
was running through the snow, shouting, "Merry
Christmas!"
"Scott," Lauren said, "I can’t
go to the party with you."
"Just a minute, okay?" Scott
said, staring at the screen. "This is my favorite part." He set the
shopping bags down on the receptionist’s desk and leaned his elbows
on it. "This is the part where Jimmy Stewart finds out what a
wonderful life he’s had."
"You have to take me home,"
Lauren said.
There was a gust of cold air
and snow. Lauren turned around.
"You forgot your cheese puffs,"
Fred said, holding out the foil-covered plate to Lauren.
"There’s such a thing as being
too self-sacrificing, you know," Lauren said.
He held the plate out to her.
"That’s what the spirit said."
"He came back?" She shot a
glance at the shopping bags.
"Yeah. Right after you left.
Don’t worry about the presents. He said he thought the staplers were
a great idea. He also said not to worry about getting a Christmas
present for your sister."
"My sister!" Lauren said,
clapping her hand to her mouth. "I completely forgot about
her."
"He said since you didn’t like
it, he sent her the Yanomamo dress."
"She’ll love it," Lauren
said.
"He also said it was a wonder
Jimmy Stewart ever got Donna Reed, he was so busy giving everybody
else what they wanted," he said, looking seriously at
her.
"He’s right," Lauren said. "Did
he also tell you Jimmy Stewart was incredibly stupid for wanting to
go off to college when Donna Reed was right there in front of
him?"
"He mentioned it."
"What a great movie!" Scott
said, turning to Lauren. "Ready to go up?"
"No," Lauren said. "I’m going
with Fred to see a movie." She took the cheese puffs from Fred and
handed them to Scott.
"What am I supposed to do with
these?"
"Take the foil off," Fred said,
"and put them in a microwave for two minutes."
"But you’re my date," Scott
said. "Who am I supposed to go with?"
There was a gust of cold air
and snow. Everyone turned around.
"How do I look?" Cassie said,
taking off her coat.
"Wow!" Scott said. "You look
terrific!"
Cassie spun around, her
shoulders bare, the sequins glittering on her black dress. "Lauren
gave it to me for Christmas," she said happily. "I love Christmas,
don’t you?"
"I love that dress,"
Scott said.
"He also told me," Fred said,
"that his favorite thing in Miracle on 34th Street was Santa
Claus’s being in disguise."
"He wasn’t in disguise," Lauren
said. "Edmund Gwenn told everybody he was Santa Claus."
Fred held up a correcting
finger. "He told everyone his name was Kris Kringle."
"Chris," Lauren
said.
"Oh, I love this part," Cassie
said.
Lauren looked at her. She was
standing next to Scott, watching Jimmy Stewart standing next to
Donna Reed and singing "Auld Lang Syne."
"He makes all sorts of trouble
for everyone," Fred said. "He turns Christmas upside down --
"
"Completely disrupts Maureen
O’Hara’s life," Lauren said.
"But by the end, everything’s
worked out, the doctor has his X-ray machine, Natalie Wood has her
house -- "
"Maureen O’Hara has Fred --
"
"And no one’s quite sure how he
did it, or if he did anything."
"Or if he had the whole thing
planned from the beginning." She looked seriously at Fred. "He told
me I only thought I knew what I wanted for Christmas."
Fred moved toward her. "He told
me just because something seems impossible doesn’t mean a miracle
can’t happen."
"What a great ending!" Cassie
said, sniffling. "It’s a Wonderful Life is my favorite
movie."
"Mine, too," Scott said. "Do
you know how to heat up cheese puffs?" He turned to Lauren and Fred.
"Cut that out, you two, we’ll be late for the party."
"We’re not going," Fred said,
taking Lauren’s arm. They started for the door. "Miracle’s on
at eight."
"But you can’t leave," Scott
said. "What about all these presents? Who’s going to pass them
out?"
There was a gust of cold air
and snow. "Ho ho ho," Santa Claus said.
"Isn’t that your costume,
Fred?" Lauren said.
"Yes. It has to be back at the
rental place by Monday morning," he said to Santa Claus. "And no
changing it into rainforest by-products."
"Merry Christmas!" Santa
Claus said.
"I like the way things worked
out at the end," Lauren said.
"All we need is a cane standing
in the corner," Fred said.
"I have no idea what you’re
talking about," Santa Claus said. "Where are all these presents I’m
supposed to pass out?"
"Right here," Scott said. He
handed one of the shopping bags to Santa Claus.
"Plastic shopping bags," Santa
Claus said, making a "tsk"-ing sound. "You should be using recycled
paper."
"Sorry," Scott said. He handed
the cheese puffs to Cassie and picked up the other two shopping
bags. "Ready, Cassie?"
"We can’t go yet," Cassie said,
gazing at the security monitor. "Look, It’s a Wonderful Life
is just starting." On the screen Jimmy Stewart’s brother
was falling through the ice. "This is my favorite part," she
said.
"Mine, too," Scott said, and
went over to stand next to her.
Santa Claus squinted curiously
at the monitor for a moment and then shook his head. "Miracle on
34th Street’s a much better movie, you know," he said
reprovingly. "More realistic." |
