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Angie really didn’t want to admit how much wrapping paper she had already wasted.
The pieces of wrinkled, colourful paper lay abandoned near her wastebasket, in a pile that accumulated more with every passing minute.The arrangement of presents that she had yet to wrap were sitting in another corner. She eyed them with apprehension, wondering whether she could ever get them looking at least presentable by Christmas.
God, why had she ended up buying such weirdly-shaped packages? If they were square, she might have been able to handle the task. Maybe she would have even been able to make it look pretty.
She had other talents, Angie reassured herself, as she unrolled another swath of wrapping paper. She could sing. She could act. She could make a really good cup of coffee. In the big scheme of things, her inability to wrap gifts was nothing. Insignificant.
That didn’t mean she had to accept it.
More determined than ever, she held the wrapping paper in place on the baseball bat that she was attempting to cover, using her free hand to attempt to tear a piece of tape off of the role. It refused to rip, and in frustration Angie let go of the wrapping paper. The thin paper slipped off of the bat and to the floor, and Angie groaned, sitting back on her heels and running her hands through her hair.
Gathering herself, she tore a large piece of tape off of the holder and stuck it to her hand for safekeeping. She managed to get the wrapping paper arranged around the bat again, and before anything could go wrong, she quickly fastened it with her tape. Glad that she had completed this small step, she turned the baseball bat so that she could get an idea of how she was going to tackle the ends, which were still uncovered.
Frowning, she attempted to fold the extra wrapping paper at the end over itself, which worked for the first couple of seconds. Then, she tried to do the same thing with other pieces, and the whole thing started to look like a crumpled mess.
Almost giving up, Angie did the same thing with the other end of the baseball bat and held it up to examine it, hoping for the best.
It was awful.
There was nothing for it. Her presents were just going to have to go unwrapped.
No. There had to be some solution. Was there such thing as a gift wrapping company? Gift wrappers for hire?
Or, even better, there had to be someone in the building who could help her. Discarding the wrapping paper on the floor, Angie got to her feet and stepped out of her apartment.
The Griffith Hotel had not been excessively decorated for Christmas. Ms. Fry, never one for unnecessary frivolity, had opted for a simple tree at the end of each hall. Within the girls’ rooms, though, Christmas spirit seemed to be overflowing. The scent of evergreen seemed to be lingering, faintly, everywhere that Angie went. Helen’s room had topped them all: once she had finished decorating, the entire floor had visited her room to admire the colourful lights and bulbs.
Angie hadn’t done much decorating at all. Yet. She’d find time later… after she finished wrapping presents.
Making her way to 3E, she knocked at Peggy’s door, half-expecting to get no reply. Peggy seemed to be absent most evenings. But to Angie’s surprise, it didn’t take long until the door was opening, and Peggy appeared.
“Angie!” She said, warmly, and instantly Angie felt just the tiniest bit lighter.
“English,” she said dramatically, tugging on the other woman’s hand, “I need your help. I’m desperate.”
“Are you?” Peggy’s voice was a mixture of amusement and concern. “What’s the matter?”
“I can’t wrap presents. It’s a mess.”
Peggy glanced behind her. “Well, I could spare a couple of minutes.”
Angie felt herself light up. “Perfect.”
The door fell shut behind Peggy, and Angie led the way back to her own room. There was no way that this could go wrong, now. Peggy was the type of woman who always seemed to be in immaculate shape: her hair sleek, her lipstick perfectly applied, her clothes unwrinkled. By all rights, Angie thought, her gift-wrapping abilities should be equally flawless.
Angie was wrong.
Ten minutes later, she was holding up Peggy’s attempt at wrapping the baseball bat and failing to hide her grin.
Peggy closed her eyes, and exhaled through a smile. “Go on. I know you want to comment on it.”
Angie giggled, attempting to smooth the crushed wrapping paper. “This is worse than me, Pegs.”
“You’re the one who came to me for help!”
“Okay. You know what? We’re going to fix this.” Angie pulled the roll of wrapping paper towards her, and gestured at Peggy to pick up the baseball bat. “My brother is going to receive the most beautifully wrapped present in all of New York, and you and I are going to do that.”
Peggy pulled the wrapping paper off of the wooden bat with a loud ripping noise. She placed the bat between them, and Angie, very carefully, covered it with wrapping paper. Holding the ends together, she nodded at Peggy, who picked up the scissors and cut the paper to the right size.
“Grab the tape,” Angie told her, using her free hand to point to roll sitting just a couple feet away.
Peggy abided, reaching out for the tape and then sitting up straight again, ripping tiny pieces off and pressing them to the paper. As soon as the two edges of the paper seemed to be sufficiently joined, Angie let go and began helping Peggy arrange the tape on the wrappings. Painstakingly, they finished wrapping, with only mild amounts of wrinkled paper.
“There,” said Angie, finally satisfied.
Peggy shook her head. “That took longer than I might have expected.”
“Yeah, well,” Angie said, pointing to the stack of presents that she still needed to wrap, “We aren’t done yet.”
Peggy looked followed Angie’s gaze and laughed. “I suppose we better get started.”
It took them a good couple of hours to finish the task (though, admittedly, they found themselves getting distracted occasionally and had to force themselves to continue wrapping). As soon as they had finished with the last gift, Peggy stood up and stretched, before collapsing face-down on Angie’s bed. Angie joined her, sitting next to her.
“I never want to see another present in my life,” Peggy told her, rolling over so that there was more room for Angie. Her curls were coming undone, and Angie was struck by the sudden impulse to run her fingers through them. Peggy’s dark brown eyes watched her, filled with fondness.
Angie broke eye contact. “You won’t be saying that when Christmas arrives.”
Peggy sat up, supporting herself with her arm and tucking her hair behind her ear. “That’s true.”
“Honestly, though,” said Angie, smiling at Peggy, “Thanks for helping out. I’d probably have given up completely if it wasn’t for you.”
“Anything for you.”
When Angie looked back to Peggy, she was wearing such a sincere expression that Angie found herself fighting a blush. Tentatively, she reached out to squeeze Peggy’s hand, and Peggy moved the slightest bit closer.
“Angie,” said Peggy, and Angie could feel Peggy’s breath dance across her skin. “Can I --”
Angie was already reaching her hand up so that it could slide to the side of Peggy’s neck, her skin warm against her palm. Peggy’s hand came to rest on her waist, and then they were only a breath apart, and then there was no distance at all.
This, Angie thought, was the best gift that she could have possibly have gotten for Christmas.
And it needed no wrapping at all.