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The truth of that unleashed an uncomfortable pressure inside her chest.
As Kristina retrieved her purse from the kitchen counter, a packet of blue papers fluttered to the floor—the informational flyer she’d grabbed last night when she’d stopped into the Art Factory to fill out employment forms. She hadn’t known they offered a whole program of therapeutic classes specifically for veterans—in pretty much every form of creative expression, but given the large veteran community in Northern Virginia, she wasn’t surprised.
On impulse, she’d grabbed the packet for Noah. No doubt he was going to laugh his ass off at her for even suggesting he consider taking an art class, of all things, but her gut told her he needed some sort of outlet for everything he was dealing with.
The hole in the wall of his shower seemed to prove that.
Maybe art could provide that outlet for him the way it did for her. She retrieved the pages and placed them back on the counter.
An hour later, she was pushing a cart around the kitchen section at IKEA. She turned into the utensils aisle and…bingo. She grabbed the superheroes spatula set off the hook. It had four spatulas, and the flat parts were made out of the heads of the Hulk, Spiderman, Ironman, and Captain America. Kristina chuckled as she dropped them in the cart. What other fun guy stuff could she find?
A set of slotted spoons with eyeball- and moustache-shaped holes. A pair of wooden spoons that had drumstick tips on one end. A cheese grater shaped like an electric guitar. A measuring cup and spoon set that, when all stacked together, looked like the Star Wars robot, R2D2. An Army man bottle cap opener. A pizza cutter shaped like a unicycle being ridden by a monkey.
Kristina grinned, totally digging Sweden’s sense of humor.
Next, she found a kitchen knife set—instead of a traditional square wooden block to store them, it had a circular block with a plastic man tied to it spread-eagle. When resting in the block, the knives appeared to have been thrown into it, circus-performer style. Next to that she found a rectangular cutting board that read, “DANGER: MEN COOKING.” Kristina chuckled as she dropped those into the cart.
She rounded to the next aisle and laughed out loud. Salt-and-pepper shakers. Lots of them. Humping pigs. An old man sitting on a toilet. A dog and a fire hydrant. A bent-over gnome whose naked butt cheeks were the shakers.
That one was kinda disturbing, actually.
Further down the display, Kristina found the perfect set—ninjas, one black, one white, only their eyeballs showing under their ninja get-ups.
Okay, she totally hadn’t set out to buy this much, but now she was having too much fun to stop, especially when she imagined Noah’s reaction to each thing. Not to mention, but who could possibly choose between superhero spatulas and ninja salt-and-paper shakers?
Not her, that was for sure. Besides, she’d do or buy just another anything to make Noah smile.
Back home again, she made a turkey sandwich for lunch and settled down to wrap everything. Which was harder than it sounded. Some people—like her mother—could wrap presents beautifully. Square, flat edges to the paper, hidden seams, tightly tied ribbon.
And then there was Kristina. Whose attempts at wrapping paper always seemed to make it look like she’d balled the paper around the item and layered enough tape on it to make it hold together.
This was why she usually put everything in a gift bag with tissue paper. Seriously, gift bags were the greatest invention in modern history.
Or maybe that was computers. Whatever.
The point was, she didn’t want to use gift bags here because she wanted Noah to have the fun of tearing everything open. The anticipation of doing more than pulling a folded piece of loose tissue out of a bag to find his present.
But as she sat on her living room carpet looking at the literal mountain of kitchen supplies she’d bought, she was rethinking the wisdom of her plan. At least she’d bought a few extra rolls of tape from the gift wrap aisle.
She fortified herself with a few bites of her sandwich and chips, and then picked an easy, normal-shaped item to start. The cutting board. Really. How hard could that be to wrap?
She rolled out a big sheet of paper and laid the cutting board on it, then cut off a piece that looked big enough to wrap around it. She frowned at the cut, which was about as straight as a wet noodle. No worries. She could hide that. Besides, she could hardly be blamed when her hand was still so achy. All true. Except, when she wrapped the two sides around the board to meet in the middle, the paper was too short on the bottom half of the board.
“Freaking wrapping paper,” she muttered as she cut another small piece off the roll and taped it to the board. She wrapped the paper around it again. “There,” she said proudly. Her patchwork filled the gap perfectly. Holding the paper in place with one hand, she eyed the tape dispenser.
This was where things got tricky. Leaning over, she held the paper with her elbow so she’d have two hands to get a piece of tape—which promptly got all crinkly and stuck together. She flicked it away and got another. It applied nice and flat to the paper.
“Ha!” She threw her arms into the air in victory, then celebrated by polishing off the rest of her sandwich.
Now, for the ends. Kristina grabbed the loose paper on one ended and folded it over the board. Five pieces of tape later and that end was secured. Same on the other end and—bam! Done.
Kristina lifted the package and frowned. The ends looked like rolled-up newspaper. She turned it over. Oh. Apparently, she hadn’t pulled the paper taut either. It was all bubbled and loose.
“So what,” she said, setting it aside. The paper had a bacon design. Who was going to notice if the bacon was flat and square? Right?
An hour later, Kristina has two cuts on her fingers from the tape dispenser, a sheered-off fingernail from the scissors, and a steady ache in her hurt hand. Which all spoke to why she taught language arts and not art art. And why all her bulletin board decorations came pre-made from the dollar store. Her worst eighth-grade artist was better than her. By a lot.
Still, the pile of presents looked spectacular. Her best wrapping job ever.
