Item Forty-One

We stood in the corner of the bedroom in the old house at the end of Pick Street. Anthony put his hands in his pocket and looked at me. “Forty-one?”

Item number Forty-One was a large, bulky, and well, ugly wardrobe. It looked like at one point it had a natural wood stain, but had been painted over in so many colors it looked like a modge-podge of technicolor vomit. But something about the mismatched door knobs to the scratches on the wood showing the layers of paint made me absolutely fall in love with it.

“Forty-one,” I nodded.

People moved around us looking at the other items in the estate sale; large, silver pieces of dining sets; old portraits of people from another century; swords from a war too old for any of us to remember; to moth-bitten clothing and jewelry from the finest designers.

“It’s certainly something.”

“I think it’s great. I want to put it in the dining room.”

Anthony’s eyebrows went up in shock, and he tilted his head back and forth. “I dunno if it’ll fit in there, Jam.”

I grinned. “It will.” I looped my arm through his and he sighed giving me his look I had gotten so used to, the are-you-really-sure tilt of his head and a single eyebrow raised. “Come on, we’ll be the only bidders.”

We moved along with the other curious shoppers, stopping occasionally at the other tables with all the items out on display. It felt a little odd to be going through this house. I had noticed it the moment we moved into our small house on Pick Street. It practically towered over the rest of us, the garden in disarray, the bottom two steps of the porch had began to separate itself from the rest of the house. Anthony had always complained that it was an eyesore, but I thought it was charming--an relic from another time.

A bell rang throughout the house announcing the beginning of the auction. We made our way through the long hallways and down the spiral staircase with the rest of the strangers, neighbors, antiquers, to the backyard.

The backyard was just as bad as the front yard but they cleared enough space for us to stand. As they prattled off the smaller trinkets, my excitement began to rise. As we moved through the items one by one, old cufflinks, silverware, a collection of hand knitted cozies, I couldn’t help squirm.

“Item forty, a wonderful cocktail dress in black with no label. Looks to be from the 1950s judging by the underskirts. Let’s begin the bid at fifty dollars. Any bidders?” The auctioneer said from under the shade of the large house.

“Maybe we could put it in the laundry room. It’s big, I don’t want it to block off so much of the room,” Anthony began.

I grinned and squeezed his hand in mine. “Oh come on, we can fix it up to look nice.”

“I think they tried to make it look nice,” Anthony said. “You just can’t fix something like that.”

“Have a little faith. We’ve taken on worse projects.”

“I know, but our whole house is beginning to seem like a whole project.”

That was true. We bought the house to be a fixer-upper, and I didn’t help by bringing large pieces of furniture home like Item Forty-One and working on them in every corner of the house.

“Now let’s move onto item forty-one. A wardrobe in the bedroom. Two doors, seven drawers. Needs a little love and care, but I’m sure the drawers will open with some elbow grease.”

“Oh jeez,” Anthony mumbled.

“Let’s begin our bid at two hundred dollars.”

“Two hundred dollars!” he asked me as I raised my hand. “Jam be serious.”

“Two hundred dollars to our couple in the back. Do I see two twenty-five?”

“It’s a great piece,” I said more to assure myself than him. I raised my hand again eagerly.

“You just bid against yourself!” Anthony groaned.

“Whoops.”

“Two hundred and twenty-five dollars to our eager couple in the back. Do I see two hundred and fifty?”

No one raised their hands. Maybe they saw how close we were standing next to it. Maybe they were just as daunted as Anthony was at the project. The small gavel went down. “Sold to our couple in the back.”

I clapped my hands and did a small jig until I saw the corners of Anthony’s mouth twitch upwards into a small smile. “How are we even supposed to get it down the street?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

We set down the wardrobe against the wall of our dining room. Anthony groaned, straightening up. “Did it get bigger?”

I wiped sweat off my brow and looked at it. “No, it’s just our house is a little bit… smaller.”

Anthony snorted and crossed his arms. “Alright, let’s hear your plan. How are you going to fix this?”

I grinned and dusted my hands on my pants. “I want to keep the doorknobs as they are, they don’t match, but they look nice. I’m going to sand the entire thing down and paint it an aubergine.”

“Aubergine?”

“A dark purple.”

Anthony nodded, leaning against the dining room table, a small bemused smile on his face. I tested the two doors, wincing when one squeaked. “We’ll add a little grease to get the joints moving better.” I slid open the first drawer and wrinkled my nose. “We’ll take the moth balls out, clean up the drawers better.” I pulled them out one at a time and laid them on the floor around Item Forty-One.

“I’m guessing the bottom drawers are the one that’s stuck.”

I nodded, pulling on the two bottom drawers. “Maybe we can use a screwdriver without damaging it too much?”

“If we’re gentle with it, yeah.” Anthony walked out of the dining room.

“You know,” I called over to him as he rustled through our cabinets in the kitchen, “It sounds like Item Forty-One is beginning to grow on you!”

“You just have that look right now, that’s all.”

“What look?” I tugged on the drawer some more.

“That determined look.” He came back into the dining room, a screwdriver in his hand. “Like you’re not going to stop until you get it all done.” He sat down on the ground and slid the screwdriver between the drawer and the rest of the wardrobe. “Get ready to pull on the drawer.”

I began to wiggle the drawer out as he wedged the screwdriver further in. “Ooh, it’s coming out,” I squealed as we pulled the drawer out.

The drawer fell with a thud and we both looked inside. I picked up a little black book on top of the pile of envelopes and flipped through the pages. “Save envelope thirty-six for when you need a weekend away.”

“Envelope thirty-six?” Anthony flipped through the envelopes and pulled it out. He opened it up, his eyes going wide. “Jam. Jam! There’s money in here!” He shoved the envelope in my face, my eyes catching sight of crisp hundred dollar bills.

“How many?”

He shook his head shocked and moved it back towards him. “Fifteen hundred.”

“There’s no way.”

Anthony shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this.”

I flipped through the black book to another page. “Save envelope twelve for car repairs.”

We dug for envelope twelve.

“There’s nine hundred dollars in here.” I said, flipping through the money.

Anthony took the book from me. “Save envelope fourteen for a dinner for two. Save envelope seventeen for a dental emergency. Save envelope twenty-three for a wedding gift. Save envelope twenty-nine for a night in town.”

My fingers went to the envelope as I counted all the money in the envelopes. “Anthony, there’s twenty thousand dollars here.”

He was speechless, shaking his head slowly. “This hunk of junk, hidden in the corner, ugliest, biggest, bulkiest, wardrobe I’ve ever seen in my life.” He began to laugh, throwing the black book back into the drawer. He ran his hands through his hair before leaning on the wardrobe.

“My hands are shaking.” I let out a small giggle, and covered my mouth.

“What are we going to do with all of it?”

I set the envelopes back in the drawer and closed it. “We have our instructions. We have to save it.”

“Jam, that’s twenty-thousand dollars.”

“I know, but we have to save it. The notebook told us to save it.”

Anthony sighed, his lips moving into a thin line. “You’re right. We’ll save it.”

“Do you like Item Forty-One now?”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Jam, I love Item Forty-One now.”