Dresser, Reincarnated by Mary Sophie Filicetti

Dresser, Reincarnated

by Mary Sophie Filicetti

The dresser had seen better days. Peeling paint on the surface exposed colors buried underneath, one atop the other, like striated rock formations on a cliff side, the layers marking off eras of her childhood. Kasey stepped back to take in its last incarnation—blue and white stripes with pink decoupage dahlias blooming across the drawers—a redo conceived by her mother during her rocky adolescence. She’d balked at first, suspicious the project was conceived as a kind of family therapy, but her grudging acceptance had resulted in a surprising success, an almost exact replica of her mother’s sketch. At the time, she hadn’t the grace to admit her delight in the dresser’s restoration and return to her bedroom. Perhaps her mother had known.

The storage compartment’s harsh light lent a shabbiness to the dresser, emphasizing its faded colors. She picked up a cardboard box labeled with a black Sharpie in her mother’s hand: “Kasey—dresser refinish.” Six months since the memorial service, the sorting of her mother’s belongings remained incomplete. She took a breath and pulled off the packing tape, discovering the makings of a homemade kit: white paint, rolls of floral shelf paper, dainty flower drawer pulls. She felt the burden of her mother’s anticipation contained within the box; a wedding that wasn’t to be, a future project unrealized.

The previous October, her mother had applied pressure from her hospital bed, urging Kasey to keep the dresser. “Oma and Opa gifted the dresser to your father and I when we married. It’s not an antique, but it’s close,” she’d said with a wry grin. Kasey had laughed out loud, startling the charge nurse who pursed her lips at their levity.

She loaded the dresser with difficulty onto a dolly and wrestled it into the U-Haul, leaving the refinishing kit behind. She’d never intended to reclaim the dresser for herself, or as a solo venture, but practicality had intervened.

Back in her apartment, she consulted the internet for advice. Google’s first set of directions came bearing a warning:

Before undertaking this renovation, ask yourself the following question:

What will be revealed when you peel back the layers? Consider that after you begin, it will be impossible to return the piece to its current state. Be certain you’re prepared to live with the results.

Kasey renewed her search, uninterested in a morality lesson. Bob Vila’s website assured that with a little effort, the dresser could be “rejuvenated…transformed from a dated relic into a cherished belonging.” She printed these directions.

First, gather your materials, ensuring you have everything you’ll need: paint scraper, sandpaper, dropcloth, paintbrush, mask, gloves, infinite patience.

Right away, a feeling of failure surfaced. At Kasey’s age, her mother was expecting, having followed a meticulously planned sequence: church wedding, starter home, then a child. Her mother’s life possessed an orderliness which eluded her. She lost a week mustering the courage to walk into a hardware store, finally spurred into action by the sight of her clothes stacked in crates against the bedroom wall.

Before you begin, take time to clean the piece, brush off any accumulated grit or dust. Assess the joints’ sturdiness.

Not a bad idea. Those legs had borne their weight for decades, clothing her from infant onesies through the jeans and tie-dyed t-shirts of the teen years. She examined the dresser from all angles, then leaned her weight against the top, but the legs held.

Next, remove hardware; place base and drawers on drop cloth. Sand using medium-grit paper, removing the outer layer to uncover the unvarnished wood. Avoid applying too much pressure, which can damage the underlying wood, or too little, causing uneven and splotchy surfaces. Check your work.

The first layers of paint came off readily with the scraper, but the underlying coverings held fast. The process was more difficult and time-consuming than anticipated, the directions implying a competency Kasey wasn’t sure she possessed. She shook out a hand cramp and wondered if she’d made a mistake not choosing chemical paint stripper, the ‘nuclear’ option. She pressed on, and in stages uncovered a coat of delicate pink, then a dull white.

She pulled off the mask, retreating to the couch with a childhood scrapbook and glass of wine. The book was organized yet artful, her mother’s chronicling of Kasey’s life. Poring over a nursery photo, she spotted a gleaming white version of the dresser behind her mother, who cradled baby Kasey. Another snapshot, taken at a distance, showed mother and daughter immersed in the final restoration. Her mother’s album was certain to possess an image of the finished design—when she was ready to look.

In the morning, Kasey fortified herself with strong coffee before she resumed work.

Stir the stain. Apply evenly, completing small portions before moving forward. Remove excess liquid to achieve the desired shade. Test the effects after each section, refining the process until you are satisfied.

Reproducing the original shade wasn’t possible without a photo. Kasey chose a light touch, allowing the wood’s natural grain to shine. After thirty years, the swirls, lines and knots rematerialized, not imperfections, but notes of endless variety and individuality.

Let dry for 8 to 24 hours.

Optional: Apply polyurethane to create an impermeable layer, protecting the furniture from future mishaps.

The decision was now hers alone. Kasey skipped the last step, trusting her instincts and resisting the temptation to seal off further revisions. The piece required only care and attention: cleaning and oiling the wood regularly.

She reassembled her dresser. The drawer knobs felt too severe against the simple stain, so she journeyed back to the storage space and located the whimsical flower pulls. Stuck inside the box was a paper she hadn’t noticed before, a drawing of a garden-themed nursery with her dresser doubling as a changing table. Kasey closed up the box, taking her mother’s drawing for safekeeping. The dresser might yet survive another incarnation.

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Mary Sophie Filicetti is a teacher whose fiction has appeared in Red Rock Review, The MacGuffin, The Saturday Evening Post, Every Day Fiction, Nightingale and Sparrow, The Magnolia Review, and 365 Tomorrows, among others. She holds an MFA from Spalding University and is a first fiction reader at Little Patuxent Review.