Page 20 of A Chance Fall

"Sure, grab a sledgehammer."

He grabbed a hammer from the pile of tools and put on safety goggles and gloves as she continued to swing at the floor. He put a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. "You know if you hold it with your hands further apart, it'll be easier."

She nodded her head and tried the new positioning. They both swung at different parts of the floor, getting extra careful when they were getting close to the last bits.

With one final blow, the last tile cracked, and the old floor was finally gone. The broken pieces lay across the floor until April was able to sweep them all up into a bin. They both stepped back to admire their handiwork, panting heavily.

"Well, that was fun," her father said, removing his goggles.

April smiled. "Yeah, it was. Thanks for the help, dad."

She felt a twinge of guilt. She had been so caught up in her own world of the bed and breakfast. Maybe it was time to focus on reconnecting.

"Do you want help with the new tile?" he asked as he grabbed it from the box.

She winced as he pulled out the modern white and gray patterned tile. It was the exact opposite of his style, but fit the room well.

"This one, really? I've seen it in every new property this year. You want this to be the one?"

April rolled her eyes, trying to hide her annoyance. She understood her father's taste was more traditional, but she was going for a modern look.

"Yes, this one. It'll look great, trust me."

Her father shrugged. "Alright, if you say so."

They worked in silence, carefully laying out the new tile. April made sure every piece was perfectly lined up on her end of the bathroom. Her father worked on the pieces by the door while she worked on the parts by the shower.

"Make sure you measure everything out. Don't want the pattern to be uneven when we're done," Richard said as he pasted the floor and stuck down another gray tile.

She tried not to sigh loudly. "Right. I got it, dad."

As they got to the end of their first rows of tile, April's heart fell into her stomach. The last tile sat in her hand. She stared at it, then back at the floor, then back at it.

The tile wasn't going to fit in with the pattern. If she cut it, it would fit between her second to last tile and the wall, but the pattern for the rest of the room would be off. They would be missing portions of the lines when they didn't need to.

Something was wrong here. She bit her lip and looked over at her father, sheepishly. "Uh, dad. I think I messed it up." Frustrated, she threw down her trowel.

Her father picked up the tile, eyeing it carefully. He looked back at her, his brow furrowed in concentration. She felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck; she had been so careful with this project, and now she was going to have to redo an entire row.

"Looks like you made a mistake when you measured. And you're putting too little of the mortar on. It's not going to stick well," her dad said, pointing to exactly the places where she went wrong.

She groaned in frustration and felt her cheeks flush. Considering the warning she'd just received, she should have been more careful.

"Let me talk you through it," her father said, and he proceeded to give her tips on how to properly measure the tiles so they would fit in the room evenly, as well as how best to lay them down with the right amount of mortar.

April begrudgingly listened, grateful for his advice but feeling frustrated that he always seemed to want things his way. Even though she made a mistake, she didn't need a speech to get things right this time.

It was hard enough doing the project, but to have to listen to mister perfect need everything his way, it was exhausting.

She knew she made a mistake. Of course, her father was just trying to correct it. But everything she did around him was a mistake. He needed more, needed something newer, better.

He never complimented, only corrected.

April looked behind her at the row her father did. Every tile lined up perfectly, nothing out of place, and each piece fit snugly against its neighbor. He had managed to get it right on the first try, something she couldn't say for herself.

And yet, hers wasn't that far off of his. The amount of mortar under the tiles was the same. The only thing different was the slight measurement she missed.

Still, she listened through his speech on how to lay out the cold muck to stick the tiles to the floor just as he did. April didn't know if it was the 'right' way, but it was Richard's way.

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