Heads

She hesitated after hearing the question. It was always a gamble: to consult her husband, or make the decision herself? He never felt strongly either way, so she knew when to act.

“I was hoping for the red oak. Let’s see these options.—No.—No.—This canyon hickory looks nice. Yes, close to the color. How much per square foot?—Really?—No, no. That’s fine, I suppose that’s fine. Insurance is covering it anyway. That won’t eat into it too much, I don’t think.” 

The contractor put in the order, said they would be able to install the floors next week. The plan that day was to place the new layer of concrete. After pulling up the molding carpets, they discovered the subfloor was uneven, and it needed to lay flat before the hardwood.

The renovation had gone like that—protracted. She grabbed her toddler’s necessities from the bedroom and bathroom: toiletries, stuffed animals, games, a change of clothes. They wouldn’t be able to enter for a day or two as the concrete hardened. She stood at the end of the hallway, watching the workers. In her mind’s eye, she pictured the finished area and smiled.

No. 118