Flagler Beach Fiction Series
It’s All About Time
RebaPort wanted to lift her laptop and slam it to the floor, before stepping on it, kicking it across the small room and breaking it into tiny little pieces.
Her twins were home and, currently, arguing over the game controllers, even though they each had their own. Reba’s husband, Sam, owned his own software business and worked from the extra bedroom upstairs. From 9 am until 5 pm, except for a regimented lunch hour from noon until 1 pm, his door was closed and he was working. He was the bread winner, but she wanted to be the famous writer and turn this hobby into a viable income, one she could be proud of. She wanted a steady income so she would be seen as more than Sam’s doting wife and mother to the twins. She wanted her own career, her own money, and she wanted to do it in style.
This book was her ticket to this and more. Only, right now, she couldn’t string three words together to form a sentence without freaking out. She felt like a wannabe hack. Who was going to read her lame story about a little boy who saw ghosts in his house?
Reba was glad no one else was in the side room of Kokomo’s Café with her, because she probably looked insane. She took turns covering her face with her hands and then shaking them at the computer screen she felt was mocking her.
She knew how the story would end, and the first six chapters were brilliant. Her mother, back home in Illinois, had read and loved it, so far. She had asked a few questions, so Reba knew she’d actually taken the time to read it. The middle chapters, however, weren’t coming to her. She needed to move the character along and get him to see the ghost his mom couldn’t see but could hear.
But how? Reba shadow-punched the laptop in frustration. She giggled, suddenly, when she thought of the faces Mac and Ginny would give her if she started screaming, or what they’d do if she smashed the side window out with her computer. “Probably call the police,” she whispered. She was losing her mind. Reba decided to check her e-mail, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram and LinkedIn accounts, quickly, before writing again. Maybe she could find inspiration among the cat memes and one-sided religious and political rants.
Reba didn’t know how much time she’d wasted until her cell phone rang. She checked the time: 12:25. Time flies when you’re wasting time, she thought. She was going to write that down as soon as she answered the phone. She was sure she could use the line in this book. “Hello?”
“Hey… where are you?”
“I’m at Kokomo’s Café, writing. I told you this morning I was going to catch up on my book.”
“How’s it going?” Sam asked.
Reba stared at her computer, with an angry cat meme staring at her. “Great,” she mumbled. “How’s work for you, today?”
“It’s going great. Just hanging around here… getting hungry.”
“I’m a bit hungry, too.”
“What are you bringing home?” her husband asked.
Ah, he’s waiting for me to give him lunch, she thought. “I’m not coming home just yet. I want to finish this chapter.” I really just want to write a damn sentence without wanting to kill someone.
“Alright…” Sam paused on the phone.
“I have work to do,” Reba finally said.
“I’m hungry,” he blurted.
“Then make something. You’re a grown man. I think one lunch by yourself won’t kill you.”
“The twins are hungry, too. There’s nothing to eat in the house. Why can’t you get us McDonald’s?”
Reba sighed. “I’m not driving over the bridge to get you burgers when you can make a sandwich. There’s ham, salami and cheese. Bread is on the counter. That shouldn’t be hard to do.”
“I guess. I lost half of my lunch break.”
Reba laughed. “You work at home. I don’t think the internet will crash if you get back online at 1:08. I’ll be home when I get home.”
“What’s for dinner?”
Reba wished she was home, so she could slam the laptop over Sam’s head and kill two birds with one stone. Finally, she took a deep breath and calmed down. “I’ll bring home McDonald’s for dinner.”
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