Reframing Emma

By Missy Kierstead

Emma McCullough waitresses in a little diner close to her apartment. Her boyfriend is comfortable but boring according to her blunt best friend. He sits in front of the television, doesn't take her out, and stepped on her cat. As for the first two, she wants to paint and doesn't need him to distract her. She can snack on the condiments in her fridge, but she'll only forgive the cat-stomper if he'll apologize to the cat. That's not too much to ask.

Emma can't be bothered with confrontation and shaking up her solid if dull life. She's an artist. The waitress gig is only to sustain her pesky addiction to eating and paying her rent until she can become famous. The ringing phone and an invitation to a gallery showing changes Emma's life. She's been waiting her entire paint-spattered life for people to see her art, and finally, that dream is about to come true.

For months, Drake has been visiting the diner for lunch. His office is around the corner, and even with the shadow of his own tragedy looming in his heart, he notices the bright, sunny waitress as a kind soul who deserves a break. He's in a position to give her that break as long as she doesn't mind him touching her life anonymously. Drake can't let himself get emotionally involved.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Missy Kierstead
• Release date: Jun 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310234897

Missy Kierstead

I plan to live forever in the alternate universe of my own creation between the ages of 39 and 40 years old. It's the time where I found my love of writing, and I think I'll live there for a while.After being a single mom for a long time, I'm finally free. As free as they'll allow me to be between phone calls asking for money, babysitting and "Mom, I need you to do ___ for me."This leaves me time to figure out who I am and what I want in my life. Things I should have figured out in my early 20s around diaper changes and middle of the night feedings. But who could think straight back then? We were all lucky to make it through alive.

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Reframing Emma

by Missy Kierstead

Copyright 2014 Missy Kierstead

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Special thanks to:

Brandi Parker Bosserman at findingthepathforme.com for the title of this book.

Samantha Ryan at themarblejar.com for beta reading this book.

Find Missy Kierstead at missykierstead.blogspot.com for her recent books and information.

Reframing Emma is available in print at Createspace here.

Chapter 1

Boston winters depressed me. My painting suffered, my cat avoided me, and today, I hated my boyfriend. That wasn’t entirely the fault of the weather. The first day of spring, and I should have had a bounce in my step as I headed to my waitress job. Instead, a foul mood had me stomping through the park on the way to my waitress job.

I don't know why I put up with him. Overall, Steven wasn't a horrific boyfriend. He didn’t beat me, or shove me into a kitchen cabinet if I burnt the toast. He forgot my birthday more often than not. He left the toilet seat up. He didn't always listen when I talked. Typical boyfriend drama. I hate to make generalizations about men because women tend to forget anniversaries and birthdays, and they don't always listen, but women always put the seat down.

On the flip side, he liked Sadie. All right, maybe he only tolerated my cat, but that's okay because I only tolerated his best friend. That evened us out. He appreciated my art. That's what it really came down to at the end of the day. He thought I had the potential to become a great artist with people lined up to buy my paintings. In all honesty, he might have become a habit. I thought some days I might love him but mostly, he made me feel comfortable, and the relationship didn't require much effort.

My thoughts, as I stomped to work, were not comfortable. I envisioned taking a pair of scissors to his favorite football jersey. My vivid imagination helped with my paintings. That same imagination supplied a detailed picture of scissors slashing through the number on his favorite football shirt as I cut it into thin strips of cloth confetti.

I'll admit I was slightly disturbed by how quickly the violent image flooded my mind, but it wasn't like I would ever take scissors to his jersey.

That would dull the scissors.

What could he possibly have done to incur my scissor-producing, violent imagination? He stepped on Sadie. Accidents happened. I understood that. I'd almost stepped on Sadie myself. But, he stepped on her and wouldn't apologize. He didn't have to squat down at floor level to apologize face-to-face with the cat, but an out loud 'oops sorry' to the general, cat-loving public (me) would have been appreciated.

On top of that, he had the nerve to look offended when I asked him to apologize. It started an argument between us. Can you beat that? He actually gave off the impression that he doesn't like my cat, and that he never had. That changed the whole aura of our relationship. It took away half the reason I liked him.

While in the process of mentally re-evaluating my relationship on the way to work, I’d almost lost track of time. A glance at my watch told me I'd been walking and fantasizing too long, I'd be late for work if I didn't hurry.

Currently, I worked at a diner on Tremont Street outside the Common. Currently, in this case, happened to be four and a half years. No sign that would change any time soon either. It had lousy pay, but it bustled at lunchtime. The tips more than made up for the rotten pay.

The office and government workers in the area provided a steady flow of regular customers. Due to the nearby Freedom Trail and city tours around Boston, late spring was when the tourist crowd increased. A busy diner meant my boss would be more grumpy and demanding than usual. It meant that the man who acted like a surly pit bull who missed its afternoon fill of mailman on normal days would be worse during busy seasons. The more money and customers, the more he stressed, the more he yelled at us.

I shoved through the door on the run waving in response to Joe's frown. Before he could open his mouth to yell, I’d banged through the swinging metal door to the employee's area. I tossed my light jacket into my locker then fished around in my bag for an elastic tie for my hair. If I can't find one, Joe makes me wear a hair net. Not a cute look.

Of course, with the day I'd been experiencing, it was not surprising that I couldn't find an elastic even after dumping the contents of my purse on the floor. I knelt on the ground sifting through all the daily junk that accumulated in my bag; lip gloss, store receipts, my wallet, pens, loose change and a couple of crumpled one dollar bills, but no elastic.

My co-worker and best friend, Melanie stood over me. What are you doing down there? You think you can pray to get out of your shift?

I blew a long suffering sigh. I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself sometime soon, but maybe not right now. I am having a day.

Everyone has a day now and then. Don't let yours bring you to your knees! Get up offa that floor, girl. You know we never wash this floor 'cause the customers never see it.

I winced. She had a point. Plus seeing the contents of my bag strewn across the floor was too symbolic of the way my life had headed lately. Still, the artist living in the back of my head took snapshots of the moment in the hope of turning it into a painting later. Light angled on the dirty linoleum as a battered waitress knelt among her bag's contents. Lank, brown hair hung down to obscure her features. Her whole demeanor conveyed weariness. Her too-wide hips and small breasts were formless under her baggy uniform.

I scooped my life back into my bag and shoved it into the locker. The tiny artist in my head knew about things like this. I'd file that away for future use. My immediate need for an elastic still existed. No way I'd suffer the indignity of a hair net today.

Hands on her hips, Mel cocked her head at an angle that warned me she prepared to launch into a tirade about the troubles in my life. She always stood in that fighting stance when on the attack. Before she could open her mouth, I thrust my hand up at her. Don't even start. You have all day to harass me about my choice in boyfriends. I need you to find me an elastic.

Mel snorted out laughter, That sounds like you're trying to bargain with me. For the price of an elastic, I get to tell you exactly what I think of your boring-assed boyfriend choice? Is that what you're telling me? I need to be sure of the exact bargain you're striking with me for the price of a hair scrunchy.

I snarled a little as I searched the room for a rubber band or a piece of string, anything to tie this unruly mess away from my face. Why you opportunistic b--

Uh huh huh. Be nice now. I'm the only thing standing between you and a severe case of cafeteria-lady hair.

Fine. Yes, you get to spend the day telling me how much you don't like him. Like you ever needed to get my permission to voice your opinion. Plus, how is it different from every other day when you complain about him?

Mel beamed triumphantly like she'd won some kind of prize. Because today, I have your permission which means you have to listen to my all-consuming wisdom.

She really knew how to spot weaknesses. Mel spun the dial on her lock, grabbed her bag and fished around inside it. Her busy hands don't distract her. She had serious multitasking skills. She could criticize and be helpful at the same time.

You know what the problem is with Steven? She didn't wait for me to answer before continuing. He doesn't care about the relationship. There's no spark.

There's a spark.

She handed over the elastic while declaring. There isn't. Now, tell me what happened.

I yanked my hair back into a ponytail and sighed.

You always sigh when you're mad at him, which is all the time lately. I'm just pointing that out because I'm your friend, not because I'm rubbing it in that I am right about him.

He's a good boyfriend, Mel. Nobody's perfect.

He's a boring boyfriend, Emma. He never takes you anywhere and doesn't listen to you. I bet you can't think of anything fantastic that he has ever done for you.

I don't have time for this, Melly. Really. And neither do you. Joe will be in here any minute to yell at us. Wait, you left Darlene out there alone?

She'll be fine. There were only three customers at the counter drinking coffee.

I dashed out onto the floor. In my rush, I hadn't focused on the number of customers. I'd been more concerned about elastics and boyfriends.

Darlene waved at me enthusiastically. I smiled and gave her a small finger wave. I found it hard not to like her. A sweet, friendly girl and Joe's newest hire. She'd been here for a week. We were trying to bring her up to speed before the summer rush. She was a perky college student who'd never had a