Free Time Trials by Terry Lee Page A

registering the effects of a face aged prematurely by drugs, tobacco, and alcohol.
    “Don’t know, honey, just always have.” The ever present cigarette was propped in the corner of her mother’s mouth. “You got a problem with that too?”
    Rubbing her brow in hopes of warding off a headache, Regina took a deep breath and made the decision to give congenial a chance. Maybe the visit would move along better. Even she knew congenial was not her strong suit, but what the hell.
    “No, Ma, I don’t.” She shot her mom a tight-lipped grin. “I’ll come up with a name.” After all, in spite of everything, she’d now have her own transportation, even if it was going to take a thousand or so air fresheners to get rid of the cigarette smell. “Why don’t we go to the Chef? It’s right around the corner. They’ve got a great chicken-fried stea….” The steak died in the air, but unfortunately not in time. It was one of those moments when the words escaped before having a chance to reel them back in. Regina braced herself as if her mother was about to barrel through a red light, knowing the verbal slam would hurt just as bad as a physical impact.
    “Are you shitting me? Girl…chicken-fried steak?” Patricia lowered the window enough to toss out the cigarette stub. “You might as well just slap some flab on your thighs. Have I not taught you anything?”
    She thought about telling her mother she’d been starving herself all week just so she could have a decent meal for a change, which was the truth. However, she doubted her mother would believe her. Much to her surprise, because her emotions were usually always in check, Regina felt a sting behind her eyes. Why was it always so hard being with her mother?
    Because she’s a bitch, that’s why , Snow piped in.
    Clearing her throat, she hoped to sound more convincing than she felt. “I…I was thinking about Virgil.” Which of course was a lie, but congenial…congenial…congenial. “I’m getting the chef salad. It’s their specialty.”
    It was at that very moment she had a clear “ah-ha” moment. Suddenly, she saw how well her mother had taught her, except all the wrong things. The digs, the passive insults either directed to Regina or whoever was in the line of fire, along with the never ending string of self-absorbed conversations. I have so few friends , Regina thought. She treated people just like her mother treated her.
    They waited for the light to turn before crossing Sam Houston Avenue. Regina fought the compulsion to jump out of the car, just to escape. The “ah-ha” moment had not been pleasant. Turning her head toward the window, Regina bit her lip and swiped at the escaped tear running down her face. That was all she needed…for her mother to start drilling her on the “what’s wrong now?” crap. Thank God for the BAGs. She needed to learn how to be nicer, especially to the only friends she had.
    I agree, but good luck with that , Snow piped in.
    ~~~
    Her career choice in the beginning was fashion merchandizing with a double minor, journalism and dance. Later she switched to communications as her major and dropped the fashion degree, figuring there wasn’t a lot they could teach her. And besides, what she wanted most was to be in front of the camera, her Cinderella dream.
    Wait , Snow corrected. Cinderella wanted Prince Charming. You need to invent your own fairy tale…you know, like Ann Marie meets Mary Richards.
    “I always thought I could do a better Ann Marie. I’ve got the fashion sense, and Mary Richards is an associate producer at a TV station.” Regina liked the not half-bad idea, considering its source. For once Snow’s comment aligned with the pros instead of the cons.
    Excuse me; Marlo Thomas and Mary Tyler Moore have personalities. Try to find that in one of those fashion magazines.
    “I knew there’d be a dig in there somewhere.” If she hadn’t counted Snow as one of her few close friends, she would’ve kicked her