Take Her Man

“Daddy’s not here?” I asked.

“No, he had a thing at the country club. You know your father.” She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. “Besides, I wanted to spend time with my little girl. Seems like everybody gets to look at you these days except for me. I see you’re finally losing some weight. And what happened to your hair? Please don’t tell me that’s a perm! What did Lucy do to you?”

To this, I preferred to say nothing. I sat and looked away from my mother, imagining that I was someplace else. I called it my Vow of Silence. When I was just a small girl, I realized that the best way to get my mother to leave me alone was to ignore her. If I said something, she’d keep going, but if I said nothing, she’d shut the hell up. It was nothing personal. It was just the only way I could ensure that we’d both survive the whole mother-daughter thing.

“Fine then…” she said finally. “This is the thanks I get for trying to comfort you during your time of need? You can’t even talk to me?”

“Mom, it’s not like that,” I said as Desta set the pitcher on the table. “I just know how you can get about my breakups—”

“How do I get?” she said, cutting me off. Even Tasha had to smile at that one. Everyone knew how she got.

“Well, ‘crazy’ comes to mind. You kind of take it too personally when I break up with someone…heck, you take it too personally when I have an argument with someone. That’s why I can’t tell you everything.”

“Lies. All lies,” she cried in her dramatic Scarlett O’Hara voice. “Troy, I’m your mother and I just want to protect you. I don’t want you to get your feelings hurt. No real mother does.”

“But it’s a part of life,” I said, pouring the red concoction of Bloody Mary into my glass.

“I know, darling, but I have to be there when things go bad for you. It’s my job.” She pinched my cheek. “I’ve been on this earth for a long time. I’ve been hurt many times. And I think the only reason I was able to get back up after folks knocked me down is that I knew I would have you someday, and I’d be able to use my experience to help you get through.”

“Oh, Mom. That’s so sweet,” I said. I got up and gave her a hug. She was a piece of work, but as my father always said, she meant well. My mother had a huge heart. And while I was always trying to push her away, she never let me go. Plus, she gave me good advice…sometimes.

For example, my first boyfriend, Champ (I know it’s a stupid name but it was sexy back then), was an Alpha I met my sophomore year after pledging. Champ was the spoiled son of a politician. He was at the top of his class, on his way to law school at Harvard, and he drove a gold CLK—big-time during those days, even for Howard. I’d set up a chance meeting between my mother and Champ at my sorority’s spring tea. She hated him. Her exact words were: “He’s a smug bastard. He’ll ruin your life.” I held on to Champ for dear life after that—out of sheer defiance. But the very next semester, a new crop of freshmen showed up on the lawn, one being Lori St. Croix, a Creole from New Orleans who took a liking to Champ. Anyway, he started disappearing off and on, and pretty soon he disappeared altogether. We split up before the Christmas break.

“So are you going to tell me about Julian now?” She smiled.

“Nope,” I said, remembering Champ. I didn’t want her to speak her prediction about Julian into the atmosphere. I couldn’t let her doom my plan like she had before.

“Tasha,” my mother said, cutting her eyes at me.

“Hmm?” Tasha managed, sipping on her Bloody Mary.

“Do you keep things from your mother?”

“Well, since I haven’t spoken to Porsche in two years, I suppose I do keep things from her,” Tasha said matter-of-factly. Though my mother, an avid soap watcher, knew who Tasha’s mother was, I’d never told her about their relationship. I figured it was for Tasha to tell.

“Two years?” my mother frowned. “It must be hard for you.” She put her hand on top of Tasha’s.

“Not for nothing, Mrs. Smith,” Tasha said coolly after finishing her second Bloody Mary, “but I’d memorized the entire menu at the Beverly Hills Hotel by the time I was twelve.” She watched Desta put the food on the table. “And I had a nanny. Her name was Consuela. I spent so much time with her when I was a little girl that I called her Mommy. My mother fired her right in front of me when I was fourteen. I was heartbroken when Consuela left. I felt like a member of my family had died. Right there I decided that I hated Porsche.” Tasha looked at me. She’d never told me that part of the story. I figured it was the Bloody Mary working her magic. I just hoped she didn’t end up in the cabana again. “So, no, not

speaking to my mother is not hard for me. It’s pretty damn easy.”

Everyone was silent around the table. Even Desta was standing by the door, looking as if she was about to burst into tears.

“Time for a refill,” I said, grabbing the pitcher.

Desta disappeared inside and came back with her own glass.

Proud Mary: A Bloody Toast to the Queen

Mix up this Bloody Mary in your blender the next time you’re expecting some girlie guests. Full of alcohol, this sipper will make all your visitors feel right at home. Mary will weep and Martha will moan. Just be prepared to collect some keys and turn drinks into an impromptu sleepover.

The Bad Ass Bloody Mary (Makes a Pitcher for All to Enjoy)

Ingredients:

23 oz. tomato juice

23 oz. V8 juice