The Right Time

by Susan X Meagher

  They picked up AA meetings on Saturday and Sunday mornings, just to keep the streak going, as Hennessy said. The weekend meetings were for anyone, so people of all ages showed up. That wasn’t Townsend’s favorite thing. Seeing old people who’d clearly fucked their lives up beyond recognition wasn’t the best way to stay positive. But she was trying to do whatever Hennessy wanted. Not having many friends had her guessing about how to behave, but the AA motto of “fake it ‘til you make it” was going to have to do. She’d copy the way Hennessy behaved and see if that worked.

  On the first of August, Hennessy stood before her seminar, trying not to show the goofy smile she knew was struggling to get out. “I got some news this morning. For the first time, the editors of The Scroll will allow us to submit pieces for publication.”

  “What’s The Scroll?” Avery asked.

  “It’s a publication The Academy puts out to commemorate the summer class. It’s a pretty big deal, so I’m not going to lie to you and say it’ll be easy to get in.”

  Hennessy had heard that Avery was a really talented painter, but the girl struggled to express herself on paper. “So…we’re supposed to compete against people two or three years older than us?”

  “Yeah,” Hennessy said, trying to amp up her enthusiasm. “But there’s no age limit for creativity, so give it a try. Your submission can be prose or poetry, whatever you want.”

  Townsend was writing something on a notepad she’d started to carry. Not looking up, she asked, “How long?”

  “For prose there’s a limit of five hundred words. That’s not much space, so every word will have to count.”

  “Can we see one of the old issues?”

  “Sure. Drop by and look at the library.”

  Townsend looked up and raised her hand, another nice improvement to her social skills. “This is really voluntary?”

  “Totally. If you don’t have time, or you’re not interested, don’t bother. But I can guarantee you that if your piece is accepted, you’ll be in one of the advanced classes if you return next year.”

  “Will you be here next year?” Townsend actually looked both shy and hopeful—about as different from the way she’d started the summer as night from day.

  “If I can, I’d like to come back every year until I graduate from college. I love camp.”

  “I like it, too,” Townsend said, surprising everyone in the room, save for Hennessy.

  The Academy wasn’t a traditional summer camp, so they didn’t have a huge number of recreational toys. But MaryAnn loved horses, and she kept a small stable with just enough mounts for a whole cabin.

  “Who’s up for horseback riding today?” Hennessy asked after returning from Townsend’s early AA meeting. She received six affirmative nods, the Saturday morning ride having become a bit of a tradition over the last month.

  They set off, with Hennessy on her stallion, carrying the saddlebags filled with emergency supplies. It took a while to get across the island to the ocean, but that’s what both the kids and the horses preferred. They trotted along the beach, the horses kicking up sand as they galloped through the light surf. After dashing up and back a few times, they headed inland, making their way through the pine and hardwood forest. Hennessy loved the inland portion of the trail, having seen so much of the natural beauty of Beaufort County lost to development in just her short lifetime.

  They’d gone about halfway when Devlin’s horse started to limp. Townsend slid off her mount, a well-mannered filly that responded very well to her, and walked over to Devlin. “Let me take a look.”

  “You?” the young woman asked dubiously.

  “I’ve been riding since I was in diapers. Stand aside.”

  Hennessy watched the interchange, preferring to let the girls take care of things on their own, if possible. She’d seen Townsend’s competence around the horses, and felt very comfortable letting her take a look.

  “Hold him still,” Townsend commanded. “Just be quiet and don’t act like a bunch of pussies. They can smell fear.”

  Hennessy winced but didn’t say anything. By the end of the summer, the girls would have heard every four-letter word in the book, but she couldn’t police every exchange.

  Townsend was bent over, examining the horse’s hoof when a harmless brown snake slid across the path. Hailey screamed and the horse snorted and spooked, kicking out powerfully, knocking Townsend into the air, where she fell in a motionless heap.

  Hennessy was off her horse by the time Townsend hit the ground. Dropping down onto the path, she quickly ran her hands over Townsend, looking for where she’d been kicked. Townsend was out cold, with a bit of blood running down her neck, seeming to come from her ear. Hennessy’s hands were shaking hard, and she hardly recognized the strangled cry that came from her. “Oh, no, no, no, no!” Looking up, she shouted, “Go get help. Now!”

  Three girls snapped their reins and took off, going as quickly as the narrow path would allow.

  The two remaining girls stared at Townsend’s still form, with Devlin asking in a tremulous voice, “Is she gonna die?”

  “Jesus, no! I think she might have a fractured skull, though. The damned horse must have kicked her right in the head. Take anything you can find, and if you can’t find anything else, take off your shirts. Go to the ocean and wet them, then run back here. I need something cold to keep the swelling down.”

  Both girls took what they could find from the saddlebags, then ran towards the ocean. With her pulse pounding so hard that she felt like her heart would explode, Hennessy did what she could—murmuring to Townsend, and promising that help was coming. “Come on, June Bug, hang in there. Please, hang in there. Please, Townsend—you can do it.”

  Miraculously, the green eyes fluttered open and looked up at Hennessy vacantly. “What happened?”

  “The horse kicked you. Don’t move. I’m afraid you have a head injury.”

  “Fuck,” she muttered, closing her eyes so tightly her lashes disappeared. “I haven’t had a headache this bad since I stopped drinking.” Seconds passed, with her face showing she was becoming more alert. Finally, her eyes opened and she met Hennessy’s anxious gaze. “Am I gonna be all right?”

  “Yes. Definitely. Not a doubt. Without question.”

  “That bad, huh?” A soft, weak chuckle made Hennessy feel better than any words Townsend could have spoken. If she could laugh, she’d probably be all right.

  “Your skull might be fractured. You’re bleeding from your ear. That can be bad…but we’ll get you fixed up. Guaranteed.”

  “I’m scared,” she whispered. “Will you…” Their eyes met again, with Townsend’s unblinking gaze seeming to drill right into her. “Will you hold me?”

  Hennessy’s heart almost broke in two. During AA meetings, she’d heard Townsend express every possible emotion, but never fear. “Oh, Townsend, I’d love to hold you, but I don’t want to move you.” Seeing the silent plea in those pale eyes cinched it. Townsend needed comfort and Hennessy had to give it to her. She lay down on the trail and tucked an arm around her, murmuring, “You’re gonna be fine. Just fine.”

  “Things were starting to turn around,” Townsend muttered. “Just my luck to kill myself.”

  “You are not going to die,” Hennessy whispered fiercely. “You’re not!”

  Townsend’s hand went to her head and she felt around her ear. “Hennessy?” she asked softly, her eyes closing again.

  “What, June Bug? What is it?”

  “If I make it, will you do me a favor?”

  “Yes, yes, anything.”

  “Will you kiss me?”

  Every muscle froze, like she’d been hit by lightning. She shouldn’t show how she felt. It was wrong on every level. But the rules didn’t matter. Comforting Townsend was all she could think of. Leaning in close, she whispered, “I’m so confident you’ll be fine, I’ll pay up in advance.” She hovered over her for a moment, indecision making her stomach flip. Then she dipped her head and kissed her, putti
ng all of her heart and all of her hopes into the tender embrace.

  As Hennessy pulled away, every part of her body tingling, the roar of an engine came flying across the sand. The camp doctor jumped off the four-wheeler and rushed over. “What happened?”

  “Horse kicked her in the head. I’m not sure where he got her,” Hennessy said, hearing tears choke her voice.

  Swabbing away the blood with some alcohol-soaked gauze pads, the doctor let his fingers linger over an egg-sized knot on the side of Townsend’s head, just behind her temple. “Here’s the spot. Was she unconscious?”

  “For a couple of minutes. Her eyes keep losing their focus.”

  “Looks like a concussion. We’ll get her transported as soon as the ambulance arrives.”

  “But the blood…her ear …”

  “That was from the wound right here.” His fingers hovered over a spot, then he met Townsend’s eyes. “You’re going to have a headache, but you’ll be just fine.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Hennessy asked, “Are you sure?”

  “I can’t be sure,” he said, then took a look at Hennessy, obviously seeing she was scared to death. “I’m sure,” he said, winking.

  The next morning, Townsend blinked her eyes, trying to focus. The strange, antiseptic smell was all wrong. Her room should smell of pine and cedar and swamp. The lovely, dark-haired woman sitting on her bed also didn’t belong. Something weird was going on…

  “Hi, June Bug. How’s the melon?” Hennessy’s worried grimace quickly morphed into a gentle smile.

  “The what?”

  “Your head. How’s your headache?”

  It all started to come back. Horse. Hospital. A room full of worried adults. Mary Ann calling her mother. “Mmm, years of hangovers have prepared me for this.” She almost laughed, then remembered that horrible headaches didn’t respond well to jerky movements. “When can I get out of here?”

  “The doctor wants you to get some breakfast down to make sure you’re not nauseous.”

  “I think I can do that.” She struggled to sit up, with Hennessy’s assist. “I’m still sick to my stomach, but I’m sure I’ll feel better if I can keep something down.”

  “Atta girl.” She placed a tray across her lap, and sat on the end of the bed. Townsend took a few bites of the cornflakes, managing to swallow and suffer no ill effects.

  “Thanks for picking something simple.”

  “No problem. I know what you like in the morning.” Her cheeks colored in the blink of an eye. Fumbling, she added, “I know what all of you guys like.”

  Running her foot under the covers, trailing it along Hennessy’s leg, Townsend said, “Don’t worry, Chief. I know you don’t feel like I do. I’m just happy to have gotten a kiss.”

  You could read her like a book. Hennessy hated to hurt anyone’s feelings, but she didn’t know how to slide out of uncomfortable situations gracefully. Her brow was furrowed, eyes filled with concern. “Aw, Townsend, don’t say things like that. So much has happened to you in the last two months. Too much to even think about loving someone.”

  Time to bail. This could get embarrassing—fast. “Who said anything about love? I’d just like to be the first person to fuck your brains out.”

  Most of the stress slid right off her face. Hennessy nodded, a short laugh breaking the tension. “I do believe you’d be able to. I think you could do anything you set your mind to. Anything.”

  “Anything but you.” She stared boldly, refusing to look away. Townsend wasn’t going to make this easy for her.

  Hennessy didn’t even flinch. It seemed like she’d expected the question and had practiced her answer. “Listen, now. You’ve only been sober for six weeks. You just turned seventeen. You’re my student. You’re living in my bungalow. The only way a relationship with you would be more illicit is if I were a priest, or you were a goat! Come on now, look at the reality.”

  “I am,” she said, searching Hennessy’s beautiful eyes for her true feelings. “I heard every item on your list. You said the reasons you shouldn’t have feelings for me, but I never heard you say you didn’t. Am I all alone here, or do you feel something, too?”

  She mumbled her answer, like she didn’t have the nerve to speak audibly. “I’d rather not answer that. I know we’ve always been honest with each other, but not this time.”

  “If you didn’t have feelings for me, would you tell me?”

  The dark head nodded. “I would.”

  Reaching out with her hand, Townsend threaded her fingers through Hennessy’s. They’d touched each other often, but always casual, almost incidental contact. Never like this. She closed her eyes as a burst of feeling settled in her chest. “Knowing that you care for me, even if it’s just a little, gives me something to live for.”

  “You’ve got so much to live for,” Hennessy whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t pin your future on one person. Not any person. You have to learn to love yourself first, Townsend. Then you can branch out and try to love someone else.”

  “Will you write to me this fall? I don’t know why, but when you say things like that, it sinks in. Somehow I hear you, like I’ve never heard another person.”

  “I promise I’ll write, and I won’t critique your style.”

  She was teasing, or at least thought she was. But Hennessy was such a woman of her word Townsend was certain she wouldn’t offer a word of criticism. Not even if she misspelled every word and dangled participles until they screamed for mercy.

  On the last day of class, Hennessy burst into the classroom and gushed, “Great news! The Scroll is going to publish both of the pieces we entered: Alison’s poem, and Townsend’s essay. Let’s hear it for them!” The rest of the class stood along with Hennessy and applauded for the blushing young women.

  Townsend was as reluctant to accept praise as it was possible for a girl to be. In just seconds she held up her hands and said, “Okay. Knock it off. We didn’t win the Nobel.” She reached into her pocket and walked over to Hennessy, holding out a small, neatly wrapped box. “Before you start to yak again and take up the whole hour, I thought we’d better get this out of the way.” The other kids got up and gathered around, making Hennessy sweat. What in the world…?

  “Each and every one of us wants to be teacher’s pet,” Townsend said, her eyes twinkling merrily as she extended the box.

  “Aw…you guys didn’t have to do this. It’s really not necessary to give me a gift. I’m very well paid …”

  “Will you just open it and stop wasting time?” Townsend said.

  Grinning sheepishly, Hennessy did, opening the box to reveal a gold chain with a tiny, perfectly formed golden apple.

  “A permanent apple for our favorite teacher.”

  The class clapped and called out as Hennessy stood there, tears running down her cheeks. She was making a load of money for the summer, but the little apple was worth much, much more.

  Hennessy spent the rest of the morning saying goodbye to the girls from her bungalow, and getting them reunited with their parents. Townsend was the last to leave, having decided to stay at an inn in Savannah for the night. It was just the two of them, sitting in the common room, tension escalating in Hennessy’s gut.

  “Is there any way I can convince you to come stay with me tonight?” Townsend asked, staring right into her eyes.

  Despite her anxiety, Hennessy laughed. You couldn’t say Townsend lacked nerve. “There’s not a chance in the world. Even the question is very, very far out of bounds.”

  She’d made progress—good progress. But Townsend still had that lightning-quick temper. Frustration was her mortal enemy. “But you’re not a real teacher, you’re not my house leader anymore, and we’re barely a year apart. There’s no law against a seventeen-year-old and an eighteen-year-old hooking up.”

  Hennessy took the time to sort out her thoughts. Slowly, the words came to her. “You’re wrong about that. There’s a very big gap between us. Call it experience, call it maturity�
�hell, call it sobriety. Whatever you call it, we’re not equals. I care for you, I swear I do, but I can’t be with you like that.”

  Frustration quickly gave way to a gentler entreaty. Townsend scooted closer and let her voice drop into a seductive purr. “Then be with me until I get to be your equal. It’ll be a nice project.”

  Hennessy stood just to have the space to think clearly. All of a sudden a sweet, enticing scent floated past her on the breeze. Townsend’s scent. Forcefully, she shut her mind to the sensation. She had to think of their reality, not the tempting fantasy. “It was just three months ago that I had to keep both eyes on you to make sure you didn’t walk away from camp with just the clothes on your back. That’s not how equals behave.”

  “But I’ve changed! I quit drinking, quit smoking, and I’ve worked like a dog on my writing. I never did anything like that before, Hennessy, and I did it because of your influence.”

  “I know that. And I’m really happy about every change you’ve made. But we’re both in the starting blocks here. You’ve got sixty days of sobriety and I’ve got about thirty days of being interested in a real woman, not just an idle fantasy.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s no big deal. We’ll figure this out together.” Getting up to move across the room, she started to approach.

  There was a look in her eyes that Hennessy hadn’t seen before, and it frightened the hell out of her. “No,” she said, her voice shaking. “I have to think about things, to really consider what I want and what I can have.”

  “You can have me,” Townsend said, smiling seductively.

  The whole situation hit Hennessy like a slap to the face. “No, I can’t. We’re not equals, June Bug. We’re just not. And I can’t be in a relationship where there’s a big power imbalance. I can’t.” She started to cry, and soon found herself wrapped in Townsend’s warm embrace.