The Right Time

by Susan X Meagher

  “Do you really believe me?” Her plaintive gaze begged for understanding.

  “Sure. I believe you didn’t have to put out to get what you needed. But…” She swallowed, knowing this was a damned harsh thing to say. “I’ve gotta be honest. I think you would have done whatever you needed to do to get your fix that night.”

  Her cheeks filled with color, shame vividly suffusing her expression. “I don’t…I don’t want to be like that anymore. I want to be yours alone. Forever.”

  “I know you do. I believe you do. I will always believe in you,” Hennessy said, “but I also know how many things you’re trying to change. I hope you know I admire the effort you’re putting in.”

  “Thanks.” She ducked her head, always embarrassed at receiving a compliment.

  “You know, you’d have a full-time job just coming to terms with how you feel about your mom, much less all of the other things you’re doing.”

  Townsend made a dismissive sound, and Hennessy caught sight of her expression. She looked almost bored. “She’s insignificant. Annoying, but that’s about it.”

  “Uhm…didn’t I hear you tell the group you started drinking again because of how she made you feel? That’s a little more than annoying.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care for her enough to let her get to me very often.”

  Hennessy shifted, the thick plastic seat squeaking when she moved. She leaned across the table, trying to get close to capture every bit of Townsend’s attention, ignoring the metal ring around the Formica cutting into her belly. “You’ve been in therapy since you could walk. It’s time to focus on your relationship with your mother.”

  Her flippant tone was back. The one she pulled out when she really didn’t want to talk about something. “I’ve never been very serious about therapy. I think I’m on my…eighth therapist. I’m trying for the record.” A childish smirk curled her lips.

  Hennessy continued to stare at her. “Who does that hurt?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Who does it hurt when you waste your time in therapy?”

  Her eyes shifted nervously, then landed on a family having dishes of ice cream. Mom, dad, and little boy, both parents focused on the kid, who was gamely trying to direct the spoon to his open mouth. Hennessy saw some spark come back into those lovely green eyes as Townsend watched the family’s gentle interactions. Townsend probably had, at best, a babysitter who helped her learn how to feed herself.

  Her gaze slid from the family back to Hennessy. Then she nodded confidently. “It hurts my mother. She pays through the nose to send me to the best people in New England. Social workers, psychologists, psychiatrists. She’s bought at least six BMWs for the dopes I’ve gone to.”

  Hennessy didn’t respond. Instead, she narrowed her gaze, deciding to wait Townsend out, to give her time to get past the immature view and be serious about this.

  Finally, her certainty faded. “I guess it doesn’t hurt my mom as much as it hurts me.”

  “Yeah, I guess not,” Hennessy said, her irritation boiling over. “Damn it, Townsend, you’ve had so many opportunities, and you’ve not only let them slip by, you’ve thrown them away. You’ve got to learn how to care about yourself more.”

  Instantly upset, Townsend whined, “I can’t do everything at once! Stop adding to my list every ten seconds.”

  Letting out a sigh, Hennessy said, “I’m sorry. There are some building blocks here that you’ve skipped over. I know you don’t have time to build trust with a therapist in the little time you have left in Vermont, but you’ve got to find someone to work with once you get back to Boston. It’s gonna be tough when you get back on your home turf, and you’ll need some support.”

  “I’ll have you, won’t I?” Townsend said, giving her a hopeful smile.

  Hennessy felt the noose tighten around her neck. Townsend had never made it more clear. Her sobriety was only partly her responsibility. A good bit of it rested on Hennessy’s shoulders.

  Before she could temper her response, she gripped Townsend’s hand and spoke clearly. “No. I’m not a substitute for a therapist. You have to find a professional and be honest with him or her. Completely honest.”

  “Okay, okay,” she said sliding her hand out from Hennessy’s grip. “I’ll put it on my list.”

  She said that like she was jotting down things to pick up at the drug store. Like it was just one more insignificant detail on a list already jammed full.

  After dinner, they went back to Townsend’s campus and took a long walk around the perimeter. The path must have been made for bicycles, since it circled around and cut across the middle of the campus in a big X. There were a few lights on in the dorms, but the students weren’t required to be back until Sunday, and Hennessy doubted many of them were in a rush to return.

  Someone had spent a lot of money making the place have a lot of New England charm, even though she could tell most of the buildings were fairly new. Not the big one in the middle—that was clearly from the nineteenth century. But everything else had a fake old style that must have appealed to the parents who couldn’t get their kids into one of the old-money prep schools. It must have bugged the hell out of Miranda to have to put her girl into a new-money place for troubled kids. Of course, that’s probably why Townsend was there—just to annoy her.

  “You never told me where you slept last night,” Townsend said, while wrapping her arm through Hennessy’s.

  “Doesn’t matter. I was fine.”

  “Let me get you a hotel room. There’s a nice inn not far from here. I think George Washington really slept there.”

  “I’ve got to get back,” Hennessy said, waiting to feel Townsend’s body jerk back in outrage. But some of her fire had been doused. She barely flinched.

  “I guess I should have seen that coming,” she grumbled. “Not that I blame you. I’d probably kick my ass to the curb and never look back.”

  “I’m not like that,” Hennessy said. “I stand by my promises, and I’ve promised to love you. One slip doesn’t ruin everything.”

  They were standing in front of a big copse of trees, probably old ones. Hennessy didn’t know much about New England trees—these were big and didn’t have any scent at all. But they looked permanent, like they’d been there for a couple hundred years and would still be there a heck of a long time in the future. They’d just started to leaf out, the promise of revival, renewal. Just what she and Townsend needed. “We need to refocus,” she said. “To stop trying to beat the clock on your one year anniversary and focus on staying sober. Permanently.”

  “I have been,” Townsend growled, the fire flaring again. “I’ve been doing everything I’ve been told. And my reward—my only fucking reward—was going to be you. Now I’ve got three hundred and sixty three damn days to go, and that makes me want to climb up that hill and jump.”

  “That’s not the right way to look at it,” Hennessy said. She knew her words weren’t reaching Townsend, but she had to say them. They were all she had. “We’re going to take that one year goal away and replace it with something more realistic.”

  Townsend’s dark blonde eyebrow shot up suspiciously. “I should be happy to hear that, but I bet I’m not going to be.”

  Hennessy took her by the shoulders and held on tightly, feeling her thin frame through the silky fabric of her down jacket. “I don’t want to have any goal. No rewards dangling in the distance. You work on staying sober. I’ll work on not enabling you. Then we’ll see where we stand.”

  Townsend’s eyes narrowed and grew noticeably cold. “So I can be sober for a year, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll be lovers.”

  “I hope it does,” Hennessy said, closing her eyes against the pain and anger she saw flickering in Townsend’s stormy gaze. “But I can’t promise it will.”

  “Great,” Townsend muttered, starting to walk again. “I can do everything in my power to change and wind up with nothing.”

  Hennessy let her
stalk ahead. At this point, they were speaking different languages. Townsend had no concept of the reward she’d have if she truly focused on her sobriety. And until she realized that—Hennessy didn’t have a thing to offer her.

  An hour later, they stood next to the SUV. Townsend leaned against Hennessy’s body, while Hennessy gently ran her hand through her hair, feeling its silky texture as it slipped across her fingers.

  “I’m terrified I’m not going to be able to stay sober without you,” Townsend whimpered.

  Hennessy placed her hand on her cheek and gently rubbed her thumb across the soft skin. “This is hard for me to say, but I’m going to say it anyway. If I’m the only thing that’s keeping you from drinking, you might as well start again. I can’t supervise you, and I can’t be your conscience. You’ve got to do this for yourself. Any other reason dooms you to fail.”

  “Then I guess I’m doomed,” she said softly.

  Townsend was so limp, Hennessy had to fight to avoid leaning against the pristine car. It was clear her resolve was at a new low, but Hennessy could only offer what she knew were platitudes. “Only if you let yourself be. If you make up your mind to stay sober, you’ll win this battle. I can support you, but I can’t fight it for you. No one can.”

  “I’ve heard that a thousand times. But how will I be able to stand not having you as my reward?”

  “I’ve said this every way I can think of. When we’re both ready, I’d be the happiest woman in the world to be your lover. My feelings for you are deep and genuine.” She put her hands on Townsend’s cheeks and cradled her face gently. “I know what I want, and what I want is a sober, mature, Townsend Bartley. I won’t settle for anything less, and you shouldn’t either.”

  “All right,” Townsend said, nodding briefly. “Uhm…I decided to give Art a try as my sponsor. I thought about some of the things that happened this week, and decided I’ve got to start listening to the people I trust. Sharon wouldn’t have recommended him if she didn’t feel strongly about it.”

  “That’s my girl,” Hennessy said, beaming a grin. “I think you’ll be a good match. He seems like the type who can keep up with you.”

  “Why do you think I resisted?” Townsend said, revealing her first genuine smile of the day.

  Hennessy reached down and caressed her cheek, its soft warmth sending tingles down her spine. “I love to see that spark in your eyes. It’s your feistiness that’s going to get you through this. I know that in my heart.”

  Townsend slipped her arms around Hennessy’s waist and gave her a gentle hug. “Will I stay in your heart?”

  “Always. I swear it.”

  Looking up and staring into Hennessy’s eyes, Townsend asked, “Will you kiss me goodbye?”

  “Of course I will.” She placed a tender, brief kiss on Townsend’s lips, then settled her onto her own feet and pulled away.

  Townsend lunged for her, holding her tightly as she whispered, “Don’t forget me. Please don’t forget me.”

  “Forget you?” She held Townsend’s face in her hands, gazing into her eyes until she felt as if she’d drown in their depths. “You’re in my heart. Forever.”

  Tearing herself away from that frightened gaze, Hennessy opened the door and sank down into the grey leather softness.

  Townsend reached inside and slipped her fingers through Hennessy’s. “I don’t think I can let you go,” she said, the tears starting to flow again.

  “I don’t want to go. I wish…I truly wish we could be together for all of the days of our lives.” She blinked the hot tears from her eyes. “I pray to God that one day we can be.”

  Townsend gave her a long, contemplative look. “I know you won’t call much, but will you write?”

  “I’ll send you a note every night before I go to bed. Promise.”

  “I guess…I guess I’ll take what you’ll give. Like I have a choice.”

  Hennessy touched her chin, lifting it slightly so their eyes met. “You might not believe this, but I’d love to give you everything you want.” She felt her mouth reluctantly slide into a slow smile. “I wish a lot of things, but that’s one thing that’s always true. I want to be what you need…what you want.” She stuck a foot out and boosted herself up to Townsend’s level to kiss her cheek. “But now isn’t the right time.”

  “Seems like it never is,” Townsend said, her eyes clouding with tears again. “I can’t believe I’m the one to say it, but you’d better get going.” Townsend waited for Hennessy to get back inside, then close the door. As the window lowered, she bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Hold me in your heart. That’s the only place I feel safe.”

  Placing her hand over her breast, Hennessy said, “You’re right here. Right where you’ve been since last summer. Right where you’ll always be.”

  “Goodbye,” Townsend got out hoarsely. She stepped back, but didn’t release her death grip. The car started to roll away, and Townsend ran a few steps, her hand locked with Hennessy’s. Finally, Hennessy’s fingers loosened, and Townsend’s hand started to slip away, leaving a fraction of a second when the tips of their fingers connected—then broke apart.

  Hennessy couldn’t bear to look in the rear view mirror. The mere sight of Townsend would break her heart. Instead, she brought her fingers to her mouth and kissed them gently, then placed her hand on her shoulder, hugging herself as she drove away.

  It could go either way. Townsend had a backbone forged of steel, but she was impulsive and impatient and immature. There were a thousand mistakes just waiting to knock her down. But Hennessy had a remarkably strong belief in her. She’d seen her struggle and she’d seen her win. Townsend could do this. She was sure of it. But the entire weight of her challenge rested on her shoulders. Her frail, shaking shoulders.

  Chapter Nineteen

  On Sunday evening, Hennessy sat in yet another diner. This one, just off Harvard Square, was an anachronism. Dated, grimy, reeking of stale coffee and grilled onions. Every booth filled with marginalized locals who’d lost every other reasonably-priced place in town to high rents. Her sponsor stirred sugar into her coffee, concentrating like it was a difficult task. Finally Angela looked up, flicked her long, dishwater blonde hair from her face and said, “I don’t want to lecture you, Hennessy. I really don’t. And I hate to be the kind of person who says I told you so—”

  “You did tell me so,” Hennessy interrupted. “I thought of that five thousand times this weekend. It was too late, of course, but I kept reminding myself of what a mistake it was to think I was smarter than you.”

  Angela reached over and poked her arm. “I barely got out of high school, so don’t give me that ‘I’m not smart enough’ bullshit. You’re the smartest kid I’ve ever met. You just let your heart talk your head into doing something dumb.”

  “Really, really dumb. I might have derailed Townsend’s determination to stay sober, just because I wanted to see her.”

  “Focus,” Angela said sharply.

  Hennessy looked up, taking in her weary, lined face, watery blue eyes and limp hair. She’d just worked a twelve-hour shift as a parking enforcement officer and fatigue showed in every part of her.

  “Focus on your actions,” Angela said. “We both agree you shouldn’t have gone away with Townsend. But you didn’t make her drink. She chose to. And you can’t make her stop. All you can do is offer whatever support you can, while not letting her pull you down into another co-dependent death spiral.”

  “What can I do?” Hennessy asked plaintively. “How can I fix things?”

  Angela’s pale eyes scanned over Hennessy’s features, quietly taking her in. “How serious are you about this program?” she finally asked.

  “I’m very serious about it.” Hennessy’s voice took on added urgency. “I know I screwed up, but I’m going to focus. I won’t get into any more situations like this.”

  “Okay.” She paused for a second, her gaze still pointed. “How do you plan to avoid them?”

  “I’ll sta
y on my toes. Go to more meetings.”

  Angela leaned over and spoke quietly. “I feel bad for Townsend. I really do. But I’m not working with her. I’m working with you.” She pointed at Hennessy. “Your first mistake was choosing to be with her. Your second is choosing to stay with her.”

  Hennessy’s eyes closed briefly. “I can’t abandon her.” She could feel the tears start to come, but she only had a napkin to dab at them. “She’d give up if I did that. I’m sure of that.”

  “Uh-huh.” Angela stared at her, unblinking. “How is that not typical co-dependent behavior? You chose to be with an alcoholic, Hennessy. You knew how troubled she was, and you jumped right in.”

  “I didn’t jump right in,” she said, her defense of herself sounding awfully weak. But Angela ignored her, continuing to speak.

  “Townsend made a good choice in picking you. You’re stable, giving, caring, and pretty drama-free. Hell, I have a little crush on you, and I’m straight as a stick.”

  Hennessy looked up to see the teasing twinkle in Angela’s eyes.

  “Townsend has one thing you like.” She poked Hennessy with her finger, then held it up. “One thing.”

  Head shaking, Hennessy said, “There are dozens of reasons I love her.”

  “There’s one. She’s an alcoholic you want to rescue. You’re trying to save your mother by saving someone who’s just like her.” Stabbing Hennessy with each word, she enunciated clearly. “You can’t do that. You will fail.”

  “I don’t want to rescue her, Angela. I want to love her.” She stacked her fists on the table and let her forehead rest against them.

  “Name five things you love about her. Fast!”