The Right Time (11 page)

Townsend had to be hungry. She had to be. But she’d had a drawing class until noon, not giving her time to put in an hour’s work before the meal. Hennessy had little sympathy for her. Missing a few meals was nothing compared to the good that could come from someone laying down some limits.

Townsend sat in the back of the mess hall, sullenly staring at Hennessy, who was companionably eating with the other girls from Sandpiper. She’d made it clear to Townsend and to the kitchen staff that not a bite of food was to pass her lips until she’d worked—without complaint—doing whatever tasks she was assigned. Given the snotty comments Townsend had made about the palatability of the food the first few days she was there, Hennessy wouldn’t have been surprised to have the staff assign her to cleaning the grease traps.

Finally, the mess hall cleared and Hennessy signaled her very recalcitrant camper.

“I don’t know what point you’re trying to make,” Townsend growled as she drew near, “but I’m ignoring it.”

“Fine by me. My only point is to get this kitchen cleaned.”

She slung an arm around her shoulders but Townsend roughly shook it off. “Fuck you, fuck this lame-assed camp, and…” She was so angry she was sputtering. “Fuck you!”

“You’re repeating yourself,” Hennessy said. It was just the two of them in the airy, rough-hewn room, the scents of lunch hanging heavy in the air. But Hennessy still spoke quietly, respecting Townsend’s privacy. “One bit of advice. If you make another scene like you did this morning you’re going to work in the kitchen for every meal. I’ve given you time to adjust. Now it’s time for you to go along with the program. Most of the girls aren’t used to the kind of language you use. So knock it off. Now.”

Not speaking a word, Townsend marched into the kitchen to work her shift. It was probably a good idea to sleep with one eye open tonight. Townsend had already demonstrated her ability to slip past locked doors.

To everyone’s surprise, most of all Hennessy’s, Townsend finished her week of kitchen duty without another complaint. Hennessy almost felt bad for her when she’d poke her head in and find her on her hands and knees, scrubbing the tile floor with a steaming bucket of soapy water, but honest work never hurt anybody.

Doing her kitchen work seemed to be all Townsend could handle with grace. Each and every AA meeting was a little bit of hell. As she’d promised, Townsend didn’t speak, other than to state whatever name caught her fancy that day, but getting her into the van and over to the church had Hennessy cursing her silently. At least they were speaking again—after the meetings. Beforehand, silence ruled.

On the way home after the fourteenth meeting, Townsend stared at the side of Hennessy’s face until she turned. “Yeah?”

“Why do you go to these with me?” she asked thoughtfully. “Couldn’t some employee drop me off?”

“I guess so. But I don’t trust you to stay. I know to block the exits,” she said, trying to pull a smile out of her charge.

But Townsend wasn’t in a joking mood tonight. For a change, she seemed more thoughtful than irritated. “But what do you get out of it? Why not wait in the car, or go have a cup of that tea you’re always drinking.”

“I don’t go to Al-Anon meetings much anymore. It’s nice to remind myself that this is a disease—and see how hard people have to struggle with it. It gives me more empathy for the alcoholics in my life.”

A few seconds passed, the silence in the van louder than words. Finally, with a touching amount of tenderness, Townsend said, “Alcoholics, plural? More than your mom?”

Hennessy almost brushed the question away. Townsend would undoubtedly use any personal information to bait her at some point. But Hennessy decided to trust her—carefully. “Yeah,” she said, turning to face her. “Both of my parents.”

Townsend blinked a few times, then turned away, staring out at the darkness. “I guess you have to add me to your empathy list, too, huh?”

Hennessy had to bite her lip to stop tears from filling her eyes. Not only had Townsend referred to herself as an alcoholic for the first time, she was clearly asking for help—or at least understanding. But Hennessy proceeded with caution. Despite her pretty, patrician features and Disney-princess golden hair, Townsend still had the soul of a polecat. She wouldn’t know what to do with too much kindness—yet. “Yeah,” Hennessy said, turning quickly to assess her in the dim blue light of the dashboard. “For the summer, you’re at the very top of the list.”

Something started to change
once Townsend referred to herself as an alcoholic. It was definitely a small difference, and most campers probably didn’t notice, but Hennessy walked into Sandpiper one night to find Townsend holding court with three of her cabin-mates. Almost stopping to gawp, Hennessy kept moving toward her room, unwilling to break the spell.

Hailey saw her go by and burbled, “Townsend’s telling us about being on set when they filmed her mom’s movie!”

Townsend rolled her eyes, probably embarrassed she’d been caught acting human.

“I’ve got to get to bed, but I’d love to hear a recap at breakfast. See you all in the morning,” Hennessy said as she entered her room and closed the door.

After opening her window, she sat on the sill and listened to the katydids for a minute. It was a warm, close night—so close her hair clung to her neck. Hennessy gathered it up and snapped a band around it, letting the heavy, limp breeze have a chance at cooling her down. The cabin was air conditioned, but she couldn’t stand to have that dry, chilled air disturb her sleep. She needed nature to relax, to make her feel like she was part of the world.

Waves of sound floated over her, with the katydids’ call surging and retreating. Kind of like Townsend. Right now, she was retreating, consciously or unconsciously trying to blend in.

Townsend hadn’t submitted a piece that was even slightly prurient or obscene for two weeks now. Not only that, her submissions showed she was honestly trying to learn to write. Her stuff was still very raw, but she was making an effort—something Hennessy was sure she didn’t do very often. Her progress was slow, but every day she wasn’t drinking was, in Hennessy’s mind, a rousing success. To find her not only talking to the other girls, but talking about her mom…

Hennessy got up and went to brush her teeth. If Townsend could keep this up, she’d be a different person by the end of the summer. A person who wasn’t busy trying to drink herself into an early grave.

Leaving the AA meeting the next night, Hennessy said, “Would you like to go over to Harbor Town and have some coffee?”

Tilting her head, Townsend gave her a slightly suspicious look. They were only a year apart, but it was clear Townsend still thought of her as one of the adults. “Okay. But you’ve got to buy. Some asshole took all my money.”

Smirking, Hennessy said, “I’d be happy to buy. I’d never admit this to them, but the younger kids start to get on my nerves after a full day. I’m craving some adult conversation.”

“And I qualify?” Townsend asked, pointing at her chest with a thumb. “I don’t even have a driver’s license.”

“You don’t? Why not? You’re almost seventeen. I can’t see you preferring to be driven around.”

“No, I don’t
prefer
it,” she said, her voice taking on the tone she used when she was about to brag about one of her exploits. The girl still got a big charge out of being bad, even retrospectively. “I got caught driving without a permit when I was fourteen, and now I can’t get legal until I’m eighteen.”

“You might be young, but you’ve got an old soul,” Hennessy said, with equal parts humor and sorrow, her empathy for Townsend growing with every meeting they attended. She didn’t talk much, but when she did it was always to brag about some awful thing she’d done. Things no one with a shred of self-respect would even admit to. It must have been awful to have never learned how it felt to have someone look up, rather than down at you.

Hennessy seemed to really love Hilton Head, taking every opportunity to point out a nice view or one of the shorebirds that cruised along the bay. The island was okay, Townsend supposed, but it tried a little too hard. Kind of like Hennessy. She was always working, trying to be the perfect cabin leader, writing coach, person. It had to have been exhausting.

Harbor Town must have been her favorite place, since you had to pay to enter, and Hennessy watched her money like she was afraid it would run away. But it seemed just like all of the other developments to Townsend; a planned community trying to look like Cape Cod—without a harsh winter to give it character.

The place was crowded, with a lot of small shops and restaurants populated with freshly-scrubbed kids, and parents who looked like they wanted to head to a bar and knock back a couple of stiff ones.

Hennessy picked a coffee shop near the red and white striped lighthouse, and made good on her offer to pay. Townsend went for an iced coffee to make a dent in the heat, and they watched the last pink tones of twilight give way to darkness. When they were alone, Hennessy was usually pretty quiet. Townsend still wasn’t sure if that was her natural inclination or if she was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Townsend eventually grew bored of watching families try to appear functional, and broke the silence. “Since I’m masquerading as an adult, can I ask you an adult question?”

Hennessy snapped to it, sitting up straighter in her chair and looking back with interest. “Sure. You can ask me anything.” She paused half a second and warned, “I won’t always tell you what you want to know, but you can always ask.”

It was like being with a teacher who tried to act like a kid. They could never pull it off. “You really are an adult, aren’t you?”

“I guess. You’ve gotta grow up early when your parents are children.”

She said things like that so easily. Like she didn’t even blame them for being assholes. That was hard to believe, but a lot of things about Hennessy were hard to believe. “Right. Well, uhm…what I wanted to know was…” Why was this so fucking hard? Just ask! “Are you…straight?”

Her beautiful blue eyes twinkled as she held her mug to her lips. It was just like her to not even blink. In a flash, Townsend knew who Hennessy reminded her of. A fucking therapist! She’d met a dozen of them and they all did that “I’m not telling you shit” thing.

“And why do you want to know that?”

She was
so
predictable. But Townsend wanted to know, so she had to put up with her game. “Just curious. You know so much about me and my interests. It’s only fair to know about yours.”

“Well, I normally wouldn’t answer that question, but you’re right. I know more about you than I do most of my relatives, so I’ll share.” She put her mug down and tilted her head. “I am…chaste…and celibate…and…not sure.”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me,” she said, smiling gently. “I’ve never had sex, so I guess I can’t be entirely certain of things. But I know which way I’m leaning—and that’s private.”

That was bullshit. If she were straight, she’d say so. But that wasn’t what had Townsend’s head spinning. “You’ve never, ever had sex?”