The Right Time (46 page)

Glowing with pride, Townsend said, “Rowing. My mother bought me a skull for my graduation present—after she got over pouting about my skipping the ceremony.”

“Is there a good river near you?”

“There is in Boston.”

“I thought…” Hennessy’s cheeks glowed pink. She hadn’t known or thought to ask where Townsend spent the summer. They definitely weren’t courting, no matter how much she’d tried to convince herself things were almost the same as they had been a year ago.

“Yeah, I considered staying in Weston, but I took what you said seriously. Since my therapist is in the city, I thought that was the best. My mom has a pied-à-terre she let me use. It’s close to the Charles,” she added.

“But you’re going to be in Vermont. How will you be able to talk to your therapist?”

“It’s the twenty-first century, baby girl. We’re going to Skype when I’m at school.”

“Oh, good. That’s good.” Hennessy felt like she was a step or two slow. Like Townsend knew the path and she was trying to catch up.

“I got fit this summer by spending my mornings rowing down the Charles, then I headed to a nine a.m. meeting every day. Most days I followed up with another after dinner. Wild shit, huh?”

“That is
so
fantastic,” Hennessy gushed, thoughts buzzing around in her brain. Why hadn’t Townsend mentioned she was doing something so good for her? Why hadn’t she mentioned she was in Boston? “You look great. Really great.” Her libido started to wake up after a long summer of tamping it down. Then it hit her: Townsend hadn’t tried to kiss her. Not even a peck.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” she said, using a really bad Elvis impersonation while bowing slightly.

Their server came over, and after the woman rolled off a list of specials Townsend took charge and ordered enough for four. “You look underfed,” she said, eying Hennessy’s roomy T-shirt. “And over tan. You’ve gotta use sunblock!”

“I do. But I was on the boat with Daddy every day for the past three weeks. From can’t see to can’t see.”

“What?”

“Just an expression that means before dawn to after dusk. When it’s hotter than Satan’s underpants, you’ve gotta wear as little as possible. There’s no sunblock that can keep you pale out on the water all day.”

“Well, you look fantastic. I’m just worried you’ll be dead of melanoma by the time you’re thirty.”

“Doesn’t run in the family. I think we were made for outdoor work. The good lord knew the Boudreauxes would always be laboring under a full sun, and he gave us tough hides.”

Townsend grinned. “You just keep thinking those delusional thoughts, baby girl. Whatever gets you through the night.”

“What’s been getting you through the night?” Hennessy asked, startling herself with the pointed question, and afraid of the answer.

“Your emails have helped a lot,” she said, showing a rich, full smile. “I’m sorry I’m not writing as often, but I truly don’t have anything to say. I can’t talk about what goes on in AA meetings, and other than focusing on my stroke when I row…” She shrugged. “I’ve got nothing.”

“That’s all right. I just worry about you.” Her eyes grew wide. “Not that I think you’re in danger of slipping. I only meant that I miss you.”

“I hope that’s true.” Townsend slid her hand over and covered Hennessy’s. “I miss you, too.” She took a breath, then had a sip of water. “I’ve…uhm…had to face some truths this summer.”

“Yeah?” Hennessy’s heart started to beat more quickly. Townsend looked like she was finally going to say why she’d stepped back so far.

“Yeah. For the first time, I’ve been serious about therapy.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it suuuuuucks!” She laughed, throwing her head back and letting out a real belly laugh. “I
pay
someone to torture me! Well, Miranda pays.”

“I’m glad you’re being serious about it,” Hennessy said. “That’s a very good sign.”

“Yeah, I guess. Anyway, my therapist got me to admit I’ve been using you for all sorts of bad reasons. She made me promise to only write when I’m not compelled to.” Making a face, she added, “One more person who believes doing things because you
have
to isn’t good for you.”

Nodding, Hennessy said, “I’m sure that’s true. Probably good advice.”

“She agrees with you, of course, about keeping some emotional distance between us until I’ve been sober for a good, long time.”

Hennessy nodded again, even though she was sure she’d never said she wanted emotional distance. She did
not
! Physical distance was plenty to keep them on the straight and narrow.

“She thinks I should spend this year looking forward—rather than backward. You know,” she said blithely, “make some new friends, find ways to fill my time that don’t include seedy bars and blow-jobs.”

All Hennessy could focus on was the “make new friends” comment. “Uh-huh,” she said, trying to keep from sobbing. “You know I’ll support you in any way I can.”

Townsend looked at her for a long minute, and when she spoke her voice was warm and gentle. Just like it used to be when she got close and tried for a kiss. “You don’t have to write so often. You’re going to be super busy this year, and I’m doing well. I don’t need the security blanket as much as I did.”

“Uhm…” Hennessy could feel her cheeks growing hot again. “Would you rather I didn’t write much?”

“No,” Townsend said immediately, “but Dr. Buzzkill thinks I rely on your emails too much.
She’d
rather you didn’t write as much.”

“Okay.” Hennessy took a few big gulps of water, trying to soothe the knot in her throat. “Why don’t I wait for you to write, then write back. Would that be better?”

“Probably.” Townsend took in another deep breath, and Hennessy tried to stop herself from looking at the protuberant nipples that pressed against the thin fabric. It was torture to look at her fit, healthy body and glowing skin and not want to run her hands all over it. “It’ll be less than it has been,” Townsend said. She looked up, clearly asking for understanding. “Is that okay?”

Hennessy took her hand and held it. “I’ll do whatever you need. I’ve promised you that, and I’ll never go back on that promise. I love you, Townsend. With all my heart.”

Townsend flipped her hand over, brought Hennessy’s to her mouth and kissed it. “That makes me feel better than you can ever imagine.”

Hennessy saw the server bustling over to the table with their salads. She waited, patiently, for Townsend to have the opportunity to continue—to say she loved Hennessy as much as ever. The salads arrived—the words did not.

Near the end of October, Hennessy sat in the Grille, down in the basement of her house. It was set up like a rec room of a really big home, with sofas, a big TV, and a foosball table. It was usually too noisy to study or even read, but she liked being around her fellow Lowellians, so she often went down to write to her family. Today, she needed some people around, just so she didn’t feel so damned lonely.

Townsend almost always sent an e-mail, but she’d written a real letter, one that had Hennessy in a tizzy. Once more, she focused on the surprisingly nice penmanship and read the words.

Dear Hennessy,

I hope you can forgive me for being such a bad correspondent. I had no idea you actually had to study in college, and that remarkable fact has screwed up my social schedule.

I’m pretty well settled, but I’ve got a real douchebag for a roommate. Chelsea is a binge-drinking alcoholic-in-training, who’s going to wind up in AA some day. I’ve asked her not to drink in the room, but she ignores me completely. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to have a peer tell you you’re a huge downer? I could curl her hair with stories of my drinking past, but I don’t like her enough to bother.

Luckily, I met someone in my English Lit class who’s the antithesis of Chelsea. That’s a big word, just for you! I know you Harvard types like to show off your big vocabularies.

Anyway, Jenna’s my new buddy. She’s a freshman, from Salt Lake City. A big time Mormon who’s never tasted the demon rum. We spend hours in her room, talking about our wild roommates and how they’re wasting their college experience with drinking and partying. Me! I’m saying that!

I’ve told Jenna about my alcoholism, but haven’t gone into much detail. She’s a really sweet girl and I don’t want her to run off screaming into the night if she learns how bad it was. I think she’s hanging out with me to save another soul for the lord, but that’s cool. Everyone needs a hobby.

You’ll also be surprised to learn I’ve gone into the closet for the first time in my life. I haven’t met any other lesbians and I don’t want to stick out—yet. I’m not sure how innocent little Jenna will take it, and I don’t want to lose my only friend.

You’d really like her, Hennessy. She’s bright, subtly funny, caring and very close to her family. Sounds like someone else I know. Yes, you, baby girl. She’s a lot like you, but not quite as smart. If she was, she wouldn’t be at Larkspur! She also doesn’t have a sweet Southern accent or a love of Frogmore stew. But I don’t hold that against her.

Other than not drinking, going to AA meetings in town and studying, I’ve got nothing to report. Let me hear from you when you get a chance. No pressure! I know you’re probably super busy this year. Just drop me a note when you’ve got an unclaimed five minutes.

XO

Townsend

Reading the letter once again, Hennessy was sure of it. Townsend was drawn to her new friend. It might have been unconscious, but that didn’t make it any easier to take.

She folded the letter, stuck it into her back pocket, and balanced a notepad on her leg. Fishing a pen out of her pocket, she thought for a long time, concentrating so fully she barely registered a pair of guys who’d started to play foosball just a few feet from her. She had to get something down on paper. But what? Was she supposed to encourage Townsend’s crush? It’d be a cold day in hell before she’d do that.

So she picked up the pen and, in that moment, made up her mind. She’d been so hesitant, so torn. But now she could go with a clear conscience. If nothing else, Townsend’s letter had given her that.

Dear Townsend,

Thanks so much for the long letter. I’m really, really happy that your first weeks at school have gone well. It sounds like your new friend Jenna is a perfect fit for you.

I recently made a tough choice. A professor recommended me for a French Literature course next year. It’s a pretty difficult program to get into, with just a few students from America invited. It’s international, so students from all over the world who want to get deeper into French language and literature will come together. The thing is…it’s in France. Funny, huh? There are a few scholarship spots available, and I’m going to try for one. Studying in France would let me get comfortable enough with the language to be able to sail through the GRE proficiency exam I
’ll have to take for grad school. Now, I might have the locals laughing out loud at my accent, but I think the embarrassment will be worth the trouble. I know you’ll be happy for me if I get to go. Maybe you could come visit! Nothing would make France come alive for me more than to be able to see some of it alongside you.

Let me hear from you when you’re able. I hope you know that you will always have my friendship and my love.

Always,

Hennessy

She stared at the words on the yellow lined paper. They seemed so cold, so distant. But she truly didn’t know what else to say. Maybe Jenna was just a friend. But the ache that had settled in Hennessy’s gut told her it was more than that. Suddenly, she needed the safety of her room. Grabbing her stuff, she ran up the stairs, reaching her room panting and shaking. As the key card made a quiet click, she pushed the door open, tossed her things on the desk and fell onto the bed, letting her tears soothe the pain that infused her soul.