The Right Time by Susan X Meagher

side, beaming like a madman. “We’re a day early, but we wanted to celebrate our first birthday of the summer in style.” Her hand landed on Townsend’s shoulder and she pushed her gently. “Our little June Bug turns seventeen tomorrow.”
    Stunned, Townsend looked at the table, where a homemade cake blazed with seventeen candles. Her name was written, inelegantly, in frosting—probably courtesy of her annoyingly thoughtful cabin leader. That damned Hennessy was beaming and the other girls were smiling and hugging her and wishing her a happy birthday.
    It had been at least three years since anyone had gone out of their way to make a big deal about her birthday, and she was stuck for a few moments, not sure how to react. But everyone else looked so damned happy, so proud of themselves for organizing the party, that she just mimicked them. When she pasted a smile on her face, they all looked even happier. Maybe that was all you had to do to be—or at least look—normal. See what the most normal person around you did and copy them. That seemed too simple. But it couldn’t hurt to try, could it?

Chapter Six

     
    Living with alcoholics made Hennessy as sensitive to mood changes as a farmer to the first signs of threatening weather. A dark cloud on the horizon might be nothing at all—or the start of a crop-killing storm.
    When they left for the AA meeting that night, Townsend seemed…odd. Nervous or jumpy for sure. But also annoyed. Traffic was almost always bad at that time of night, and as car after car squeezed in front of them, Townsend demanded, “Will you hold your goddamned place? If you keep letting people in, we’ll be here forever.”
    Hennessy gave her a quick look, seeing her face scrunched up in a sour snarl. Deciding to ignore the crack, she concentrated on her driving, hoping Townsend was just getting her period or something.
    The usual crowd was at the meeting, now a core group of ten, with newcomers often dropping by to sample and see if it was right for them. Everyone was college aged or younger, but each kid was deep into the disease, with several of them at the meetings to satisfy some judicial decree.
    Townsend had been using her own name for weeks now, even conforming to the first name only convention. Tonight, when it was her turn, she stood up, but kept her eyes to the floor. After nervously clearing her throat, she quietly said, “I’m Townsend, and I’m an alcoholic.”
    Despite having claimed the disease in private, Townsend had been very reticent to speak those words at the meetings. She’d tossed off the statement a couple of times, but Hennessy’d thought she’d done it to blend in. It had never seemed sincere. Today, it was.
    “I started drinking when I was fourteen, and haven’t stopped. It started off slow.” She stopped, shook her head and corrected herself. “That’s not true. It was like a freight train, quickly building up speed until it could have blown through a brick wall.” She took in a long breath, with Hennessy’s heart starting to beat faster. Townsend had never been this honest about her drinking. Not even close.
    “By the time I was fifteen, I was drinking every day after school. Then before school. Then during school. Nothing slowed me down. Not pills, not grass. Nothing took the place of alcohol.
    “I’d be hanging out, with everyone getting fucked up on Oxy, or Perks. Everyone else would be out—drooling. But I still had to have a few drinks to get that”—her features were composed, but she seemed to struggle for the right word—”release.” Now she showed a faint smile. “I had to get that release.”
    Hennessy’s stomach was doing flip-turns. Even though she’d known it was bad, she’d not truly known how bad it was.
    “Last summer, my mother finally had enough. We summer on a small island, and she talked…or had her people talk to every shopkeeper and store. They all agreed to be on the lookout and not sell me alcohol, even if I could