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Authors: Richard Peck
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thebedspread. “I wish you wouldn’t take those pills. You know about the side effects. They’re really not sure if there aren’t links with blood clots and strokes and heart attacks and—”
“But you take them, Mother. The only difference is yours are in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and I keep mine under my scrapbook in that drawer over there where you must have found them.”
She looked away then but went on talking as if I hadn’t said anything. “Well, then if you really didn’t get them from Dr. Cathcart, who on earth did you go to?”
“The Planned Parenthood Organization. Down on Meeting Street.”
“Where? You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“But that place is for—for
married
people.”
“Not entirely. They have a youth counseling division. Mrs. Raymond who works there says it’s the biggest part of the program.”
“Now don’t start telling me
all
the girls at school are on the pill,” she snapped. “Don’t tell me since
everybody’s
on the pill,
you
have to be too. It’s not a
driver’s license
or—or—”
“I’m not saying that, Mother. It’s just that I’m not the only one.”
“Well, is Alison Bremer on them too?”
“I don’t know, Mother. But no, I don’t suppose she is.”
“Did Steve Pastorini—”
“It was my decision. Entirely mine. But I did it because of Steve. That’s better than if I’d done it because of . . . a lot of boys, isn’t it?” I waited a long time for an answer to that, but I didn’t get it.
Instead, Mother said, “Well, tell me how you got them—thepills. You can’t just march in that place and demand a prescription, can you?”
“No. There’s a whole procedure. Nobody told me about it, and I was scared when I went in the first night. But the volunteer there, they call them support workers—it was Mrs. Raymond, and she—”
“What Mrs. Raymond?”
“I don’t know her first name. She volunteers there in the evening.”
“You don’t mean Eleanor Raymond in my garden club!”
“Yes, she’s the one.”
“Why I see Eleanor Raymond every week. She—well, go on.”
“She was very helpful. She knew who I was, but she didn’t make a big thing about it. We went over the various birth control devices. She had a sort of set patter for it, but left time for me to ask questions. She volunteers there because she wants to help people, Mother.”
“Yes . . . I suppose so.”
“And then she told me to come back in a week after I’d thought things over. Decided which method I wanted, if any.”
“And then you went back there. How did you have the nerve?”
“I just did. And I said I wanted the pill. I had to see a doctor that time. He was volunteering there too. A gynecologist. I don’t know where his regular practice is. And after an examination, he gave me a prescription.”
“A thorough examination?”
“A pelvic examination. I have the prescription filled at Walton’s Drugstore, and I pay for it out of my sitting money.”
“So it was as easy as that.”
“It wasn’t that easy, Mother. It wasn’t an easy decision.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she said. “If you have to . . . experience everything now, what do you have to look forward to?”
The question hung in the air until the phone began to ring. The sound made the glass things on my dressing table vibrate. Three rings, then four before Mother slipped off the bed and went into her room. I heard her pick up the extension and say, “Hello?” in her usual, somewhat brittle voice. “Hello?” she said louder. “Hello? Hello?”
CHAPTER
Seven
Steve had a paper due on Roosevelt and the New Deal, so it was an effort to convince him that we were going out at night in the middle of the week. But I didn’t care where. The library would have been as good as anyplace else. Anywhere away from phones. And he was ready to grill me about my unexplained absence on Tuesday. I got off with a half truth, telling him about Dad
“But you take them, Mother. The only difference is yours are in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and I keep mine under my scrapbook in that drawer over there where you must have found them.”
She looked away then but went on talking as if I hadn’t said anything. “Well, then if you really didn’t get them from Dr. Cathcart, who on earth did you go to?”
“The Planned Parenthood Organization. Down on Meeting Street.”
“Where? You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“But that place is for—for
married
people.”
“Not entirely. They have a youth counseling division. Mrs. Raymond who works there says it’s the biggest part of the program.”
“Now don’t start telling me
all
the girls at school are on the pill,” she snapped. “Don’t tell me since
everybody’s
on the pill,
you
have to be too. It’s not a
driver’s license
or—or—”
“I’m not saying that, Mother. It’s just that I’m not the only one.”
“Well, is Alison Bremer on them too?”
“I don’t know, Mother. But no, I don’t suppose she is.”
“Did Steve Pastorini—”
“It was my decision. Entirely mine. But I did it because of Steve. That’s better than if I’d done it because of . . . a lot of boys, isn’t it?” I waited a long time for an answer to that, but I didn’t get it.
Instead, Mother said, “Well, tell me how you got them—thepills. You can’t just march in that place and demand a prescription, can you?”
“No. There’s a whole procedure. Nobody told me about it, and I was scared when I went in the first night. But the volunteer there, they call them support workers—it was Mrs. Raymond, and she—”
“What Mrs. Raymond?”
“I don’t know her first name. She volunteers there in the evening.”
“You don’t mean Eleanor Raymond in my garden club!”
“Yes, she’s the one.”
“Why I see Eleanor Raymond every week. She—well, go on.”
“She was very helpful. She knew who I was, but she didn’t make a big thing about it. We went over the various birth control devices. She had a sort of set patter for it, but left time for me to ask questions. She volunteers there because she wants to help people, Mother.”
“Yes . . . I suppose so.”
“And then she told me to come back in a week after I’d thought things over. Decided which method I wanted, if any.”
“And then you went back there. How did you have the nerve?”
“I just did. And I said I wanted the pill. I had to see a doctor that time. He was volunteering there too. A gynecologist. I don’t know where his regular practice is. And after an examination, he gave me a prescription.”
“A thorough examination?”
“A pelvic examination. I have the prescription filled at Walton’s Drugstore, and I pay for it out of my sitting money.”
“So it was as easy as that.”
“It wasn’t that easy, Mother. It wasn’t an easy decision.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she said. “If you have to . . . experience everything now, what do you have to look forward to?”
The question hung in the air until the phone began to ring. The sound made the glass things on my dressing table vibrate. Three rings, then four before Mother slipped off the bed and went into her room. I heard her pick up the extension and say, “Hello?” in her usual, somewhat brittle voice. “Hello?” she said louder. “Hello? Hello?”
CHAPTER
Seven
Steve had a paper due on Roosevelt and the New Deal, so it was an effort to convince him that we were going out at night in the middle of the week. But I didn’t care where. The library would have been as good as anyplace else. Anywhere away from phones. And he was ready to grill me about my unexplained absence on Tuesday. I got off with a half truth, telling him about Dad
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