“Hmm. The narrower,” Penny decided. It was no time for modesty.
“Very well. What color?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. What color is the wool you’re using?”
“Flesh colored.”
“Then you’ll want a dark green or maroon to stand out against it. That will be easier on your eyes.” The salesgirl selected a long, narrow box from the shelf behind her. “Can I sell you some wool?” she asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Penny answered firmly.
“You’ll be needing a pattern,” the salesgirl suggested.
“No. I think I know the pattern. I’ve memorized it.”
“Really?” the salesgirl shrugged off her disbelief. “Well, these will be three-oh-five with tax.”
“I don’t want them both,” Penny told her. “I only want to buy one.”
“One? What can you knit with one knitting needle?”
“Peace of mind,” Penny murmured.
“I beg your pardon? I didn’t quite catch that. But in any case, we only sell them in pairs. You’ll have to buy both.”
“All right.” Penny figured she could always hold onto the second needle just in case of another emergency. You never know. She paid the girl and left.
Alone in her apartment a little while later she set about following Sappho’s instructions. They seemed simple enough. But-—
“I don’t understand,” the doctor said over the phone when Penny called him. “You’ve got a what stuck where?”
“I can’t explain,” Penny wailed. “Just get over here fast!”
He did as she asked and surveyed the situation. “Don’t move!” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Penny sobbed.
“Up to my mother’s. She lives right around the corner. I won’t be gone a minute.”
“Your mother’s! What for!”
“To borrow a crochet hook.” The door slammed behind the doctor.
“Modern medicine!” Penny sniffled.
The doctor returned as quickly as he’d said he would. He sterilized the crochet hook and did what was necessary. When he was through, he turned to Penny sternly. “Now just what do you think you were trying to do, young lady?” he demanded.
Penny told him.
“And you never even held a knitting needle in your hand before!” The doctor shook his head disgustedly. “That’s the trouble with all the professions today. Amateurs trying to perform like experts. Didn’t it occur to you to practice a little first? Make a pair of socks or something just to get the hang of it?”
“I don’t have time,” Penny sobbed. “Something has to be done right away. Can’t you help me?”
“And go to jail? Not on your life. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot knitting needle.”
“But what am I going to do?” Penny wailed.
“Go to Puerto Rico,” the doctor suggested. “You can practically take your pick of abortion mills there. I can put you in contact with a doctor who’ll see to it that it’s done safely, under hospital conditions.”
Penny took down the information. “Just one more question,” she said as the doctor was leaving. “How do I get to Puerto Rico?”
“Fly now, pay later,” the doctor suggested.
“I’ve never traveled much,” Penny said. “How do I go about making arrangements?”
“See your friendly travel agent.” The doctor shot her a reassuring smile and left.
The next day Penny visited a travel agent. “I want to go to Puerto Rico,” she told him.
“Certainly. I can arrange a flight and hotel reservations for about three months from today.”
“You don’t understand. I have to go right away.”
“Impossible. All the flights are booked solid. So are the hotels. If you have to have a vacation right away, why don’t you try skiing in Vermont. It’s not as warm, but it is available.”
“I don’t ski, and besides—”
“You could learn. No? Well then, how about Miami? I could get you into a hotel there in about six weeks.”
“It has to be Puerto Rico. And right away,” Penny insisted.
“How about Haiti? There’s a revolution brewing there. It makes for a very unusual and exciting vacation.”
“Puerto Rico.”
“You want my advice?” The travel agent leaned over the counter and spoke confidentially into Penny’s ear. “Have the baby. There’s a list of unwed mothers a mile long that come ahead of you. Puerto Rico’s out of the question.”
Defeated, Penny left. Desperate, she thought and thought about her predicament. After a few days she hit on one long chance. She decided to try it.
Penny got off the Brooklyn subway at the end of the line. Walking toward the ocean, she could see the long queue of people that marked her destination. She got on the end of the line. Casually, she studied the other people in line as they shuffled slowly forward.
“You come to Coney Island often?” The girl alongside her struck up a conversation with Penny.
“No. This is my first time.”
“Mine too. Aren’t you afraid to ride the roller coaster?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you on line to do it?”
“Why are you?” Penny countered.
“A guy named Joe,” the girl admitted frankly. “And you?”
“The same situation.”
“Well, we’re not alone.” The girl gestured to include the line.
“There certainly are a lot of girls here by themselves,” Penny agreed. “And some of them look so desperate.”
“Well, aren’t you desperate?”
“I certainly am,” Penny admitted.
“Me, too. Well, here we go.” The girl stepped up to the ticket booth for the ride.
Penny followed her. “Three rides,” she told the cashier.
“Here you are.” The cashier handed Penny the tickets. “And I hope it works,” he added sincerely. “But I’m afraid there’s no guarantee.”
Penny joined the other girl in the first car of the roller coaster. They fastened the bar which locked them in and after a moment the machinery whirred and they were climbing toward the sky.
“Whee!” the girl shouted as they plunged into the first descent.
“I feel sick!” Penny decided.
“Well, that’s the idea.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean nauseous.”
“Then lean away from the wind on your own side of the car. Here we go again. Whee!”
It went on like that for a long, dizzying time. Finally, keeping a tight check on her gorge, Penny disembarked. The other girl reeled alongside her as they walked away from the roller coaster.
“How are you feeling?” she asked Penny after a while.
“Better. Not so dizzy anymore. But it was all for nothing. I can tell.”
“Yeah. Me too. Well, I guess I’ll just have to hit Joe for the money and go to the quack.”
“You mean you know somebody who will—?”
“Sure. You mean you don’t?”
“No. That’s why I came here. It was only as a last resort. If I knew of a doctor who’d help me, I never would have put myself through this.”
“You want his name and all the rest of it?”
“I certainly do. I’ll be everlastingly grateful,” Penny told her sincerely.
“Glad to do it.”
Penny wrote down the information the girl gave her. She thanked her again, treated her to a hot dog, and caught the subway back to Manhattan. It was just getting dark when she reached the address her newfound friend had supplied.
The house was a rundown brownstone, one of a group which lined both sides or the street, on the upper west side of Manhattan. There were two bells just outside the door. The name card above the lower one told Penny that the offices of Mothers’ Helper, Inc. was located on the ground floor of the building.
She pushed the button and a moment later there was an answering buzz that admitted her to the inside hallway. There was a door with a sign on it at the far end. Penny walked to it and entered.