Free The Hours Count by Jillian Cantor Page B

things have changed. No one wants to be a communist anymore.”
    “Oh, I don’t know that it’s the Party that’s changed, Millie,” she said. “It’s the whole rest of the world. Julie almost lost his first job with the Signal Corps before it even began because they drummed up some petition I’d signed years ago. And then he did eventually lose his job over his ties to the Party. It doesn’t matter that he’s a good man and a good worker. It’s all so silly. People are afraid. All this business now with the House Un-American Activities Committee. Honestly, what does it mean to be
un-American
?”
    It seemed obvious to me that a woman like Elizabeth Bentley who had admitted to giving American secrets to Russia was quite un-American, but I wasn’t sure what any of that had to do with men like Julie and Ed who’d lost their jobs over a silly loyalty oath. I agreed with her about that. “Is that why you’re not as involved as you once were?” I asked. “You’re afraid?”
    She laughed. “Oh, Millie. Most days, all the energy I have goes to caring for the children. Who has time for anything else?”
    I swallowed hard, Zelda’s words about wanting to take David echoing in my head. Now I wasn’t even sure what I’d do withouthim. What else was there, really, for a woman like me? A boring life spent sewing in a hot factory?
    Ethel leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Can I tell you a secret?” I nodded, happy she trusted me enough to ask. And I immediately felt bad that I’d placed her on Ed’s side, even for a second. “And you won’t tell . . . anyone?”
    By
anyone
I thought she meant Ed and that maybe she was picturing the way Ed had held on to my arm too tightly in her apartment last night and she knew I wouldn’t tell him a thing. “Of course,” I said. “I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”
    “I’m thinking about therapy.” She lowered her voice and tilted her head toward John almost imperceptibly so he wouldn’t notice.
    I thought of the doctor I’d met last night at her apartment and his card that had read
Doctor of Psychotherapy
. “With Dr. Gold?” I asked her.
    “Who?” Ethel raised her eyebrows.
    “That doctor who was at your party last night.”
    “Oh, no.” Ethel waved her hand. “I’d never met him before last night. I’m not even sure who invited him . . . no. The Jewish Board of Guardians.” The Jewish Board of Guardians sounded suspiciously similar to the organization Zelda Weiss said she worked for. “They accept payment on a sliding scale based on income”—I realized Ethel was still talking—“so we should be able to afford it.”
    I nodded, though I was not altogether sure what therapy entailed, exactly, nor why one went even for an affordable fee.
    “But you won’t tell anyone, right? I know I’m not supposed to believe in this sort of thing. But the truth is, I think I do believe in it. I think maybe if he can talk to someone . . . I don’t know, hemight have an easier time of things. It’s been so hard for him since Richie arrived.”
    I wasn’t sure if she meant that it was Jews or communists who weren’t supposed to believe in this sort of thing. I could imagine both my mother and Bubbe Kashe pishposhing the idea of psychotherapy, of doctors who wanted to dole out talk not medicine, and it also seemed like something Ed would be firmly against.
    To look at John right now, sitting here, playing so calmly with David, one would not think he needed anything. But the restless boy who blared his phonograph late into the party last night? I understood what Ethel was saying. John was older than David and his imperfections shone more obviously for all to see. Ethel was feeling desperate. She was doing everything she could to help her son. “You’re such a good mother,” I said to her. And then I had to tell her about Zelda. I felt certain that she would understand. “Ed wants to take David from me. To send him away,” I whispered so the