The Hours Count by Jillian Cantor Read Free Book Online Page B

loudly—yelling, really—but there were so many voices that I caught only a few pieces of conversation. They disliked President Truman and they felt Wallace would do a better job. I didn’t mind Truman myself, despite his silly loyalty oath. Ed and I had listened to his State of the Union address on the radio last winter and I had found it inspiring, all the goals President Truman had for the country. But I could hear Ed’s voice cutting clearly across all the others now: “Freedom and equality . . .” His voice curled on the words, and Julius clapped him on the back, while another man laughed and nodded in agreement.
    Ed worked for Julius at Pitt Machine Products now, Julius’s reorganized business, so Julius was not only Ed’s friend and our neighbor but also his boss. But I hadn’t seen Ethel much lately since the new baby came. David and I had stopped over here a few timesfor the children to play and for Ethel and me to share a cup of coffee. Ethel always seemed so exhausted, overwhelmed. Her back and her low blood pressure had been giving her trouble and on some days kept her in bed all day. I’d thought maybe I should try to find another friend for us in Knickerbocker Village. Yet none of the other mothers at the playground were friendly to me or David, who was turning out to be tall for a three-year-old and who still wasn’t talking. David and I had taken a few desperate day trips on the train to see Susan and the twins, but that had made me feel even worse, to watch her beautiful, whole girls, their voices ringing clear with the word
Auntie
now. They had just turned two. And I felt besieged by all of Susan’s inquiries about
why
David wasn’t speaking yet.
What
was wrong with him?
    Then yesterday, out of nowhere, Ethel had shown up at my door, inviting us all to come to the get-together tonight. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to a political meeting,” I said, unwilling to admit that I’d only ever gone to that one with Addie. “I’m not sure I’ll know what to say to everyone.” Ed had gone to meetings often when we were first married, and I would ask him about them when he came home. But he never wanted to discuss them with me and he would only say that they were
fine
. Over the years, his meetings had become fewer and farther between, and as I had David to worry about, I’d stopped bothering to even ask him about them. But suddenly I felt ashamed that I hadn’t asked more questions or had more knowledge. I was afraid that I would appear hopelessly out of it at the Rosenbergs’ get-together.
    Ethel laughed. “Nonsense,” she said. “It’s more of a party anyway. The men can talk politics, if they want, and you and I can catch up.” She had a lightness in her voice that I hadn’t heard from heryet and I wondered if, underneath, that was truly her. Ethel the woman, not Ethel the frazzled mother.
    So now Ethel and I were crammed into her tiny kitchen, pouring glasses of kosher wine into wide goblets. I poured with one hand and held on to a very tired David with the other hand. Frank Sinatra came suddenly from the phonograph, drowning out the voices of the men. The phonograph was controlled by a restless John, up far past his bedtime, but I preferred Sinatra’s smooth singing voice to that of my husband’s.
    “You can put him in my bedroom, if you want,” Ethel said, interrupting my thoughts and pointing to David. Her Richie was a quiet, gentle boy, in nearly every way the opposite of John, and he was already asleep in his crib.
    I hesitated, wondering if David would get upset if I put him down in Ethel’s unfamiliar bedroom. But he yawned and shoved his thumb in his mouth, and I thanked Ethel and followed her to their dark back bedroom to get him settled on the bed.
    “There,” Ethel said, putting a hand on my arm. “Now you can join the land of adults again. Come on, have some wine. I want to introduce you to my brother, David, and his wife.”
    “I’ll be out in a