Establishment by Howard Fast

years old, May Ling, finding the situation of being Dan’s mistress and living in a shadow of his life intolerable, moved to Los Angeles. Two years later, Jean and Dan were divorced, but another two years went by before Dan and May Ling were married. Dan did what he could do to be a father to his half-Chinese son. Joe Lavette completed college and medical school, was drafted into the army, did his internship and residency in the South Pacific during World War II, and soon after his discharge married Sally Levy, Adam’s sister. They had lived in Los Angeles for the past two years, where Joe worked in a free clinic.
    Joe answered the telephone, and Barbara told him what had happened.
    â€œIt’s after eleven,” he said. “If I can still get a plane, I’ll be there tonight. What hospital did they take him to?”
    â€œMount Zion. It’s at Post and Scott, not far from here.”
    â€œI know where it is. Can you put me up for the night, Bobby?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œAnd if I can’t get out tonight, I’ll call the hospital and talk to Kellman. But I’ll be there first thing tomorrow.”
    Setting down the telephone, Barbara asked herself, “Do I tell Bernie?” But that, she decided, would be pointless, just as she had decided that it was pointless to tell him about the subpoena from the House committee.
    Barbara could not face the thought of going to bed; in any case, she was certain that she would not be able to sleep. She sat down with a book, but she was unable to concentrate, and after reading half a dozen pages without the faintest memory of what she had read, she put the book aside and switched on the radio. She twirled the dial until she picked up a news program, wondering whether there might not be something about Bernie and the planes. She listened to a congressman talk about America’s need for an uninterrupted flow of atomic weapons and switched it off in disgust. Again and again she reached for the telephone and pulled back her hand. She must have dozed, for it was two-thirty when the telephone rang, its shrill jangle bursting into her sleep.
    It was Joe. “I’m at the hospital, Bobby. Pop’s not going to die. He’ll pull through.”
    â€œJoe, are you sure?”
    â€œPretty damn sure. As much as one can be at this point. He’s still in intensive care and in an oxygen tent, but his vital signs are good. It was a fairly severe coronary infarction, and he’ll have to be on his back for quite a while, but he’s a hell of a strong man and he’ll come out of it. Did I wake you?”
    â€œI’m not in bed, Joe. I’ll wait up for you.”
    â€œAll right. I’ll take Jean home first. She’s not in good shape, and I’ll give her something to calm her; then I’ll come over to your place.”
    â€œOh, thank you, Joe. And thanks for rushing up here.”
    â€œNot that I could contribute anything. Kellman’s a good man, but I feel better now that I’m here.”
    She dozed off again. It was well after three when Joe rang her doorbell, and they sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee almost until dawn. Barbara told Joe about Bernie and then about the subpoena.
    â€œIt never rains but it pours. You poor kid.”
    â€œI don’t look at it that way,” Barbara said. “The marriage wasn’t working, and it wasn’t getting any better, only worse. It’s bad enough to have a marriage go down the drain when you hate the man. But when you love him—and I do love him so much, Joe—well, then it’s just awful. And about the subpoena, Harvey Baxter assures me I have absolutely nothing to worry about. Evidently someone on that Un-American Committee is literate enough to read and read my book about what happened to me in Europe, and Harvey says that they go out of their way to pull celebrities down there—not that I’m such a celebrity—and then