Harry held her by the elbow as they walked along, taking small steps.
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"I'm ruining these shoes."
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"Shoes are meant to be walked in, Mama." A bird flew by. "Look at that," Harry said, pointing.
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"A bird," Bella said. "So what?"
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"So nothing. The whole world could be without birds. Would it bother you?"
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"You dragged me out here to talk about birds?"
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"I want to tell you something, Mama."
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Bella stopped and pulled her coat around her.
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"The story of the happiest day of my life," he said, not knowing what he would say next. What was the happiest day? His wedding? The day Maury was born? The day he moved into his big new office? No. Something farther back, simpler. "Remember when I graduated high school? June 1929. The seventeen-year cicadas were out."
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"Birds," Bella said. "Now bugs. So?"
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"So I was eighteen, and I had a white robe and a mortarboard with a gold tassel." He hadn't looked fat in the graduation robe. He'd looked massive, imposing, a walking Greek column. The day came back to him clearly. He could see the old-model cars on the street, big and shiny and black. "It was so hot," Harry said. The day had been all green and gold and white. On the bandstand were two hundred white scrolled diplomas tied with gold ribbons. Nearby, a green-and-white striped pavilion shaded long picnic tables full of iced lemonade, the glasses already sweating in the heat. The principal read the long list of names. It was hard to hear over the racket of the cicadas, the fuzzy gold insects that lived underground for seventeen years at a stretch, then emerged for a month to mate. Harry Goldring , the principal said. "Remember how slowly I walked across the platform?" he asked Bella. "I kept thinking, I'm the first person to graduate high school in the whole entire family. Me. Number one."
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"Number one," Bella repeated.
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"I remember that Polish girl who was the valedictorian," Harry continued. "She wrote the class motto. 'Each of us will go our separate ways, holding high the banner of excellence.'" Separate ways. He had believed it that afternoon. He had pictured himself living in his own small apartment, riding on trains, going to the movies on his
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