Free The Swans of Fifth Avenue by Melanie Benjamin Page B

this one!” Truman plucked a snow-white rose from her arms. “Do you know what this reminds me of?”
    Babe shook her head.
    “When I was a little boy. Back in Monroeville. One Christmas, we had a parade of all the children. We all had to dress up—Nelle and I were stars, twinkling little stars. My cousin Sook made me a white jumpsuit, and she fastened pasteboard points on my head, my arms and legs—the five points of a star. She painted them snow white, as white as this flower. And I was so thrilled, because Sook whispered that my mama and papa were going to come see the parade. Oh, Babe, you don’t know how much that meant to me—I hadn’t seen them, you see, in months! Most of the brats in school didn’t actually believe I had parents, to tell the truth. And so I spent the entire week leading up to the parade telling everyone my parents would be there—why, they were even bringing a talent scout from Hollywood! Just to watch me! Or so I told everyone.” Truman studied the flower in his hands, twirling it.
    Babe stood still, afraid to move. She didn’t want to spill any of the flowers. She didn’t want to break Truman’s spell.
    “Well, anyway,” Truman continued, “the day of the parade, Sook walked me and Nelle to the school, where we were supposed to line up. ‘When will they be here? When?’ I kept asking, and Sook kept shaking her head and saying, ‘Truman, I just don’t know. Soon, I hope. Soon.’ She left me with the teacher, who lined us all up, and then we started walking down Main Street, toward the old courthouse. The high school band was playing Christmas songs, and there was a Santa Claus, and ranks of angels, and then, finally, us stars. I didn’t really concentrate on what I was doing. I just walked along, searching the sidewalks for any sign of my parents. Finally, I saw Sook and Jennie—the other cousin who cared for me. Jennie was scowling, as usual. I never saw that woman smile! But Sook, she just looked so sad, and when she caught my eye, she shook her head. So I knew that my parents weren’t coming, after all.”
    “Oh, Truman!” Babe, her arms still full of flowers, felt helpless to comfort her friend, who looked so young, so vulnerable, a golden wisp, as he twirled the flower, his blue eyes soft, mired in sad memories.
    Then he shook his head and looked at Babe. He smiled, brilliantly; a beam as vibrant as the flower he held. He started spinning, his arms outstretched; he whirled about, faster and faster.
    “So do you know what I did?” he called out, still beaming, his head turned toward the sun, his arms reaching out to the sky. “I
twirled.
I stuck out my chin and I twirled and twirled, the best, the biggest, the most beautiful star in the whole damn parade! I wasn’t going to let those brats see me cry. I wasn’t going to let Sook know how devastated I was. I wasn’t going to let my parents break me, in any way. I was simply going to be the very
best.
”
    Truman stopped, stumbling a bit as if he were dizzy, and his breath came in quick bursts.
    “And do you know what? I was. I was the very best star that day. I had the best time of any of them. And then I went home with Sook and she made me my favorite cake, a lemon cake, and we ate it together, every last crumb, in the kitchen, when it was still warm from the oven, a little drizzle of bourbon sauce on top. And I didn’t think of my parents at all. Not at all.”
    Truman took that white flower, and, gently tiptoeing up, he tucked it into Babe’s hair and kissed her on the cheek.
    “So there. Now you know. Something I’ve never told anyone before. Something I don’t want anyone else to know. A gift to you, from me.”
    “Truman, I—I’m so sorry. Earlier, I mean.” Babe gazed down at the flowers in her arms. “I used to love to drive, you see. I had the cutest little roadster, when I met Bill. But then, well—we had a car, and a driver, and that was the way it was. Befitting our position, naturally. So