Yours Truly (Part of Your World, #2)

by Abby Jimenez

I grew up with a parrot. A thirty-year-old African gray named Jafar. He’s a bit of a jerk. He knocks things over and then blames the cat. He also likes the word (and you’re going to have to excuse the language here) “motherfucker,” so sometimes we’re treated to the sound of shattering glass followed by “The cat did it, motherfucker!”

lol!

Jafar just added “bullshit,” “cocksucker,” and “you’re sitting on the remote” to his twisted repertoire. We have no idea who taught him this, though I suspect it was my grandfather, who seems to enjoy a certain level of chaos at elegant family gatherings.

This was me making space for her, even though she would never know it. My way of saying thank you for her friendship, even if it was too quiet to hear.

Wouldn’t it be amazing to live like that? To not carry that burden around with you. To not feel constantly overwhelmed and overstimulated and second-guess every little thing.

he broke the trust in men that I’d need to ever be with one again.

I was alone with the old man. I smiled at him and he glared at me. “Give me a cigarette or I’ll tell Jacob you’re hittin’ on me. You got five minutes.” I choked on a laugh. “What?” “One cigarette and you roll me out to the gazebo and cover for me.” I shook my head at him. “Sir, you are on oxygen.” “What the hell is it to you? I’m gonna kick the bucket anyway! I’m half dead already. One cigarette. If you get me a whole pack, I’ll give you my Purple Heart.” I had to fight to keep my face straight. “I’m afraid I can’t do that for you.” He narrowed his watery eyes. Just then Jacob let himself back into the vestibule holding the wine from the truck. His dad wasn’t with him. Grandpa jabbed a finger at me. “She’s hittin’ on me!” Jacob paused, looking back and forth between us. “It’s true,” I said. “He’s handsome. I can’t help myself.” The old man scowled. He made a little fake lunge at me with his chair. Then he turned, pinning me with an impressive nonblinking glare, and left the room.