Page 101 of When You Had Me Adapting

Since my team and I discovered the Bixito Parrot, I’ve been asked to complete interview after interview. I don’t mind it entirely. I realize that the attention on the story will help fund programs integral to the conservation of the rare bird, but my social battery is officially drained.

I flew home a few days early to visit my dad before my interview with the Atlanta Journal-Constitution that starts in ten minutes.

My dad, the AJC, and my team are the only people who know I’m here. I didn’t bother letting my roommate or friends know I was in town. It’s not the first time I’ve done this. I needed a break from people. Needed to clear my head and decompress.

Today, though, I have to muster whatever energy I have left, put on a smile, and talk to the reporter who contacted me about doing a story on me.

I walk into some trendy tea house in the Old Fourth Ward. I scan the small room looking for the woman I googled before heading over. I find her sitting in the corner of the shop sipping from a mug and checking her watch.

Meredith Russell is a beautiful Black woman about ten years older than me. Her dark hair is braided and wrapped up in a bun on top of her head. She’s dressed in a black blazer and a white blouse. She’s the picture of class and poise. She’s all business, and I’m immediately intimidated.

Glancing down at the T-shirt and shorts I threw on, I wonder if I should have dressed more professionally, but I guess it’s too late. I order a cup of coffee and walk over to meet her, trying to muster up the energy and courage I need to get through one more interview.

“Meredith?” I ask. “I’m Jacks Jackson.”

“Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me today,” she says, standing and shaking my hand.

“Sure thing,” I say, returning the gesture.

We both take a seat at the small table. “I hope you like tea. This place is quickly becoming my favorite spot in the city. Their London Fog is out of this world.”

“A what?”

“A London Fog. It’s like a café au lait but with tea instead of coffee.”

“I’ve never tried it. I prefer coffee.” I laugh, lifting my cup.

“Good, I’m glad you found something you enjoy.” She smiles and my shoulders relax a bit.

She places a recorder on the table and pulls a pad of paper from her expensive-looking bag. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?” she asks.

“Go for it.” I nod and take a sip of my coffee. “I have to admit I was surprised you were interested in interviewing me.”

She taps the record button with a manicured nail. “Really? Local boy rediscovers a bird that hasn’t been seen in fifty years. Sounds like the perfect story for our paper.”

“It wasn’t just me. I had a team of people that helped.”

“True, but if I understand correctly, it was your passion project, right?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“So, take me back. When did you know this was something you wanted to try to accomplish?”

I hesitate before answering, not sure what to tell her. My mind floods with memories of Lacey Sims and me trekking through the woods, looking for the mysterious bird that defined our childhood. The night before I left to go to D.C., our conversation and the promises that were made. All but one broken. Last I heard, she was still in Georgia, although I’m not sure where. Maybe I should try to find her and tell her I found it. But, how? Would she even want me to?

“Mr. Jackson?” Meredith says, drumming her nails against her notebook.

“Please call me Jacks.” I smile. “Sorry, I got lost in thought. What was your question?”

“I was wanting you to take me back to the beginning.”

“Right.” I sip my coffee trying to find the right words. “I’ve wanted to find it since I was a kid. I’ve always been interested in birds and other animals. When I was really young, maybe seven, a friend of mine gave me a book on lost species for my birthday.” I chuckle at the memory of unwrapping the book from Lacey. “I must have read it a million times. The Bix was one of the animals featured in it. The illustration was beautiful—light purple feathers trimmed with bright green.”

She nods and begins to jot down notes.

I swallow and continue. “I was mesmerized by the mystery behind it. It was like one day it had disappeared and I knew that couldn’t be the case. Entire species just don’t vanish off the face of the Earth. My friend and I would spend days playing in the woods around our houses, pretending to look for it. Those were some of my favorite memories as a kid. We never found it ofcourse. The Bix was native to Mexico and I guess now Brazil, but as kids we were sure we’d find it right here in North Georgia.”

“Was the friend the same one that gave you the book?” she asks.

---