Page 26 of Bozo

Jerry smiles warmly as I approach. "Change of plans, loveen. Malcolm had some work come up, so we postponed the trip."

I can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment on his behalf. "Oh, Jer, I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward to spending time with him."

He waves off my concern. "It's alright. These things happen. Besides, it means I get to spend more time with you." He smilessoftly, but I know he’s been excited to see Malcolm. "Now, how about we grab some dinner? I'm starving."

As we walk toward his car, I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this story than he's letting on. Jerry's protective of me, sometimes to a fault. "Jer," I start hesitantly, "you didn't cancel your trip because of me, did you?"

He looks at me, surprise evident in his eyes. "What makes you think that?"

I shrug, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I don't know. It's just... You're always taking care of me. I don't want to be the reason you miss out on time with your son."

Jerry stops walking and turns to face me fully. His expression is serious, but his eyes are kind. "Gráinne, listen to me. You are not a burden. You're not keeping me from anything. I'm here because I want to be, because you're important to me."

His words wash over me, and I feel a lump forming in my throat. It's still hard for me to accept that someone could care about me this much; could put me first without expecting anything in return.

"Now," Jerry continues, his tone lightening, "how about that dinner? I was thinking Italian. What do you say?"

I nod, grateful for the change of subject. "Italian sounds perfect."

As we drive to the restaurant, Jerry asks about my classes, and I find myself opening up about the stress and pressure I've been feeling lately. It's a relief to share these thoughts with someone who understands, someone who doesn't judge.

We're seated at a cozy table in the corner of a small, family-owned Italian restaurant. The smell of garlic and fresh bread fills the air, making my stomach growl.

"So," Jerry says as we peruse the menus, "I couldn't help but notice that young man you were talking to earlier. Mike, was it?"

I look up, surprised, wondering how he knows Mike’s name. "Yeah, Mike. He's in my class. Why?"

Jerry shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "No reason. He seems nice."

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "Jer, what are you getting at?"

He holds up his hands in surrender. "Nothing, nothing. I just thought... Well, it might be good for you to spend time with people your own age. Make some friends."

I sigh, setting down my menu. "Jer, I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. I don't need?—"

"I know you don't need anything," Jerry interrupts gently. "But it's not about need, loveen. It's about living, about experiencing life. You're young, Gráinne. You should be out there, making friends, having fun."

I feel a familiar tightness in my chest; the anxiety that always comes when I think about opening up to others. "I'm not good at that stuff, Jer. You know that."

Jerry reaches across the table and takes my hand. His touch is warm, comforting. "I know it's hard for you, but I've seen how you've grown. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

I look down at our joined hands, feeling a mixture of gratitude and fear. "What if... what if I mess it up? What if they don't like me?"

"Oh, loveen," Jerry says softly. "Anyone who truly gets to know you couldn't help but like you. You're kind, you're smart, and you have a heart of gold. Don't let your past keep you from your future."

His words hit me hard, and I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I blink them back, not wanting to cry in the middle of the restaurant.

"I'll try," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the chatter of other diners.

Jerry squeezes my hand. "Try, Gráinne. For yourself."

The waiter arrives then, breaking the moment. We order our meals, and Jerry starts to talk about a dinner that he’s attending tomorrow evening with his family. He had two sisters; one died a few years ago, and from what I’ve heard about Nichola, she’s not exactly the nicest sometimes. But they’re Jer’s family and he adores them. He has two nieces and a nephew.

The stress I’ve felt today ebbs away as we talk. Everything is different from when I was younger. I’m not afraid to walk around the house or to come and go as I please. I feel safe and protected. I know that if I ever need anything, Jer will be there for me, as will Connor.

By the time we finish our dinner, it’s dark out.

"Thank you," I say once we’re leaving.

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