Page 25 of Bozo

As I peruse the menu, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe Jer is right. Maybe it's time I started living for myself. And who knows? Perhaps in time, Connor will sort through his own feelings and be ready for something more.

But for now, I'll focus on being the best friend I can be to him, and on discovering who I truly am. It's a scary thought, but also an exhilarating one. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm on the brink of something new and exciting.

As I look up from the menu, catching Jer's warm, fatherly smile, I realize that no matter what happens with Connor, I'm not alone. I have people who care about me, who want to see me thrive. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough for now.

“Jer,” I ask a few minutes later as I take a sip of wine. “Why did you take me in? You didn’t have to. You’d have beenbetter off if you hadn’t. I mean—” I fumble over my words. It’s a question that’s been on my mind for a while now. I don’t understand why he’d want to become my guardian.

Jer sets down his glass, his eyes softening as he looks at me. For a moment, he's quiet, as if he’s choosing his words carefully.

"Gráinne," he begins, his voice gentle, "when I first met you, I saw a young girl who’d been hurt and abused, but I also saw a girl with so much potential, so much fire in her eyes. But you also carried so much pain in your eyes that it hurt to look at.”

He pauses, bringing his glass to his mouth once more and taking a sip. "I don’t know if you know this, but I have a son. One that I love with everything that I am. But to him, I am not his father. I am a man who screwed his mam while she was married to his father. I’ll never have that place that I should have. I’ve always wanted to have children. I just never found the right person to settle down with." He gives me a sad smile. I hate that he had to go through that. "Then you came into my life, and I saw an opportunity to be the father I've always wanted to be. To give you the love and support you deserved but never received."

His words hit me like a tidal wave, and I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back.

"But I'm not... I'm not an easy person to love, Jer," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm broken. I have so much baggage." Losing my mam at such a young age and then having my father be an abusive asshole has taken its toll on me and I feel utterly broken.

Jer reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. His grip is warm, comforting. "Gráinne, you aren’t broken, loveen; you’re just bruised. Over time, the bruises will fade.” He squeezes my hand. “And you, my dear, are more than worth it."

A tear escapes, rolling down my cheek. Jer pretends not to notice, giving me a moment to compose myself.

We fall into a comfortable silence as our food arrives. As I take my first bite, I realize how lucky I am. Not just for the food or the celebration, but for having someone like Jer in my life.

"Jer?" I say after a while.

"Hmm?" He looks up from his plate.

"Thank you. For everything. For being the father I never had."

His eyes soften, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something—pride, maybe?—in them. "It's my pleasure, Gráinne. Truly."

As we continue our meal, chatting about my studies and his work—the legitimate side of it—I feel a sense of peace settle over me. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I belong somewhere. Like I have a real family.

And even though my heart still aches for Connor, I know that with Jer's support, I can face whatever comes my way. Because now, I'm not just surviving. I'm learning to live.

One Week Later

"Christ, I’m struggling,”Mike says with a low groan. “I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t expect medical school to be this bloody hard.”

Mike is one of the guys from my class. He’s sweet and easy to get along with. I don’t have many friends. I’ve never been one to make them easily.

I nod sympathetically, understanding all too well the challenges Mike is facing. "I know what you mean. The workload is intense."

I pull my bag onto my shoulder, glad another day is over. I can’t wait to go home and crawl into bed and watch a movie. Jerry’s supposed to be away this week in Spain with Malcolm—his son.

"How do you do it, Gráinne?" Mike asks, his eyes filled with frustration. "You always seem so... together. Like you've got it all figured out."

I can't help but let out a small, bitter laugh. If only he knew how far from 'together' I really am. "Trust me, Mike, I don't have it all figured out. I'm just... good at pretending, I guess."

Mike looks at me curiously, and I can see him debating whether to probe further. Finally, he says, "You don't have to pretend with me, you know. We're friends, right?"

The word 'friends' catches me off guard. It's been so long since I've had anyone other than Connor that I could call a friend. I feel a warmth spreading in my chest at the thought.

"Yeah," I say softly. "We're friends."

“Grá, loveen,” I hear called out and turn, surprised to see Jerry waiting for me.

“I’ll see you around, Mike,” I tell him as I walk away smiling, happy to see Jerry. “Hey,” I greet as I reach him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Spain?”

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