Page 37 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

“You are my sunshine!” Hank sings, standing on the booth, “…my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey.” More kids join in until everyone is singing, “You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away!”

The air is cool outside as we laugh and continue the lyrics until we can’t remember them. I prop my jacket on her shoulders to keep her warm.

“Did you see Gertie joining in?” May beams and glances down to her dress. “I’m the only one still wearing what we wore to the fair.”

“I think you look swell.”

“Even if I wore a potato sack.”

“That’s right.” I toss my keys in the air, wishing time didn’t move as quick as it does when you’re having fun.

On the ride to her house, May hugs my coat tight around her body andasks, “What’s it like to live on a submarine?”

“No place for a lady, I can tell you that.”

“You sound just like my Father. He says that about the factories.” Caressing my coat’s lapel, she tells me in a voice not angry, but thoughtful, “I think you men underestimate us women.”

I frown,“That’s not what I meant at all. If anyone were to ask me, I’d say that women haven’t been given the chance to show what they’re capable of. Pops is of the same mind. He believes in equal rights for all, that everyone should have the opportunity to show what they’re made of — no matter gender, race, or religion. It’s only then that we’ll see real growth, that’s what he says. And I agree with him.It’s just, on a sub, the stench isn’t pleasant for a lady.”

May looks at me. “Stench?”

Turning onto the road she lives on, I explain, “Water is rationed. We often go ten days without bathing.”

“Oh!”

“On top of that, all the fellas smoke cigarettes, so add smoke and the faint scent of sewage and you’ve got home sweet home.”

May scrunches her nose. “Is it really as bad as all that? And you love it?”

Yanking keys from the ignition, I throw May a proud smile, “I sure do.”

I hurry to escort her up the path, porch light on and curtain falling back into place on one of the windows.

“Mother was checking to see if it was us.”

She hands me my coat as the front door swings open, and there stands Mr. Kearns, not Mrs.

“I hope I’m not late, sir.”

May exclaims, “Gertie and Lily were there! We had a malt-drinking contest, and we won, of course.”

Her Father checks his watch, sternness softening. “Can’t say that two measly minutes is late, now can I?”

“That’s awful good of you, sir. I appreciate it.”

Mrs. Kearns appears behind her husband, watchful of me.

May smiles, “Good night, Jerald. Thank you for a lovely time.”

“Pleasure was all mine, May.” As she walks inside, I tip my hat to her parents. “It was a real honor meeting you both. Good night.”

I head back to my father’s car, and Mr. Kearns calls after me, “Son?”

I pause in the middle of their path. “Yes sir?”

“When do you leave?”

“Monday, fourteen hundred hours, sir.“ I remove my hat, holding it in both hands.

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