Page 39 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

“Not too sure about that.”

Ma snatches the keys from a hook by the door. “And I think I’ll drive, too. Hank, why don’t you sit in front with me? Your brother can sulk in the backseat.”

A grin breaks free. “You made a fine mess of everything, didn’t you?”

He opens the door for her. “On the contrary. I’m quite proud of my endeavors in every way, shape, and form. After you, Ma!” The wise guy starts to shut the door on me. I grab it before he gets the chance. His laugh follows him all the way to the car.

“Let’s have the top down, shall we, boys?”

“Hold on a minute there!” Pops calls out. We all look over and see him buttoning his suit jacket, a hat under his arm.

“Raymond, if you don’t slow down this minute, I’m driving off without you!” Lowering her voice she says, “Hank, climb in back. Make room for your Father.” Raising her voice again, she shouts, “And don’t even try to suggest driving. I can’t make you stay home, but I will not have your exertion pushed to the limit.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,“ he mutters.

“Would you care for the top up or down?”

“How long have we been married?”

“Down it is.”

Now four hats ride to Sunday Mass, and Hank and I exchange a look that says it all.

Our Pops won’t admit it, but he’s a softy when it comes to matters of the heart. Though they argue, love is always the foundation. I believe that while he almost left this world, his devotion to Ma iswhat tethered him to it.

When he overheard there’s a girl I’ve taken a liking to, curiosity got the best of him. I imagine he would’ve come along even if we were heading to the Protestant church, rather than the Catholic. And that’s saying a lot for Raymond Cocker, Irish American through and through.

21

JERALD

We arrive with a few minutes to spare, but those are swiped by friends concerned about his health. “Wondered if we’d have the pleasure of seeing you at Mass, Cocker!” “You look fit as a fiddle, Ray! How did you manage it?”“Good to see you up and about, Congressman!”

May is seated on the opposite side of the aisle from us, a few pews up, her parents standing together on her right. The priest’s procession grants her the opportunity to look back, and our eyes meet. Her pretty smile makes my day, and I give her a wink in return with none the wiser.

Folks have asked why the Cockers don’t sit up front. Pops never fails to explain that he’s a man of the people, not above the people.

Some time ago, Father Timothy requested his presence in the front pew as the Father believes it gives his congregation status, although he didn’t say exactly those words. However, the meaning was clear. Pops politely turned him down and the subject was never brought up again. Ma believes Father Timothy was personally affronted by the decline, and she often watches his manner toward us in search of evidence to substantiate such a claim.

During the hymns I find myself watching May, the gentle slope of her jawline gracefully moving with her singing. She’s so tiny, I have to crane my neck at times. Not an easy task when you’re not wanting to draw attention to yourself.

Ma whispers, “I take it the lovely blonde in yellow is May Kearns.”

Pops hushes her.

To my left, Hank stifles a laugh. I glance over with an expression that silently tells him what a pain in the neck he is. This just makes him laugh harder, which of course doesn’t sit well with Pops.

“Hush!”

My brother and I stare forward, grinning.

After Mass, the congregation gathers outside for social hour. This is our Mother’s favorite part, since she wasn’t aligned with the religious ceremony, being of another denomination and all. But she loves to chat with their friends, and since we were seated closer to the door we are in the sunlight before May’s family.

I’m strategic in positioning myself so I can see her walk outside. This affords me my first glimpse of Mr. Kearns’ limp, and the proud set of his jaw says it’s on his mind as they approach.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ma spots them and she lights up. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Kearns! So nice to meet you. I’m Frances Cocker, and this is my husband, Congressman Raymond Cocker.” She points a gloved hand at Pops. “Jerald tells us he had the pleasure of meeting you both. But I’m not sure if you know our youngest boy, Hank.”

My brother politely tips his fedora at nearly the same time as I do. “Sir. Ma’am. Pleasure.”

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