Page 66 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

Her smile is beautiful. “Of course there are! I don’t think they’re nearly as exciting as yours were, but they’re waiting, just the same!”

On our way to the lockers, Pops throws his arm over my shoulder. “I’d wager few things are as exciting as Jerald’s war stories, isn’t that right? Although your Mother and I have a beef with you. By no means did we receive anywhere near one hundred letters. Explain yourself!”

“You got me into an awful mess, May!” I laugh.

“Now Raymond, leave the boy alone! We did receive more than I expected we might, and I will have to be satisfied with that.” We all look at her and she throws up her hands. “I’m too happy to be mad!”

It’s over an hour before we’ve completed all that needs to be done, and I wave to friends as we stroll to the car Pops hired, me caring my bag from the sub, him with the one stored in my locker. Ma is elegantly clicking along at my side and asking questions about lighthearted things like meals, and how we kept ourselves occupied during rest periods. “Cribbage, mostly. Oh, and the fellas enjoyed your book, Gone With The Wind.”

“Is that where that went? I thought I’d lost it on one of our flights to D.C.! I didn’t know you were interested in that novel! What did you think of it?”

As we get in the car, pops up front with the hired driver, I laugh, “I wasn’t interested. It was one of Hank’s pranks!”

My parents laugh.

Though May knows the story, she’s swell enough to let me tell it. That’s real polite of her, and I appreciate it. There are only so many stories I can share with Ma that won’t upset her, and I want to be the one to tell them.

While taking May’s hand, I explain how within four months pretty much every sailor on board had read the book. “We all agreed Rhett Butler was a better man than wimpy Ashley, and we couldn’t understand why Scarlet hadn’t seen that all along.”

Ma laughs, “My word! I never would’ve thought! Had I known, I’d have sent you there with Little Women, too!”

“Oh, they would’ve objected like mad until there was nothing else to read, then watch them turn!”

I tell stories until we arrive at the runway, many I’d shared with May in my letters. Pops thanks our driver with probably the best tip of his life on account of the celebration.

Ma and May walk ahead of us to a small plane, stairs rolled up at its entrance. Pops is last to ascend as he explains with a breeze trying to lift his hat, “Congressman Hardy from Texas loaned me this. Man’s a billionaire, oil. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had three. Captain Wallace, this is my son Jerald, my eldest, the one we told you about! He helped us win this war!”

I shake the pilot’s hand, “Good to meet you Captain Wallace.”

He smiles, “A Navy man! Battleship?”

“Yes sir, that’s what brought us here, but my time was spent on a submarine.”

Ma offers, standing by. “Jerald is a planesman!”

Impressed, he says, “Steering the vessel yourself, very nice!”

“Me and three other planesmen, sir.”

“That’s one heck of a skill.”

“So is flying a plane, Captain.”

He laughs, “Indeed. I’m going to close the door, but if you folks need anything, I’ll be right up here. The weather looks good and we should have a smooth flight to Georgia!”

May and I sit together, my folks in front discussing the merits of owning a plane and how they wouldn’t want to think of storing costs. Or gasoline, what with the rationing, especially.

While they animately talk, I hold May’s happy gaze. Virginia to Georgia isn’t long by air, but it feels like a lifetime until I’ll get to see May alone.

I sure am glad they brought her.

Who needs food or sleep?

I could live on that smile.

Leaning close, Iwhisper in her ear, “Marry me.”

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