Page 71 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

Her heels click away as she throws him a glance over her right shoulder. “Don’t think I am not aware that you have inside information on such things.”

Pops laughs, and throws me the keys. “If you can steer a submarine, you can steer my Lincoln.”

I whistle my way around the spotless hood of his pride and joy. “How long did it take to dry out?”

“Never bring that up again!”

Ma eyes him as he opens her door, thenclimbs in the backseat and gives her the front. “A guilty man’s gesture!”

“Woman, I have opened every door you have ever walked through since the day I proposed.”

As I pull away from the curb, I ask, “How about before?”

“We had a rather infamous argument regarding his refusing to open my door on occasions when he’d lost his temper.”

“A fact she will never let me forget.”

“I don’t see how you could!” After two blocks she confesses, “I am curious how Fred will behave today. He seemed quite out of sorts when we left.”

From the backseat comes a huge guffaw. She turns around to demand, “What’s so funny?”

“What if Fred treats Jerald like a king? What then? I daresay you would be disappointed!”

“What an appalling thing to say about me.” She faces forward and clicks her tongue.

The Catholic Church isn’t far from our house, another personal affront. She’s often teased Pops that he chose that house to sway her to Catholicism from sheer proximity and ease alone.

As we drive up, she leans close to the windshield and observes, “Quite a turnout!”

On a dirt patch not meant for parking I slow and poke my head out the window to make sure we don’t hit this oak tree. “Wait here!”

Ma watches me stroll around to open her door, a pleased smile shining from behind her window. She takes my offered hand, “Why Jerald, how delightful!”

Father climbs out next, and mumbles something about leaving his fedora here rather than putting it on and taking it off again the moment we get into church.

“You mean like every other man must do, Raymond?”

Pops grumbles and grabs his hat, slapping it onto his head.“Fine!”

“Oh look, there they are!”

I’ve already spotted May, a walking sunbeam. She waves at me and her Father takes her by the elbow, hurrying her inside.

My folks exchange a look.

I slide my hands in my pockets, stopping to stare at the nineteenth century architecture. If there is a God, he’ll help me get a ring on May’s left hand. He knows how I feel about her and that’s gotta count for something.

41

MAY

When you walk inside it always feels darker initially. But never here. Especially not when Jerald is back in Georgia to stay.

Father warns, “Don’t look so moony-eyed!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t look sorry.”

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