Page 75 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

Nobody’s here?

That’s peculiar.

Poking my head into the hall I look both ways and realize that the knock sounded kind of funny. I look behind me and see Jerald’s handsome face in the window holding his finger to his mouth. I cover my mine to keep from screaming in shock, blood racing. As quietly and quickly as possible, I shut the door and run over.

Unlatching the lock and swinging it open, I whisper, “What are you doing?”

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

His green eyes are troubled, whisper earnest, “I read your letters, May. I spent all day reading them. Did you mean it that you would marry me?”

“Yes!”

“Pack your things.”

“Where are we going?”

“To elope.”

I grab his face and kiss him. “Wait here!”

Dashing to my closet, I pause and realize that Jerald is hanging off the side of the house. Running back to him I ask, “Am I to climb out the window?”

“No way! It’s too dangerous.”

“Father is sleeping on the sofa downstairs!”

Jerald’s lips tighten as he searches for possible solutions. “Has he been asleep long?”

“I don’t know!”

“Here’s what you do. Pack up. Change into your pajamas. Pretend like you’re hungry and go to the kitchen. See if he’s awake. If he is, bide your time and do it again. Keep checking until you know for sure he’s out cold. Then tiptoe down the stairs with your suitcase. I’ll be waiting for you no matter how long it takes.”

I smile feeling like my lungs might bust, “Okay!”

He crawls down, and I stick my head out to watch. I never knew a drain pipe could make me so happy.

I own two suitcases. One is for family vacations or to visit my grandparents. For those trips I need to stock up. The other is much smaller for sleepovers at Sable’s house which we’ve had a lot of. It’s lighter so I choose that for sneaking out. In it, I throw my lavender shirtwaist dress, my Mary Jane heels, two pair of stockings without runs, and the blue taffeta dress I wore to the dance where I met Jerald. My bra and panties I tuck under everything, grab my hairbrush from the dresser, and toss that in, too.

Into the hall I walk, headed for the washroom as if it’s any other old night.

The house is awful quiet, and I try not to do anything funny. I’m sure I don’t usually brush my teeth this slow, but one can’t be too careful. Can’t raise suspicions by hurrying.

I hold the toothbrush against my side, walk out, and run smack into Mother.

Her hand flies over her heart. “May! You frightened me!”

“I’m sorry! Didn’t you see the light on under the door?”

“I suppose I’m half asleep. Just awoke from a nightmare and realized I hadn’t made use of the washroom before bed.”

Moving out of the way I nervously laugh, “It’s a good thing you didn’t! Otherwise you might still be having that nightmare. It woke you up! Having to go, I mean.”

“Yes,” she smiles, “I suppose it did.”

“Goodnight Mother!”

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