Page 93 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

“Officer Gibbons!”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about all of this. You being in the middle and all.”

A smile lights up his otherwise weary face. “You’re the first person to call me Officer in years. I forgot how much I like the sound.” Dipping his chin as goodbye, he strolls away at a slower pace than he had back in the day, but his back is still straight. Time won’t take that from him.

Piedmont Park… didn’t May say something about that?

In my best suit, I walk to where I left the car, pausing to find Pops and Mr. Kearns waiting by it. “You knew I’d be punctual.”

“Indeed.” Pops glances to his glowering friend. “Fred and I will ride with you, since you don’t know where to go.”

“I thought it was Piedmont Park.”

“Do you have any idea how vast that park is?”

“No.”

“I’ll drive.”

“Mr. Kearns,” I begin, facing his wrath head on. “As I told your wife last night, I love May very much. From the bottom of my heart, I always intended to marry her.”

His eyes flicker and fall. “She deserved better than this.”

“Say now, my boy is as fine as they come!”

“Raymond, I meant the hotel.”

I stare at him as Pops says, “Come again?”

Mr. Kearns points to the hotel. “Why not the Georgian Terrace?! My daughter deserves the damn Terrace!”

Pops is stunned.

I clarify, “Sir, am I to understand it’s not me you object to?”

Mr. Kearns exhales loudly, nostrils losing their immense width. “I think you are a fine candidate for her hand. I just wish…” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stares at the pavement. “I just wish my baby hadn’t grown up so fast. I knew this was coming. I didn’t know how fast!”

Cars and pedestrians pass our silent trio without a second glance. They don’t know that family is being formed at this very moment.

I extend my hand, “Mr. Kearns, I promise to give May the Georgian Terraces of the world from now on. You’re right. She deserves that and more. Your daughter lifts my soul, sir. I will be the best husband for her. No other could do a finer job, you’ll see.”

His lips tighten with acceptance, eyes shining as he takes my hand and pumps it once.

“Hallelujah!” Pops explodes, “Let’s have a wedding!”

As he heads for the driver’s side, and we for the passenger’s, I ask, “What about your car?”

“Your mother has it! As soon as I gave her the license, she ran off saying something about a hairdresser!”

We climb in and get situated, both of them slamming their doors with a sense of purpose while I sit in back. “Pops, you mean the marriage license? You picked it up this morning?”

“Last night!”

“Last night?”

“That’s right!” Focusing on driving, he leans to look for oncoming traffic. Pulling away from the curb, he says, “Edmund and I go way back. We had a bit of whiskey with him at his home.”

---