Page 43 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

“No.”

“What is it then?”

“I don’t know,” I breathe.

Jerald leans over the food he laid out so nicely. I can see slivers of gold tucked into the pale green of his eyes. There’s blonde stubble poking out where he missed while shaving. But it’s his lips that have me mesmerized, and I can see his tongue just behind his bottom teeth.

Am I leaning closer?

Why yes, I am.

I think this just might be a moment I’ll never forget.

Our lips meet, the best feeling I have ever known. The world has washed away, taking its sounds and smells with it. I’m breathing in his skin, feeling goosebumps sing into mine as his arm wraps around me, so he can pull me closer. But the food has other plans, and suddenly we’re laughing as we smash the bread. In his haste to pull back, Jerald loses his balance andhis elbow lands in the cherry pie, dead center.

I cover my my mouth, and Jerald looks up, eyes shining. “Guess we better eat?”

“Here,” I laugh, dragging a napkin over his elbow, folding it for a clean spot and doing my best. “This will be a stain.”

“Worth it.” He pulls out a pocket knife and slices the cheddar. We tear pieces from the smashed loaf and layer it with the meat and cheese on top.

“Tell me a story from the war.” His expression goes dark, so I hasten to add, “It doesn’t have to be a bad story. How about something fun that happened on your submarine?”

That does the trick. “Well now, keeping to the subject of pets, I could tell you about Ferdinand.” He glances up. “That hat sure does suit you.” With my mouthful I smile. “Ferdinand is a cockroach.”

I gasp a muffled, “Oh!”

Pleased at giving me a shock, Jerald continues, “You see, Ferdinandlives in the bread drawer. Every time we go in, there he is waving at us. We tell him, Hey Ferdinand, throw up a slice, would ya?”

Covering my mouth, I laugh.

Jerald tears off another piece, placing meat and cheese on it while he continues, “One of my buddies, Todd, named him and well, the boys and I don’t know what life would be like without old Ferdinand!”

“There is only ever one cockroach?”

“That’s right. Ferdinand doesn’t like anyone moseying in on his territory.” Jerald takes a big bite.

“My father would get a kick out of that.” We eat in silence a while, staring at each other and breaking into smiles for no reason other than it’s unusual to be looking at someone for this long. “Jerald, is it too forward of me to say that I’m going to miss you?“

He loses the smile. “I hope you do. You will write to me, won’t you?”

“Can I? I wasn’t sure I could. How does one get mail on a submarine?”

He frowns, “You can’t. But it will be held at base for me. I can send letters to you only when I’m on land.”

“How often is that?”

“We dock every thirty days or so to restock supplies. But at war, we don’t always know where.”

“So you’ll send me letters from all over the world?”

“When I’m able, yes.”

The heaviness of his meaning is felt deep in my heart. “I will write to you, Jerald. I promise.”

“Just want to warn you, all mail has to be opened to prevent classified information from getting into enemy hands.”

“You mean somebody will read my letters?”

---