Page 1 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

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Zoe Cocker

I’ve never lived on my own, until now. Before, I shared an apartment with my cousins in West Midtown, a hip neighborhood here in Atlanta, Georgia. But then Samantha moved in with her famous man who we all love, and Lexi’s rebound one-night stand turned into happiness with a guy who truly appreciates her, and I predictbothcouples will stand the test of time.

Which leaves me without roommates.

And in a new home.

A studio apartment in Little Five Points, what some would call an even hipper neighborhood in “Hotlanta” if you count wild street art, food trucks, and colorful inhabitants, hip.

Which I definitely do.

Ahugeplus to mysmallplace is two-fold. Not only do I live just a couple of blocks away from my flora and fauna business, where I am currently working right now, but my studio apartment is also just around the corner from The Vortex, a restaurant we Cockers adore with its kitschy decor, a motorcycle hanging from the ceiling, a snarky menu of delicious items like plantains, chili fries and BBQ burgers, served by irreverent staff — the irreverence part of its built-in appeal.

Living and working this close to our family’s favorite haunt has made living alone for me not so lonely. Every time I’ve asked, I’ve had the company of at least one member of our big family at The Vortex for a meal… and sometimes deep conversation, which I usually only ever get when I meet with someone one-on-one, so now I tend to only invite them one at a time.

I prefer aone-on-one.

Not sure why.

Is it because I prefer deep conversations lately?

Perhaps.

I hadn’t really thought of it until now.

Something changes when you turn a two into three. Three is how many of us shared our West Midtown apartment and I guess, if I’m honest, I felt a little like a third wheel. Sam and Lexi are best friends, sisters actually. And then there was me — the floaty-headed one with a thumb greener than the brightest blade of grass.

Or maybe it’s because, since I was raised in a family of six, I was always part of a large group, so it’s refreshing now to be one-half of a two.

Growing up, it was me and my brothers in this order: Nicholas, me, Wyatt, then Nathan. Add in Dad and Mom — AKA Jeremy and Meagan Cocker — and that’s a house of six. Plus Matthew practically lived at our place, Nicholas’ best friend, so… seven.

And what with Dad being the youngest of Atlanta’s six notorious Cocker Brothers, all of whom had in total seventeen kids, there’s always been a large group around me.

If you include the Cocker cousins’ spouses and kids, wow! The numbers really multiply!

They’re wonderful.

They are.

But lately I prefer one-on-one.

I am Mom and Dad’s only daughter, and many have said that my brothers have sheltered me too much. But I don’t think so. I’m just not as wild as my cousins, Samantha and Lexi. Definitely not as wild as Lexi! That girl can make a whore blush. Hmm. ‘Prostitute’ might be the more politically-correct word, but it doesn’t have the same ring, does it?

Wait.

How did I get on that subject?

What was I thinking about?

This always happens.

I have ADHD, hence why people call me floaty-headed. Or is itfluffy-headed? Same thing. Either one is an adjective I’ve earned and don’t really mind, to say the truth. It’s not like I can help it. The good news is I have the kind of ADHD where when I’m focused on something I love — like floral design at my shop — I can’t hear or think of anything else. I get completely lost in the activity, sure, but I also always get a lot done with nothing interfering. Sometimes I even forget to eat. My unpredictable focus is why I had a really loud bell installed on my shop’s door so that when someone walks in, I look up. Like right now.

“Good morning!” Mrs. Porter smiles as she strolls in, glancing to the door as it howls at her. “How are you, Zoe?”

I push a stray lock of honey-brown hair away from my eyes to behind my ear. Capturing and piling into a messy bun today as I rushed to open my shop on time, wasn’t very effective. Pieces keep trying to escape. “Happy to be alive, Mrs. Porter. How’re you?”

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