Cooper By The Gross (All 144 Cooper Stories In One Volume)

by Bill Bernico

  With nothing more needing my immediate attention I grabbed my phone book and looked up a realtor I knew. I told him that I needed to sell my house and he agreed to meet me there later this afternoon to do an appraisal on it and then explain the listing procedure and commission agreement. I’d finished with him by two-thirty and drove to a trailer rental company and rented a small trailer for the things I wanted to keep from my house. I hauled those things to our new house and then made a second trip, filling up the trailer and pulling it to a Thrift Shop on Hollywood Boulevard. They bought almost everything I had and the things they weren’t interested in, I told them they could have for free. Suddenly they were interested. I returned the empty trailer, got my deposit back and headed home.

  The forties passed by without fanfare and Amy and I ushered in 1950 quietly at home, sitting in the living room drinking wine and watching the clock. We toasted at midnight and went to bed. When we awoke the next morning there was a slight trace of frost on the front lawn but the sun had burned it off before noon.

  My house sold just six months later in June and I put some of the money into our joint account and the rest into a college fund for our child. Amy was now in her eighth month and looked a little comical walking tilted back with her big round belly sticking out. I found out the hard way that she didn’t think there was anything funny about her appearance and she let me know the first time I made a harmless joke about it.

  Then one night in late June, Amy shook me from a sound sleep. “Matt, wake up,” she said.

  I stirred and turned over, pulling the covers with me. Amy shoved me harder this time and raised her voice. “Matt get up,” she said, pulling the cover off me.

  I sat up and blinked my eyes. “What, what, I’m up,” I said, still groggy.

  “Matt,” Amy said, “I think it’s time.”

  “Time?” I said. “Time for what?” And then I remembered her condition and sprang to my feet, slipping out of my pajamas and into my clothes. I was sloppily dressed and ready to head out the door when I looked at Amy, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightgown. She wasn’t due for another three weeks yet.

  “Aren’t you getting dressed,” I said nervously.

  “False alarm,” Amy said. “Go back to sleep. Sorry.”

  I sat down on the bed and looked at her. “False Alarm? You got me up for a false alarm?”

  “I said I was sorry,” Amy said.

  I sighed, got undressed and crawled back under the covers. I turned to Amy, gave her a kiss and fell asleep again.

  The next morning Amy was up sitting at the kitchen table drinking her orange juice and reading the morning paper. I poured myself a glass of juice and took a seat next to her.

  “Feeling all right this morning?” I said, kissing her forehead.

  “So far,” she said. “I think little Sarah wants to meet her daddy.”

  “Or Clay,” I said. “What does it feel like to you? Aren’t there some old wives tales that cover what it’s going to be based on how they kick or something?”

  “I don’t think so,” Amy said. “At least I’ve never heard of any.”

  I finished my juice and got up from the table. “Would you like me to make you some eggs?” I said.

  Amy made a face that told me eggs didn’t appeal to her. “I was thinking maybe a little ice cream, but we don’t have any.”

  “I can drive to the market and be back in twenty minutes with a quart if you like,” I said. “What flavor?”

  “See if they have any pistachio,” Amy said. “If not, get some of that stuff with the three flavors in it. You know what I mean, the chocolate, vanilla and strawberry all in one box.”

  “Neapolitan?” I said.

  “That’s it,” Amy said. “And while you’re there, would you see if they have any pumpkin pie? Lately I’ve just had this…”

  “Craving?” I said.

  “Yeah,” Amy said. “A craving.”

  “I’m on it,” I told her and went to the bedroom to get dressed. I emerged a couple of minutes later and pulled a piece of scrap paper and a pencil out of a drawer in the kitchen. I wrote down the items Amy had asked for and added pretzels to the list, stuffing it into my shirt pocket.

  “I’ll be back in a flash,” I said. “Don’t go away.”

  Amy laid her hands on her big belly. “Where am I going to go?” she said.

  I made it to the market in ten minutes and found the snack aisle and selected a small bag of pretzels. In the freezer section I found a frozen pumpkin pie and laid it in my cart as well. Then at the ice cream section I didn’t see either pistachio or Neapolitan and asked the clerk to help me. After a few minutes he concluded that he was out of both.

  “Well, then,” I said. “I’ll just take the vanilla and a jar of chocolate sauce.”

  I checked out of the market and drove toward our house. I had to pull over toward the curb and let an ambulance pass as it came toward me. Once it was past, I continued on toward home. I pulled into the driveway and saw several of my neighbors standing on my lawn talking and pointing. An alarm went off and I jumped out of the car and ran up to my neighbors.

  “What happened here?” I said frantically.

  “It’s your wife,” one neighbor woman said. “She went into labor and called me to come over. Her water had broke and she was lying on the kitchen floor when I got here.”

  Without answering the woman, I hurried back to my car and backed out of the driveway. I sped away down the same street the ambulance had taken when it passed me. The nearest hospital was just fifteen blocks south of our house. That had to be where they’d taken her.

  I pulled up in front of the hospital and left the car there, not caring if I got a ticket or not. The nurse at the reception desk was on the phone when I approached her. She could tell I was nervous and impatient and concluded her phone call and then looked at me.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  “My wife,” I said. “Did they bring her in here?”

  “What’s her name?” the nurse said.

  “Cooper,” I said. “Amy Cooper. She’s having a baby.”

  The nurse flipped open a clipboard and ran her finger down the list and closed the clipboard again. “They took her into surgery a few minutes ago. You’re welcome to wait for her in the waiting room just down the hall.” She pointed toward the waiting room.

  I walked into the waiting room and found two other men sitting there looking as nervous as I felt. I didn’t sit right away, unable to settle down. I looked out the window, picked up a paper and then laid it down again without reading it. I sat in one of the chairs but was on my feet again a few seconds later. One of the other men sitting there gestured at me with his chin.

  “First one?” He said.

  “Huh?” I said.

  “Is this your first baby?” The man said, half smiling.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “How long are these things supposed to take?”

  The second man joined in the conversation. “The second and third ones go pretty fast,” he said. “I know. This is my fifth. But that first one, well, that could be anybody’s guess. Don’t worry, your wife’ll be fine. Women do this sort of thing all the time, from what I’ve heard.”

  “I suppose,” I said. “But the waiting.”

  The first man extended his hand and spoke up again. “Mel Dobbs,” he said, shaking my hand.

  The first man stood now, also offering his hand. “Ken Lewis,” he said.

  “Matt Cooper,” I said, nodding at both of them.

  “Cooper,” Mel said. “Any relation to Jim?”

  “Jim?” I said.

  “Yeah, you know,” Mel said. “Jim Cooper. He wrote Last of the Mohicans.”

  I smiled. “I get it,” I said. “James Fennimore Cooper. No, not that I know of.”

  Ken decided to get into the act. “What about Gary or Jackie?” He said. “Any connection there?”

  I shook my head. “I’m afraid not.”

&
nbsp; The two men had succeeded in helping keep my mind off my waiting and I suspect that was their aim because a few minutes later a nurse came into the room and said, “Mr. Lewis?”

  Ken stood and hurried over to where the nurse stood. “I’m Lewis,” Ken said.

  “Mr. Lewis, you have a daughter,” the nurse said. “Mother and daughter are doing fine. You can see them in just a few minutes. They’re bringing them down now.” She left the room and Ken smiled broadly at the two of us.

  “Congratulations,” Mel and I both said to Ken. “Number six,” I said. “How many of each do you have now?”

  “This is my first and only daughter,” Ken said. “The first five were boys and Nancy and I wanted a girl.”

  Mel shook Ken’s hand. “Well, now you got your wish. Did you pick out a name yet?”

  “Norma,” Ken said. “It was Nancy’s mother’s name.”

  I gestured toward the door. “Go on, Ken,” I said. “Go meet your daughter.”

  “Thanks,” Ken said, leaving in a hurry.

  “That’s one down and two to go,” Mel said, referring to the two of us still waiting. The door opened again and another man walked in and began pacing. Mel looked at me and smiled. “Make that three to go.”

  Mel’s turn came and he left the room, knowing that he’d have to come up with a name for his new son. The last man who’d come into the room looked at me and shrugged.

  “It’s down to us, I guess,” he said.

  I nodded. Twenty minutes later the nurse returned to the waiting room and said, “Mr. Cooper?”

  I quickly stepped up in front of the nurse. “I’m Cooper,” I said.

  “Mr. Cooper,” the nurse said, smiling. “You have a son. Mother and son came through it just fine. She’s waiting for you in three twelve down the hall.” She opened the door to the waiting room and pointed down the hall.

  “Thank you,” I said, almost giggling as I hurried down the hall and found room three twelve.

  I slowly opened the door and poked my head inside. Amy was laying there, her bed cranked up at the head. Wrapped in her arms was a blue blanket with a tiny head poking out of it. I cautiously stepped up to the bed and looked down at the tiny face. His eyes weren’t open but his mouth was. One hand stuck out from under the blanket and the smallest hand I’d ever seen flexed open and shut. I laid my finger into the small palm and the tiny hand closed around it. The smile on my face was automatic as I turned and looked at Amy. She was smiling and tears were running down her face.

  “We did it,” she said. “Isn’t Clay perfectly beautiful?”

  Then it dawned on me. This was my son, Clay. I kissed Amy on the forehead and then broke down in tears. I laid my head on Amy’s chest and held her tight, sobbing with joy.

  I stood back up and turned away from Amy, wiping my eyes with my handkerchief. I blew my nose and stuffed the handkerchief back into my pocket. I looked down at Amy again.

  “He’s perfect,” I said. “Can I hold him?”

  Amy nodded, still a little weak from the delivery. I took Clay from her arm and cradled him in mine, pushing the blanket away from his little face to get a better look at him. I rocked back in forth without moving my feet.

  “Hello, Clay,” I said to the bundle in my arms. “I’m your daddy.” I glanced over at Amy. She was crying harder than before and it looked a little out of place coupled with the smile that wouldn’t leave her face. I took another long look at my son’s face before returning him to Amy’s arm.

  The nurse came into the room and said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now, Mr. Cooper,” she said. “Mrs. Cooper needs her rest and the baby needs to be fed. You can come back later this afternoon and see them again.”

  Amy nodded at me. I bent down and gave her a kiss before I left. “I’ll be back later,” I told her and went out into the hallway. On my way out of the hospital I passed the waiting room and looked in. The third man who’d come in last was still sitting there, waiting his turn for a visit from the nurse. I poked my head in and said, “It’s a boy. A beautiful boy.”

  “Congratulations,” the man whose name I never learned said. I smiled at him and left again.

  My car was still parked in front of the hospital but there was a parking ticket wedged under the driver’s side wiper blade. I stuffed the ticket into my pocket and drove to the twelfth precinct to share my good news with Dan. He was standing next to Hannah’s desk going over some papers she was holding.

  I held out the parking ticket and said, “Dan, can you fix this for me?”

  Dan took the ticket and looked at it. “Did you park where you weren’t supposed to?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Then I’d suggest you just pay it and forget about it,” Dan said.

  “Take a look at the address on the ticket,” I said. “Ring any bells?”

  Dan studied the address and said, “Must be close to the hospital. You get in some ambulance’s way?” Then it came to him. “Wait a minute, this is the hospital’s address.” He looked up at me with a question on his face. I nodded.

  “It’s a boy,” I announced. “Seven pounds, eight ounces and he’s perfect.”

  “How’s Amy doing?” Hannah said.

  “She’s fine,” I said.

  Hannah got out of her chair and came around the side of her desk and hugged me, kissing my cheek before she let me go again. Dan shook my hand and clapped my shoulder with his left hand.

  “Daddy,” Dan said. “Congratulations.” He let my hand go, looked at the ticket again and tore it in half, stuffing the two halves into his pocket. “This one’s on me.”

  “What did you name him?” Hannah said excitedly.

  “Clayton Matthew Cooper,” I said.

  “Clay Cooper,” Dan said. “Has a nice ring to it. It’ll look good on your business cards when he joins you.”

  “Let him grow up first,” I said. “He’s only one hour old, for crying out loud.”

  I turned to Hannah. “Are you free for lunch?” I said.

  “Sure,” Hannah said.

  “Great,” I said. “Can you come shopping with me? I want to pick up a few things for Amy and Clay and I could use some female input.”

  Hannah looked at her watch. It was ten minutes before twelve. She shifted her gaze to Dan.

  “Go on,” Dan said. “And take Daddy there with you.”

  Hannah locked her arm around mine and walked with me out to the car. Before she got in on the passenger side, she looked into the back seat and saw a huge white mess all over the back seat. “What the heck is that?” She said.

  I looked back and remembered my trip to the market. “The ice cream,” I said, slapping my head with my palm. “Oh great.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Hannah said, hurrying back inside the precinct building. She came back out carrying a waste can and a handful of paper towels. She dropped the almost empty ice cream container into the waste can and began wiping up the melted ice cream with the paper towels, dropping them in the can as they became saturated. A few minutes later she had most of the mess cleaned up and returned the waste can to the ladies room inside.

  “Let’s go,” she said when she returned.

  I drove her downtown and she helped me pick out whatever I needed to welcome Amy and Clay home again. “Thank you so much,” I said before I dropped Hannah back at the precinct.

  “You just take care of your family, Matt,” Hannah said.

  “That’s one thing you never have to worry about,” I said. “They’ll have everything I can give them.”

  And I’d see that they did.

  32 - Concrete And Clay

  The gunman sights his target through the powerful scope mounted on his rifle. He twists the focus knob until the target’s image comes in crystal clear. He holds his breath, like he’s been taught, feeling his heartbeat pounding in his chest. In between beats he squeezes the trigger, still looking through the scope at what he’s hit. Bull’s-eye! The watermelon explodes in a spray of
red and green and the gunman imagines that this is what his victim’s head will look like when the time comes. He smiles, satisfied with himself.

  He reaches for his stopwatch and clicks it off, reading the time and writing it down on his notepad. Not bad, he thinks, but he needs to shave another three seconds from the procedure. To the left of where the first watermelon had disintegrated, he sees the second watermelon sitting on the six-foot stump. They’d been set up to simulate the approximate height of a real person. There were three of them altogether, and now there were two more left to practice on.

  Once again he starts from the beginning, clicking the stopwatch on and laying it down next to him. He quickly slides the bolt back, ejecting the spent cartridge and sliding another from the clip into the breech. His eye goes automatically to the end of the scope and he holds his breath again. Then the counting of the heartbeat and the squeeze and the second watermelon explodes with the same spray of rind and meat and seeds. He grabs the stopwatch and clicks it off, looking at his time. That’s more like it, he thinks—a full two seconds faster. Two seconds could make all the difference in the world, as far as he was concerned.

  The third time he managed to shave another second and a half off his best time and he knew he was ready. They’d be talking about this downtown for months, he thought, maybe all across the country. He clicked the stopwatch on again and began breaking down his rifle and slipping it into the padded suitcase with foam cutouts for each piece. Satisfied with his time, he grabbed the suitcase and hurried down the stairs and out to where the watermelons had sat on their stumps. He clicked the stopwatch off and checked his time. He smiled to himself and knew that the police would never be able to respond fast enough to catch him afterwards.

  It was time to take his act on the road.

  *****