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Jeannie was holding the rings, turning them over and over in her hand. “So, a year ago, he proposes to you, this Gary somebody who’s been coming to your bar for years, and he’s totally drunk. No sooner does he get the words out, than he pukes on his shoes. He never says a word about it again. Other regulars tease you both about it constantly, and you both just laugh it off. Then, today, he comes in here, tells you he’s not going to marry his girlfriend. He’s still waiting for your answer. He tosses these two rings on the bar, ties them up wit a ribbon and takes off?” Jeannie is turning the rings faster and faster. “Where are the damn ends of the ribbon? I can’t see them anywhere?”
“Who cares about the ends? What do I do?”
“You don’t know the guy, right…”
“Not really.”
“So you tell him no.”
“I did.”
“So what’s the issue?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel resolved about it.”
“You don’t.”
“No.” Sam threw up her hands. “And I don’t know why.”
Jeannie stood up from her stool.
“Where are you going?” Sam spun on her stool to follow Jeannie as she walked.
“I’m opening your bar for you. You need to get on with your life starting right now.” Jeannie flipped the sign so it read closed from the inside. “You can think while you pour beers.”
For the next few hours, Sam poured beers and shots and did her usual hostess thing as well as ever, almost. She also talked with Jeannie. She said things like, “He’s always seemed like a real sweet guy,” and, “this thing with the rings and the ribbons is so intriguing,” and, “it really seemed like he meant it when he said he was in love with me.”
Jeannie drank a few beers, flirted with the good-looking customers as well as ever, almost. She also talked with Sam. She said things like, “Here, maybe he’s sweet, but at home?” and, “it’s kind of spooky if you ask me,” and, “maybe he’s an actor. You said yourself you don’t know what the guy does for a living.”
Sam said, “I know,” and, “I know,” and, “I know.”
They dropped it. Sam just ran the bar, and they talked about Jeannie’s job search for a while. Sam had maybe almost even forgotten about the strange proposal. A really handsome guy she’d never seen in the bar before had come in and was flirting with her, and she was flirting back, gently when Jeannie asked the question.
“Does the ring even fit?”
“How should I know?”
Jeannie held out the satin covered rings. They both stared at this odd eight. For the first time, Sam picked the thing up and held it in her own hand. Once she felt its weight, without thinking, she slipped the smaller loop onto her left ring finger. It went on fairly easily. “Yes, it seems to fit.”
Jeannie snickered and giggled a bit.
“What’s so funny?” Jeannie just laughed harder. Sam went to take off the ring and asked, “What’s so damned funny?”
“I don’t know. Honestly. I don’t know.” But she kept on laughing.
“I can’t get it off.”
“What? Bullshit.”
“No, really, I can’t. It’s stuck.”
“Fuck.” Jeannie looked quickly around the bar. “Hey, Kenny! Yeah, Kenny, over here. Listen, Sam’s got a little problem. It might take us a few minutes. Can you look after the bar while we’re in the can?”
“Oh, sure.” Kenny came around behind the bar.
Sam could tell that Kenny thought it was some kind of menstrual thing. Bloody pants or something like that. “Let him think that,” she thought. “It’s better than what’s really going on.”
In the bathroom, they tried everything. Twisting, soap, water – cold and hot. Jeannie pulled and Sam twisted. Sam twisted and Jeannie pulled. The damn ring would not come off, and Sam’s finger was starting to hurt from all the pulling and worse, to swell.
“It’s the ribbon.” Sam pointed to the larger ring protruding above her finger. “The ribbon is taking up space in the opening, making it too small for my finger. Oh, why the hell did I try it on? Why the hell? Why the hell?”
“Why did it go on so easily if it’s so hard to take off?” Jeannie wondered aloud. “Well, you’re going to have to marry the guy now. You took his ring.”
“They’re going to have to amputate my finger.” Sam’s voice shook. “It’s turning purple.”
“We’ve got to get you to the hospital.” Jeannie pulled Sam to her feet.
“No. They’ll cut the ring off. It’s not mine.”
“You just said yourself they’d have to amputate. If it’s not the ring soon, it’ll be your finger.”
Sam looked down at her swelling and discoloring finger. She could no longer bend it. In fear and exhaustion, she said, “Alright. Hospital. You drive.”
Jeannie opened the restroom door.
Sam gasped and tried to cover the ring. “Gary!” She followed Gary’s excited gaze and realized, she had covered her right hand with her left, in actuality showing him his rings instead of hiding them. She backed back into the ladies’ room. Gary followed.
“Your finger,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” said Sam.
They both stood then, gaping at each other.
“Hospital now,” said Jeannie.
“Circulation,” explained Sam.
“Go get ice, lots of it, in a bucket, with water.” Jeannie only blinked at Gary. He said, “I’m a doctor.”
Jeannie ran out to the bar. They could here her holler, “Kenny, ice water, in a bucket, lots of ice, fast. FAST.”
“Show me.” Gary took Sam’s left hand. He grabbed the protruding, larger ring and gave it a twist. Sam screamed in pain, and Gary’s hand slid off the slick silk. He twisted again. Again Sam cried out. Again Gary could not find enough purchase on the shiny fabric to exert the force he wanted.
“What the fucking hell are you trying to do? Break my goddamn finger off? It hurts enough already without your trying to twist it into new and exciting shapes.” Sam was crying hard now. Jeannie entered with a bucket full of ice and water.
To Sam, Gary said, “You’ll have to trust me.” To Jeannie, “Is it cold?” As he spoke, as if he spoke to distract the two of them, Gary slid his own finger into the ring sticking out from the back of Sam’s hand.
Sam flew into a rage.
Though it hurt her immensely, Sam shook her hand, and pulled at it and hollered grave obscenities at Gary. Gary’s hand, attached by the rings went along for the ride. A crowd of men and women thronged outside the room in the hall and had begun to spill in. Many people, Jeannie among them yelled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing to her? We’ll kill you ourselves if you lay a hand on her.”
“PLEASE!” Gary’s voice sounded petrified and angry and carried a power enough to hush everyone and even to still Sam’s struggles. “Will everyone please shut up, and Sam will you please hold still so I can fix this?”
There was silence and Sam nodded her assent. It looked for a moment as if Gary’s hand was resting tenderly atop Sam’s. Sam could see that his finger too was already beginning to swell. Then he suddenly twisted his hand so that his fingers no longer were at right angles to Sam’s, but parallel. Her scream of agony was intense. “Please,” he said, “it’s almost over.” He reached between the fingers of his left hand gingerly as he could. “I had to do that to free an end.” With that, he picked an end of the ribbon from between his fingers and gave a solid tug. Slip knots all, every tie popped free and the two-foot length of ribbon came away in that single pull. Their hands separated. Sam had fainted.
Gary plunged her hand into the ice water and the shock of the cold roused Sam who immediately and without thought slapped him solidly across the face with her right hand. “I’m sorry.” She said. She wasn’t sure if she was sorry for slapping him, but she genuinely was sorry.
Between the ice water and the now larger ring in the absence of satin, the swelling in Sam’s finger quickly abated. Slowly the crowd trickled away until only Sam, Gary and Jeannie were left by the time of last call.
“Go home, Jeannie.” Sam gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you for coming to talk.”
“Go home? You sure?”
Sam nodded and Jeannie headed out.
Gary was left alone in the bar with Sam. They sat together on the cold tile of the Ladies’ room for quite some time.
“I’m so sorry.” They spoke together. And they laughed, each understanding and accepting the apology of the other.
“My hand is cold. I can’t give you back your ring today. My finger is still much to swollen to get it off.”
“That’s ok.” Gary pulled the ring off his own finger and dropped it into his shirt pocket. “I’ll drive you home.”
“I live just above the bar.”
“I’ll walk you up, then.”
“Thank you.”
At the top of the stairs, Sam turned. “I’m sure glad you showed up when you did. Thank you for saving my finger.” She gave him a peck on the cheek, and spilled some ice water on his pants. “Oops. Sorry.” She opened her apartment door and he began to trod down the stairs.
“Gary.” Sam called for him to wait. “What are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?”
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