Gentle Culpepper | The Damn Ring

I was sitting on my barstool counting my knees. The day had been easy and clean. I rescued a lady bug that had trapped itself inside my 1983 Saab Turbo. The kindly bug thanked me profusely as it flew out the window. That surprised me. Lady bugs usually ain’t long on conversation.

My Favorite bar, Francine’s, sat on the boundaries of love, hate, peace, justice. The clientele were middle class white people. They were well-behaved. No one was ever asked to leave for being unruly. These folks could hold their liquor. Nobody ever fell down. I learned from this crowd.

My name is Rain. I am a devout underachiever, a status I rejoice in. My efforts to keep a low profile in life have often failed. I keep trying.

I lived across the street from Francine’s in a single apartment. My palace entailed a living room, kitchen and bathroom. The bed was hidden in the wall. The sun never entered. I made peace with the bugs. They wouldn’t appear when company came; I wouldn’t squash them with the ball-peen hammer. I executed cousins, uncles, mothers, fathers without the slightest bit of remorse.

The building was brick, old, stubborn. Retired domestics from Hollywood’s golden era lived there. The elderly folk told wonderful stories of stars and rich folks they worked for. I drank good liquor as they spun their tales. The tenants were an adverse crowd of gays, straights, actors, singers, common peaceable folks. We all minded our own business. Except we could never catch the guy who kept peeing in the elevator.

Lady Margaret, the owner of Francine’s approached me. She was a tall, cool, sassy blonde in her mid-sixties. “You gonna sing for us tonight, Rain?” I did not feel like singing. I just wanted to sit on my barstool, recount my knees, chat with strangers. The noisy world had betrayed me again. I lost my girl. It was all my fault.

“Maybe later, Miss lady.”

“Okay, Rain. Seek your pleasure, dear.”

The year I met Kayla lies dead in its grave. She was sitting in the backseat of sister Dione’s car. Her brown skirt reached just above her knee. I could imagine what the rest of her looked like. I could smell her teeth. Her smile was warm, complete. The breath of a new garden sleeping in the sun. The lady was gorgeous, calm, cool.

I was walking south on North Vermont, when without warning the voice spoke. We all know what the voice is: that grand commandment that travels from the far side of the galaxy that attacks you. It lands right in the middle of your head. The voice tells you to perform a specific task. My orders were to fly down to Georgia, land of voter suppression, to see how my sister Dionne was doing. She’d hooked up with a gun-carrying thug. I didn’t like him. He shared his life with beet red eyes.

Dionne picked me up at the airport. I loved her friend at first sight. She gave me her number. I flew back to Los Feliz. Slept all the way. I shined my sneakers, brushed my hair in anticipation of my next visit.

Tony, a gifted pianist, was singing an old standard. He laughed when he caught sight of me.

“Hey Rain, my man, good to see you fellow!” He was a loud, kindly Latino man about forty.

“Tony, it’s always a pleasure.”

“Let’s do One for My Baby, okay?” Tony was magic with a piano. The well-mannered crowd drank their booze, lent an ear.

Me and Kayla talked everyday by phone. I was better at phone sex than the real thing. We’d fool around for hours:

Hello baby, what’s going on?

Oh nuthin’, just resting after a long day.

Oh, okay. Sooooooo what are you wearing, sweet thing?

What chu wanna know for, Rain? Why you asking me that?

Well, I just wanna get you to relax a little bit that’s all. C’mon pleaaase?

You so crazy, Rain, she giggled.

Well, seeing as how you’re so inquisitive. I have on a sky-blue housecoat.

Now, see sweetheart—was that so hard?

No Rain, it wasn’t.

What chu wearing underneath the house coat?

Now see here Rain! I don’t know where you goin’ with this. I’m a church girl and I don’t allow no funny stuff.

Now look, baby. I’m stuck all the way up here in L.A. missing you. Frankly I’m getting a little warm. My name is Rain.

I know what your name is.

Okay, lover. Here’s what I want you to do next…

We burned up the phone lines with rabid enthusiasm. We made quick decisions. Would I move down to Georgia? Of course—no need for her to leave her family. I wasn’t thinking clearly but it didn’t matter. I genuinely loved the woman. My $15 shoes left the ground with me in them. I finally hit the mark. I finally did something right. She was a jewel, an angel. We were headed in the right direction—

Until I bought that damn ring.

“… Well make it one for my baby and one more for the road…”

The ovation was rapid and welcome. I thanked Tony and smiled. I drifted back to the bar. There was a vodka martini waiting for me, courtesy of the house. The grand lady always took care of me. I drained the glass in two gulps. I officially awarded myself the honor of being religiously intoxicated. I wasn’t happy but I was cool. I was always cool when I got drunk. What the hell else could I be? The only problem was it took a while for me to remember where I lived. I knew it was close.

I waved goodbye, amid a chorus of:

“Take care Rain, watch your step!”

I walked an incredibly straight line to the door. The night air hit me like a big rock. The world started to spin. North Vermont is alive at one a.m. in the morning. Folks just as loaded as I were walking arm in arm, playing, laughing. I leaned against my old friend the mailbox until I got my bearings. Okay, Mr. Rain, what’s next? The sober part of me that was lounging in my shoe started giving me orders. I hated that.

Okay, moron look for your door. You live right across the street. Do you see it?

“Huh?” I said.

Do you see the door, fool?!

“OOH, yes I see it.”

Okay, point to it.

“WHAT?!”

I said: point to the damn door, jackass!

“Now look, you don’t have to get rambunctious here.”

I am getting sick of this crap. Every time you get some freedom you—we—end up hugging the mailbox.

“Now look, bub, you been running my life all day as a sober persona. Now tonight it’s my turn. Now you take your sober-ass character right back into my shoe where you belong.”

Rain, I swear I’m gonna take you to an AA meeting tomorrow. Now wait till the light turns green.

“Wait till the light turns what?!”

GREEN, ASSHOLE, GREEN!

The light turned green. I started across the street slowly. The door to my cave was fifty miles away. The cars stared at me. Some car doors locked. White folks terrified at a black man walking drunk in the streets at 1:30 in the morning. LAWD HAVE MERCY HE’S GONNA KILL US ALL! I tripped on the curb, hit my head on the door. That was okay, it sobered me up a little. Now where are the damn keys! I busted through my door and poured myself onto the unmade bed.

The room stopped spinning. I birthed a loud fart as I turned over. This where I wanted to be, nowhere, lost.

=====

I was free from pain, anxiety.

The world died for a few hours. I stared at the ceiling.

Out of nowhere a ghostly figure appeared. Oh hell! It was her. She travelled all the way from Georgia to attack my evening of public intoxication. She smiled. That famous dream entered my liquor-drenched mind.

Me and Kayla hit it big. I flew to Georgia every other month or so. I was her slave. When I was in L.A. I would ride down to the garment district, buy her nice outfits and send them to her. She sent me a jogging suit. I hated it but didn’t tell her. We were a team, a duo. I liked her clean house, spotless. A bug wouldn’t dare show itself. We’d sit on the couch, cuddling kissing, nothing dramatic. It was a warm summer afternoon. We drank homemade lemonade. There were no cashews floating in the picture. She looked at me with diamonds in her eyes.

“You know, Rain. I saw this ring.”

“You did? What kind of ring, Peaches?” I called her Peaches.

“It’s a beautiful engagement ring. Saw it in a jewelry store a month ago. Couldn’t take my eyes off it.”

“How much does it cost?”

“Twenty-five hundred dollars.”

Time stopped stone cold dead. It sat in my lap. I was a custodian at the United States Postal service. I liked the job. I could walk around the facility learning lines while looking busy. It was a modest salary, enough cash to allow me to look prosperous when I really wasn’t. Rent, flights to Georgia, GASOLINE, liquor—they all cost money. Now I had to figure out how to pay for an engagement ring?

We rode downtown to the jewelry store. Sweat flowed from my socks into the busy street. What the hell—I could never could save a dime anyway. It would make her happy, famous even. I signed my life away. I agreed to pay two-hundred and fifty dollars for eight months. I cried like a baby on the inside. Kayla wore it out the store. She kissed me before I left Georgia. I didn’t need a plane, but I took one anyway. Life was golden, but of course it couldn’t last. I was sitting on a box of rat poison. I was missing a knee.

Me and Kayla talked for hours about our families. I told her things about Daddy that I would never tell anyone else. There were seven of us kids and it was noisy as hell. She repeated the story of how abusive her father was. It didn’t matter if I was sitting on her couch in Georgia or on the phone in L.A. The story was always the same: “He would yell at the top of his lungs. ‘GIRL, YOU AIN’T NOTHIN’ NOW AND YOU AIN’T NEVER GONNA BE NOTHIN!’”

Day after day, rain, year after year. I cried for this woman on the inside. She’d absorbed so much abuse with no one to help her. She had a brother, but he was just a kid. I was blind. I didn’t see her daddy’s wrath coming at me through her.

It started with a phone call.

Three in the morning. I left Francine’s with five very dry vodka martini’s inserted into my skull. I had a dream about the bugs throwing parties while I was in Georgia. I knew this to be true cuz I would find tiny bottles of liquor when I got home; some empty, some half-filled. The three hundred dollar a month phone bill rang. It was screaming.

“Hello?”

“Rain, what are you doing?” It was Kayla. She sounded strange, different. from my previous sojourns with former girlfriends. It appeared she was preparing for battle. But why? I always wore clean underwear when I traveled by plane.

“Rain are you drunk?”

“I certainly hope so, hee hee.”

“I’m serious. Remember what we talked about?”

“Sweetheart, it’s three o’clock in the morning in California.”

“Is there anybody there with you?”

“No, just the bugs.”

“The what?”

I was curious. I wondered if something or somebody had crawled up beside me while I was sleeping. I turned over to look just to make sure. “Nope Peaches, ain’t nobody here but Mr. Rain. The pride of the Rain Family.”

“I want you to stop drinking.”

“UUUH what did you say, honey?”

“I said: I want you to stop drinking.”

“How come?”

“It’s vulgar, that’s how come!”

“You’re damn right baby. It’s vulgar as hell sho’nuff!”

“So you can tell that lady laying next to you she can go home now.”

Now I was baffled. In my well-earned stupor I turned over to determine if there was a guest, invited or otherwise, sleeping with me. The spot was invisible, nobody there.

“Peaches there’s nobody here but me honey.”

“Are you sure Rain?”

“Well, I guess they might have left. I don’t know.”

“Look Rain, I’m comin’ to L.A. next week. I need to find out what you’re doin’.” She hung up like real fast! Damn was that my sweet petunia? The tonal quality was the same, but the character was like Dr. No. I passed out again.

A few minutes later the phone rang again. “Rain are you cheating on me?”

“No dear, do you want me to?”

She hung up. I tried to find a nice quiet dream.

=====

I sat at the bus stop protecting a half pint of Jack Daniels, a plastic cup and a tiny bag of ice.

Damn—life was good. I didn’t think much about my lover’s bad mood. Maybe she was suffering from a multitude of mosquito bites. Who knows? The ladybug landed next to me. He had a slight cold.

The week faded quickly into the past.

I stood at the gate waiting for Kayla to appear. She stepped down the ramp. Neferititi dressed in the blue silk pantsuit I bought her. I smiled, opened my arms for the big hug. She offered a curt peck on the cheek.

“I’ve got luggage.” She briskly walked past like one of those trotting horses.

I followed, happy but puzzled.

=====

I got lucky, found a space right in front of the Castleton.

She looked at the old structure. “Is this it?”

“Is that what, my Georgia Peach?”

“Where you live?”

“Yep this has been my home since I came to L.A.”

“But Rain, it’s so old!”

I was happy she was here. I couldn’t assess the meaning of that statement. I opened the door, she stepped in and froze.

“This is your home?”

“Yep.”

“But it’s only one room!”

“Oh no sweetie; it’s three rooms. See, here’s the kitchen. You’re in the living room and to your left is the bathroom. It’s even got a toilet.”

“But’s it’s so small and unkempt.”

I should’ve known that would be a sticking point. Germs, dust and pollutants of all kinds avoided the woman. Her clean was clean.

“Is that a roach on the wall?”

“Oh hell yeah. That’s Clarence Jr. The Fearless Leader.”

“What’s he doing?

“Staring. Clarence, you broke curfew, Clarence. Remember what happened to your daddy Clarence, Sr.?” Clarence dug into a hole he invented.

“How old is that couch?”

“I have no idea, sweetheart. It greeted me at the door when I got here.”

“How can you live like this, Rain?”

“Live like what, Kayla? Waddaya mean?”

“This place is so small and unkempt. You call me up and sometimes you are extremely inebriated. Why are you wasting your life?”

Oh, here it comes. It always happens where the potential mate lays down the law. “Look Kayla, listen very carefully. My name is Rain Forrest. I was born in the back of a forty-seven Chevy during a terrible rainstorm. My mother was a nurse and my father worked for the Los Angeles Unified School System. They told me I could do or be anything I wanted to be. I chose to be an actor after I got out the service. I’ve been in show business for thirty years. Yes, the place is a dump. But it’s my dump. I work my ass off to keep on the stage. I do stand up and I am one hell of a singer. I LOVE PERFORMING. I get a rush when I’m onstage. It’s one of the few times when I really feel alive! I like doing films too, but’s stage work I prefer. Sometimes it’s twenty-four hours before I get home. Cuz no matter what I do acting wise, I still have to be at the General Mail Facility at 11:30 p.m. sharp.”

“What about your drinking, Rain? Baby, you drink too much.”

“Well, I’ll try to put a handle on it.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah baby, I promise.”

=====

Kayla stayed with me a week. I shot a video with a rap artist. He was really big at the time. We attended the cast party at a theatre in downtown Los Angeles. I don’t know if she was impressed, I wasn’t. The director, a tall white guy, approached me. “Rain you did a good job. Your scene didn’t end up on the cutting room floor.”

Oh but it did and I was pissed. It was a paying gig so I didn’t mind.

The woman kept bugging me about other women. There were no women. How in the world can you be so damn insecure and still brush your teeth? She slept in the wall bed. I felt the urge to push it back into the wall with her in it. That wouldn’t be very Christian. I put her on a plane and watched it until it migrated into a tiny spot.

The harassment continued. She started yelling at me on the phone. “You are a mess! You will never amount to anything! Look at you Rain! You’re dealing with all these degenerate people who call themselves artists. They’re dragging you down.”

“It will be different when we get married.”

“You will have to change.”

“Change to what?” Her father had changed her into him.

I stopped calling her. The abuse, the accusations were something I couldn’t bear. I flew down to Georgia and warned her to stop harassing me. She looked at me, eyes filled with rage. “What kind of man are you, Rain? You’ve never done anything for me!”

“I bought you a ring, Peaches.”

“Rain, why would you buy something for somebody just because they asked you to!”

There it was. That was the clincher. A sweet young lady, twisted by her asshole daddy. I looked across the ocean and saw me living in Georgia among a host of her non-artist friends. Eight months of plastic bliss turned in a raging fire of madness.

Francine’s was jumping. Place was packed. A play had just closed. I was on my third martini. I was alone again. Maybe I should’ve stuck with her. I will always love her, but from a distance. We still talk but we don’t trust each other worth a damn. I guess my sense of freedom gets in the way. Damn, Rain! You always miss that brass ring.

I approached Tony. “It’s one for my baby and one more for the road…”

She kept the ring.

Somebody stole it.

=====

Image: ChatGPT remixed