Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe (17 page)

Mrs. Threadgoode was especially happy today because she had fried chicken and coleslaw on a paper plate, and Evelyn was down the hall at this very minute, getting her a grape drink to go with it.

"Oh thank you, honey. You're spoiling me, bringing me all these treats each week. I told Mrs. Otis, I said that Evelyn couldn't be any sweeter to me if she was my own daughter . . . and I appreciate it so much—I never had a daughter of my own. . . . Does your mother-in-law enjoy good things to eat?"

Evelyn said, "No, not at all. I brought her some chicken, but she didn't want it. She or Ed could care less about food, they just eat to keep alive. Can you imagine?"

Mrs. Threadgoode said she certainly could not imagine such a thing.

Evelyn started her off. "Now, Ruth left Whistle Stop and went off to Valdosta to get married . . .”

"That's right. Oh, and it liked to have killed Idgie. She pitched such a fit."

"I know, you told me about that. But what I want to know is, when did Ruth come back to Whistle Stop?" 

Evelyn settled in her chair, ate her chicken, and listened. "Oh yes, honey, I remember the very day that letter came. It must have been in 'twenty-eight or 'twenty-nine. Or was it 'thirty? Oh w ell. . . . I was in the kitchen with Sipsey when Momma came running back in with it in her hand. She threw open the back door and hollered for Big George, who was out in the garden with Jasper and Artis. She said, 'George, go get Idgie right away and tell her she's got a letter from Miss Ruth!'

"George took off running to get her. About an hour later, Idgie came into the kitchen. Momma, who was shelling peas at the time, just pointed to the letter on the table, without a word. Idgie opened it, but the funny thing was, it wasn't a letter at all.

"It was just a page torn out of the Bible, King James Version. Ruth1:16-20:

And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee,
or
to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people
shall be
my people, and thy God my God.

"Idgie just stood there, reading that quotation over and over and then she handed it to Momma and asked her what she thought it meant.

"Momma read it, put it down on the table, and continued shelling her peas. She said, ’Well, honey, it means just what it says. I think tomorrow you and your brothers and Big George better go over there and get that girl, don't you? You know you're not going to be fit to live with till you do. You know that.'

"And it was true. She wouldn't have been.

"So the next day, they went over to Georgia and got her.

"I admired Ruth for having the courage to walk away like that. It took real courage in those days, not like today, honey. Back then, if you were married, you stayed married. But she was a lot stronger than people knew. Everybody was always treating Ruth like a china doll, but you know, she was a lot stronger than Idgie in many ways."

“Did Ruth ever get a divorce?"

"Oh, I don't know that. That's something I never asked. I just figured that was Ruth's business. I never met her husband, but they say that he was handsome, all except that glass eye. Ruth told me he had come from a nice family, but just had a mean streak where women were concerned. Said on their wedding night, he got drunk and forced her, while the whole time she was begging him to stop."

"How awful."

"Yes, it was. She bled for three days, and after that, she never could relax and enjoy herself. And, of course, that just made him madder. And she said he kicked her down a flight of stairs once."

"Good Lord!"

"Then he started forcing himself on the poor colored girls he had working for him. Ruth said one little girl was only twelve years old. But by the time she found out what kind of a man he was, it was too late. Ruth's mother was sick, and she couldn't leave. She said that on the nights he would come home mean and drunk and force her, she'd lie there and pray to God and think about us to keep herself from going crazy."

Evelyn said, "They say you never know a man until you live with him."

"That's right. Sipsey used to say, 'You never know what kind of fish you've got till you pull it out of the water'—so it's best that Stump never met his daddy. Ruth left before he was born. As a matter of fact, she didn't even know she was pregnant at the time. She'd been over there with Idgie about two months before she noticed that her stomach was just a-pooching out. Went to the doctor and found out she was expecting. He was born over at the big house, and he was the cutest little blond baby, weighed seven pounds and had brown eyes and blond hair.

"Momma said, the first time she saw him, 'Oh look, Idgie, he's got your hair!"

"And he did. He was just as blond as could be. That's when Poppa Threadgoode sat Idgie down and told her that now that she was going to be responsible for Ruth and a baby, she'd better figure out what she wanted to do, and gave her five hundred dollars to start a business with. That's what she bought the cafe with."

Evelyn asked if Frank Bennett had known he had a child.

"I don't know if he did or not."

"He never saw her at all after she left Georgia?"

"Well, I cain't say for a fact if he ever did or not, but one thing's for sure, he came over to Whistle Stop at least once, and it may have been one time too may, as far as he was concerned."

"Why do you say that?"

" 'Cause he was the one that was murdered."

"Murdered!"

"Oh yes, honey. Deader than a doornail."

SEPTEMBER 18, 1928

When Ruth had gone home that summer to marry, Frank Bennett and her mother had been at the station to meet her. Ruth had forgotten how handsome he was and how happy it had made her mother that she had made such an important catch.

Almost immediately, the parties started, and she tried to shut out any thoughts of Whistle Stop. But sometimes, in the middle of a crowd or alone at night, she never knew when it was going to happen, Idgie would suddenly come to mind, and she would want to see her so bad that the pain of longing for her sometimes took her breath away.

Whenever it happened, she would pray to God and beg Him to take such thoughts out of her head. She knew that she must be where she should be and doing the right thing. She would get over missing Idgie. Surely, He would help her. . . surely, this feeling would pass in time . . . with His help, she would make it pass.

She had gone to her wedding bed determined to be a good, loving wife, no matter what, holding nothing back. That's why it had been such a shock when he had taken her with so much violence—almost as if he were punishing her. After he was finished, she lay there in her own blood and he got up and went into the other room to sleep. He never came back to her bed unless he wanted sex; and then, nine times out of ten, it had been because he was too drunk or too lazy to go into town.

Ruth couldn't help but think that something inside of her had caused him to hate her; that somehow, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, Frank felt the love inside she had for Idgie. It had slipped out somehow, in her voice, her touch; she didn't know how, but she believed he must have known and that's why he despised her. So she had lived with that guilt and taken the beatings and the insults because she thought she deserved them.

The doctor came out of her mother's room. "Mrs. Bennett, she's started to talk a little, you might want to go in for a while."

Ruth went in and sat down.

Her mother, who hadn't spoken in a week, opened her eyes and saw her daughter. She whispered, "You get away from

him. . . . Ruth, promise me. He's the devil. I've seen God, and he's the devil. I hear things, Ruth . . . you get away . . . promise me . . .”

It was the first time this shy woman had ever said anything about Frank. Ruth nodded and held her hand. That afternoon, the doctor closed her mother's eyes for good.

Ruth cried for her mother and, an hour later, went upstairs, washed her face, and addressed the envelope to Idgie.

After she sealed it, she went over to the window and looked up at the blue sky. She took a deep breath of fresh air and felt her heart rising like a kite that some child had just released to the heavens.

SEPTEMBER 21, 1928

A car and a truck pulled up in front of the house. Big George and Idgie were in the truck; Cleo and Julian and two of their friends, Wilbur Weems and Billy Limeway, were in the Model T.

Ruth, who had been dressed and waiting since early that morning, hoping they would come today, stepped out the door.

The boys and Big George got out and waited in the yard, and Idgie went up on the front porch. Ruth looked at her and said, "I'm ready." Frank had been taking a nap when he heard them driving up. He came down the stairs and recognized Idgie through the screen.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He threw open the door and was heading for her when he saw the five men standing in the yard.

Idgie, who had not taken her eyes off Ruth, said quietly, "Where's your trunk?"

"Upstairs."

Idgie called to Cleo, "It's upstairs." 

As four men marched by him, Frank spluttered, "What the hell's going on?"

Julian, the last one, said, "I think your wife's leaving you, mister."

Ruth had gotten into the truck with Idgie, and Frank started toward them when he saw Big George, who was leaning against the truck, calmly pull a knife out of his pocket and core the apple he had in his hand with one swift movement, and throw it over his shoulder.

Julian yelled down from the top of the stairs, "I wouldn't get that nigger mad, mister. He's crazy!"

Ruth's trunk was in the back of the truck, and they were headed down the driveway before Frank knew what had happened. But as an afterthought, and for the benefit of Jake Box, his hired hand, who had witnessed the exit, Frank Bennett screamed at the dust the cars had stirred up,  "And don't you come back, you frigid bitch! You whore! You coldhearted whore!"

The next day, he went into town and told everyone that Ruth had gone completely out of her mind with grief after her mother died. He had been forced to have her committed to an insane asylum, outside of Atlanta.

SEPTEMBER 21, 1928

Momma and Poppa Threadgoode were on the front porch waiting. Momma and Sipsey had been fixing up Ruth's room all morning, and now Sipsey was in the kitchen with Ninny, baking biscuits for supper.

"Now, Alice, don't jump at her and scare her off. Just be calm and wait and see. Don't make her think she has to stay. Don't put any pressure on her."

Momma was fidgeting with her handkerchief and pulling at her hair, a sure sign that she was nervous. "I won't, Poppa. I’ll just say how glad we are to see her . . . that's all right, isn't it? Let her know she's welcome? You're going to say how glad you are to see her, aren't you?"

"Of course I will," Poppa said. "But I just don't want you getting your hopes up too much, that's all."

After a minute of silence, he asked, "Alice ... do you think she’ll stay?"

"I pray to the Lord she does."

At that moment, the truck, with Ruth and Idgie, turned the corner.

Poppa said, "They're here! Ninny and Sipsey, they're here!"

 Momma jumped up and flew down the front steps, with poppa right behind her.

When they saw Ruth get out of the car and how thin and weary she looked, they forgot their plan and grabbed her and hugged her, both talking to her at the same time.

"I'm so glad you're home, honey. We're not gonna let you run off from us this time."

"We got your old room ready, and Sipsey and Ninny have been cooking all morning."

As they walked Ruth up the stairs, Momma turned and looked back down at Idgie.

"You better behave yourself this time, young lady! Do you hear me?"

Idgie looked baffled and said to herself as she followed them inside, "What'd I do?"

After supper, Ruth went into the parlor with Momma and Poppa and closed the door. She sat across from them with her hands in her lap, and began, "I don't have any money, I really don't have anything but my clothes. But I can work. I want you both to know that I'll never leave again. I should never have left her four years ago, I know that now. But I'm going to try and make it up to her and never hurt her again. You have my word on that."

Poppa, who was embarrassed at any sort of sentiment, shifted in his chair. "Well, I hope you're aware of what you're in for. Idgie's a handful, you know."

Momma shushed him. "Oh Poppa, Ruth knows that. Don't you, dear? It's just that she has a wild streak. . . Sipsey says it's because I ate wild game when I was carrying Idgie. Remember, Poppa, you and the boys brought home some quail and wild turkeys that year?"

"Mother, you have eaten wild game every year of your life."

"Well, that's true, too. Anyhow, that's beside the point. Poppa and I just want you to know that we think of you as one of the family now, and we couldn't be happier for our little girl to have such a sweet companion as you."

Ruth got up and kissed both of them and went outside, where Idgie was waiting in the backyard, lying in the grass, listening to crickets, and wondering why she felt so drunk when she had not had a drop to drink.

After Ruth left the room, Poppa said, "See, I told you you didn't have anything to worry about."

"Me? You were the one who was worried, Poppa, not me," Momma said, and went back to her needlework.

The next day, Ruth changed her name back to Jamison and Idgie went all over town and told everybody about poor Ruth's husband, how a Brinks armored truck had turned over on him and squashed him to death. At first, Ruth was horrified that Idgie had told such a lie, but later, after the baby was born, she was glad she had.

AUGUST 31, 1940

Yard Man Run Over by Car

Vesta Adcock ran over her colored yard man, Jesse Thiggins, on her way to her Eastern Star meeting on Tuesday. Jesse had been napping under a tree when Vesta made a turn around in her front yard and the wheel rolled over his head and pushed it into the mud. When she heard him holler, she stopped the car on his chest and got out to see who it was. Some neighbors nearby came running over and picked the car up off of him.