Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe (16 page)

Ruth's mother, a frail woman, came to the door, smiling. "Yes?"

"Is Ruth home?"

"She's upstairs."

"Would you tell her that a bee charmer from Alabama is here to see her?"

"Who?"

"Just tell her that a friend of hers from Alabama is here."

"Oh, won't you come in?"

"No, that's all right. I'll just wait out here." Ruth's mother went in and called up the stairs, "Ruth, there is some kind of a bee person here to see you.”

"What?"

"You've got company on the porch." When Ruth came down, she was taken completely by surprise. She walked out on the porch and Idgie, who was trying to act casual even though her palms were sweaty and she could feel her ears burning, said, "Look, I don't want to bother you. I know you're probably very happy and all. . . I mean, I'm sure you are, but I just wanted you to know that I don't hate you and I never did. I still want you to come back and I'm not a kid anymore, so I'm not gonna change. I still love you and I always will and I still don't care what anybody thinks—"

Frank called down from the bedroom, "Who is it?"

Idgie started backing down the porch stairs. "I just wanted you to know that—well, I gotta go."

Ruth, who had not said a word, watched her get into the car and drive off.

There had not been a day when Ruth had not thought about her.

Frank came down the stairs and out on the porch. "Who was that?"

Ruth, still watching the car that was now a black dot down the road, said, "Just a friend of mine, someone I used to know," and walked back into the house.

APRIL 6, 1986

Mrs. Threadgoode started talking the minute Evelyn set one foot in the room.

"Well, honey, Vesta Adcock has lost it. She came into our room about four o'clock this afternoon and grabbed up this little milk-glass slipper that Mrs. Otis keeps her hairpins in, and said, ‘The Lord said if the eye offends thee, pluck it out,’ and with that, she slung it out the window, hairpins and all, and then she left.

"It upset Mrs. Otis something awful After a while, that little colored nurse, Geneene, came in with Mrs. Otis's slipper she had gotten out of the yard and told her not to be upset, that Mrs. Adcock had been throwing stuff out of everybody's room all day . . . said Mrs. Adcock was as crazy as a betsy bug and not to pay attention to her.

"I tell you, I'm lucky to have the mind I do have, with all that's going on out here . . . I'm just living from day to day. Just doing the best I can, and that's all I can do."

Evelyn handed her the box of chocolate-covered cherries.

"Oh thank you, honey, aren't you sweet."  She sat there eating for a moment, pondering a question.

'Do you reckon betsy bugs are crazy, or do people just think they are?"

Evelyn said she didn't know.

"Well, I know where the expression cute as a bug comes from, because I happen to think there is nothing cuter than a bug . . . do you?"

"What?"

"Think there's anything cuter than a bug?"

"I cain't say I've looked at too many bugs to know if they're cute or not."

"Well, I have! Albert and I would spend hours and hours looking at them. Cleo had this big magnifying glass on his desk. and we'd find centipedes and grasshoppers and beatles and potato bugs, ants . . . and put them in a jar and look at them. They have the sweetest little faces and the cutest expressions. After we'd looked at them all we wanted to, we'd put them in the yard and let them go on about their business.

"One time, Cleo caught a bumblebee and put it in the jar for us, and he was a precious thing to look at. Idgie loved bees, but my favorite is the lady bug. That's a lucky bug. Every bug has a different personality, you know. Spiders are kind of nervous and grumpy, with teeny heads. And I always liked the praying mantis. He's a very religious bug.

"I could never kill a bug, not after seeing them up close like that. I believe they have thoughts, just like us. Of course, that has its bad side. My snowballs around my house were all dog-eared and eaten up. And all my gardenia bushes are chewed down to the nub. Norris said he wanted to come over there and spray, but I didn't have the heart to let him do it. I'll tell you one thing, a bug wouldn't stand a chance at Rose Terrace. A germ would be hard pressed to survive in this place. Their motto here is: 'It's not enough to look clean, it's got to be clean.' Sometimes I feel like I'm living in one of those cellophane sandwich bags, like the ones they used to sell on the trains.

“As for me I’ll be glad to get home to my nasty old bugs.  Even an ant would be a welcome sight.  I’ll tell you one thing, honey, I'm glad I’m on the going-out end, instead of coming-in . . .’My Father's house has many mansions and I'm ready to go’. . . .

”The only thing I ask is, please, Lord, get rid of all the lineoleum floors before I get there."

OCTOBER 17, 1940

When Vesta Adcock was younger, someone had told her to speak up, and she never forgot it. You could hear Vesta through brick walls. The booming voice from that little woman traveled for blocks.

Cleo Threadgoode made the remark that it was a shame that Earl Adcock had to pay his telephone bills since Vesta could just as well have opened the door and aimed at whoever's house she was calling.

Considering that, and the fact that she had appointed herself president of the "I'm Better Than Anyone Else Club," it was not surprising that Earl did what he did.

Earl Adcock was a quiet, decent man who had always done the right thing—one of the unsung heroes of life who had married the girl just because she had picked him out and he didn't want to hurt her feelings. And so he had just remained quiet while Vesta and his mother-in-law-to-be had arranged everything from the wedding to the honeymoon to where they would live.

After the one child, Earl Jr., had been born, a soft, pudgy, pasty little boy with brown ringlets who screamed for his mother whenever his father got near him, Earl realized he had made a big mistake, but he did the gentlemanly, manly thing: He stayed married and raised this son, who lived in the same house, had the same blood, but was a stranger to him.

 Earl was in charge of over two hundred men down at L N Railroad, where he worked, and commanded great respect and was extremely capable. He had served bravely in the First World War, killing two Germans, but in his own home he had been reduced to just another child of Vesta's, and not even a favorite child: He came in second to Earl Jr.

"WIPE YOUR FEET BEFORE YOU COME IN HERE! DONT SIT IN THAT CHAIR!"

"HOW DARE YOU SMOKE IN MY HOUSE . . . GO OUT ON THE PORCH!"

"YOU CAIN’T BRING THOSE NASTY FISH IN HERE. TAKE THEM OUT IN THE BACKYARD AND CLEAN THEM!"

"EITHER YOU GET RID OF THOSE DOGS OR I'M TAKING THE BABY AND LEAVING!"

"MY GOD, IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE ON YOUR MIND? YOU MEN ARE NOTHING BUT A BUNCH OF ANIMALS!"

She picked out his clothes, she picked out their friends, and flew at him like an enraged wild turkey the few times that he had tried to swat little Earl; eventually, he gave up.

Thus, throughout the years, Earl had worn the correct blue suit, carved the meat, gone to church, been the husband and father, and never said one word against Vesta. But Earl Jr. was grown now, and the L N had retired him with a nice pension that he immediately signed over to Vesta, and had given him a gold Rockford railroad watch. And so, as quietly as he had lived, he slipped out of town, leaving only a note behind:

Well, that's that. I'm off, and if you don't believe I'm leaving Just count the days I'm gone. When you hear the phone not ringing, it'll be me that's not calling. Goodbye, old girl, and good luck.

                                                                                                                                          Yours truly,

Earl Adcock

P.S. I'm not deaf.

Vesta smacked a surprised Earl Jr. in the face and went to bed for a week with a cold rag on her head, while everyone in town secretly cheered Earl on. If good wishes had been ten-dollar bills, he would have left a rich man.

OCTOBER 18, l940

Warning to Wives

It's that time of the year again, and my other half is chomping at the bit to get out with the gang and hunt. He's been cleaning his guns and fooling with his old hounds and doing everything short of baying at the moon. So, get ready to say goodbye to the boys for a while. Nothing that moves is safe. . . Remember last year, when Jack Butts shot a hole in the bottom of the rowboat? Idgie said they all sunk to the bottom of the lake while ten flocks of ducks flew right over their heads.

Congratulations to Stump Threadgoode for winning the first prize at the school Science Fair, with his project, "The Lima Bean . . . What Is It?"

Second prize went to Vernon Hadley, whose project was "Experimenting with Soap."

Idgie has a big jar of dried lima beans on the counter, down at the cafe, and says anyone who guesses how many lima beans are in the jar gets a prize.

The photograph of Mr. Pinto did not turn out as well as expected, and is just a blur.

Ruth said to tell everybody that she has thrown the shrunken head out, because it was making people sick to see it on the counter while they were trying to eat. Ruth said it was nothing but a rubber head that Idgie had bought at the Magic Shop in Birmingham, anyway.

By the way, my other half says that somebody asked us over for supper, but he can't remember who it was. So, whoever asked us, we will be happy to come, just call me and let me know.

. . . Dot Weems . . .

P.S. Opal says again to please stop feeding Boots.

AUGUST 4, 1928

It had been two years since Idgie had seen Ruth, but every once in a while, Idgie went over to Valdosta on Wednesdays, because that was the day that Frank Bennett would come into town and go to the barbershop. She would usually hang around Puckett's Drug Store, because she had a good view of the front door of the barbershop and could see Frank sitting in the barber's chair.

She wished she could hear what he was saying, but it was enough just to see him. He was her only link to Ruth, and as long as she saw him, she knew that Ruth was still there.

This Wednesday, Mrs. Puckett, the thin little old lady in black-framed glasses, was busy as usual, moving around the store, arranging things as if life depended on everything being neat and in its place.

Idgie was sitting at the counter, looking across the street; watching.

"That Frank Bennett sure does talk a lot, doesn't he? A real friendly fella, huh?"

Mrs. Puckett was on the first step of a ladder, arranging jars of Stillman's Freckle Cream, her back to Idgie. "Some might say so, I guess."

Idgie heard a strange tone in her voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I just said, some may think so, that's all." She came down off the stepladder.

"Don't you think so?"

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"Don't you think he's friendly?"

"I didn't say I didn't think he was friendly, did I? I guess he's friendly enough."

Mrs. Puckett was now poking at the boxes of Carter's Liver Pills on the counter. Idgie got off the stool and went over to her.

"What do you mean, friendly enough? Do you know something about him? Has he ever not been friendly?"

"No, he's always pleasant enough," she said, arranging the boxes in a row. "It's just that I don't like any man that'll beat his wife."

Idgie's heart went cold.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said."

"How do you know that?"

Mrs. Puckett was now busy restacking the tins of toothpaste. "Oh, Mr. Puckett's had to go out there and take that poor little thing medicine—more than once, I'll tell you. He's blackened her eye and knocked her down the stairs, and once, he broke her arm. She teaches Sunday School and you never met a nicer person." She moved on to torment the Sal Hepatica bottles. "That's what liquor will do to a man, make them do crazy things they wouldn't ordinarily do. Mr. Puckett and I are Temperance, ourselves . . ."

Idgie was out the door and didn't hear the last sentence.

The barber was brushing off the back of Frank's neck with sweet-smelling talcum powder when Idgie burst into the shop. She was in a rage. She stuck her finger in Frank's face. "LISTEN. YOU MEALY-MOUTHED, MOLE-FACED, GLASS-EYED SON OF A BITCHING BASTARD! IF YOU EVER HIT RUTH AGAIN, I'LL KILL YOU! YOU BASTARD! I SWEAR I'LL CUT YOUR DAMN HEART OUT! YOU HEAR ME, YOU ASSHOLE BASTARD!"

And with that, she took her arm and knocked everything off the marble counter. Dozens of bottles of shampoo, hair tonics, hair oils, shaving lotions, and powders crashed to the floor. Before they knew what had hit them, Idgie was back in her car, screeching out of town.

The barber stood there with his mouth open. It had happened so fast. He looked at Frank in the mirror and said, "That boy must be crazy."

The minute Idgie got home to the Wagon Wheel Fishing Lodge, she told Eva what had happened, and was still in a rage, vowing that she was going back over there and get him.

Eva listened carefully. "You're gonna go over there and get yourself killed, is what you're gonna do. Now, you cain't go interfering with somebody's marriage, that's their business. Honey, there are things between a man and a woman that you don't go fooling with."

Poor Idgie was in agony and asked Eva, "Why does she stay with him? What's the matter with her?"

"That's not any of your business. Now honey, you have to forget all about it. She is a grown woman and she is doing what she wants, as much as you don't like to hear it. You're still a baby, sugar, and if that man is as mean as you say, you could get yourself hurt."

"I don't care what you say, Eva, I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch someday, you wait and see."

Eva poured Idgie another drink. "No you're not. You're not gonna kill anyone and you're not going back over there. You promise?"

Idgie promised. Both of them knew she was lying.

APRIL 27, 1986