Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

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.