Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

MAY 19, 1986

It had been nine long, hard days since Evelyn Couch had been on her diet, and today she woke up with a feeling of euphoria. She seemed in complete control of her life, tall and thin, and when she moved, she felt willowy and graceful. Those nine days had been like climbing a mountain, and now she knew she had reached the top. Somehow, today, she knew in her heart that she would never eat anything as long as she lived unless it was crisp and fresh; just like she was at this very moment.

When she went into the supermarket, she sprinted past the cookies and cakes and white breads and aisle three, canned goods, where she had spent most of her shopping life, and went straight to the meat department, where she ordered chicken breasts without the skin. Then she headed over to the produce section, a place she had only visited on occasions to buy potatoes for mashing, and bought fresh broccoli and lemons and limes to cut up in her Perrier water. She stopped briefly at the magazine section to buy a Town and Country magazine, featuring an article on Palm Beach, and then went to the express checkout counter, where the checkout girl greeted her.

“Hey, Miz Couch, how are you doing today?”

“Just great, Mozell, how are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Is this gonna be all for you today, hon?”

“That’s it.”

Mozell punched up the amount.

“You look awful pretty today, Miz Couch.”

“Well, thank you, I feel good.”

“Well, bye-bye, now. You have a nice day.”

“Thank you. You too.”

As Evelyn was going out, a beady-eyed, mean-mouthed boy in greasy pants and a T-shirt slammed through the EXIT ONLY door and knocked Evelyn back. He brushed past and, Evelyn, still in a good mood, mumbled to herself, “Well, there’s a nice gentleman.”

The boy turned and with a surly look said, “Fuck you, bitch!” and went on.

Evelyn was stunned. The hatred in his eyes took her breath away. She felt herself getting all shaky and started to cry. It was as if someone had hit her. She closed her eyes and told herself not to lose control. He was just a stranger. It didn’t matter. Don’t let it upset you.

But the more she thought about it, she knew she had to make it all right. She would go on outside and wait for him and tell him that she had just been trying to make light of the situation and had not meant to hurt his feelings and that she was sure he had come in the wrong door by mistake and hadn’t realized that he had run into her.

She was sure, as soon as she explained it to him, he would probably feel bad and the whole thing would be over and she could go home feeling better.

The boy burst out of the door carrying his six-pack and walked past her. She walked faster and caught up with him.

“Excuse me. I just wanted you to know that there was no reason for you to be so mad at me in there. I was only trying to …”

He shot a disgusted look at her. “Get the hell away from me, you stupid cow!”

Evelyn was breathless.

“Excuse me. What did you call me?”

He continued on, ignoring her. Now she was running after him, in tears.

“What did you call me? Why are you being so mean to me? What did I ever do to you? You don’t even know me!”

He opened the door to his truck, and Evelyn, hysterical, grabbed his arm.

“Why? Why are you being so mean to me?”

He slammed her arm away from him and stuck his fist in her face, his eyes and face twisted with rage. “Don’t fool with me, bitch, or I’ll knock your fucking head off—you fat, stupid cunt!”

And with that, he pushed her in the chest and knocked her down.

Evelyn couldn’t believe what was happening. Her groceries spilled everywhere.

The stringy-haired girl with the elastic halter top who had been waiting for the boy looked down at Evelyn and laughed. He got in the truck, threw it in reverse, and squealed out of the parking lot, yelling names back at Evelyn.

She sat there on the ground, her elbow bleeding, old and fat and worthless all over again.