WHISTLE STOP,
ALABAMA
AUGUST 31, 1924
The morning after Ruth left for Valdosta, Idgie crept out of Whistle Stop as silently as the wind over the Warrior River. Not a soul knew what she was up to, save for Big George, who had been keeping a close eye on her since the previous afternoon. Still suffering the after effects of her poor ole broken heart, Idgie just wandered aimlessly through the shady streets, not bothering to keep quiet as to mind all the tuckered folks nearby.
Big George followed her as far as Eva’s place before heading back to help Onzell with the twins, and by the time he returned, Idgie was no where in sight. It wasn’t until a month later that he found her again, back at the River Club slurring curses and smoking Grady Kilgore at poker, just as always.
Idgie never much talked about those nights from the time she high-tailed it out of Whistle Stop to the day she finally slipped back into town, and no one really asked around about it, but the truth was that she ran all the way out to Georgia, sticking close to the trails, until she hid out at some hobo camp about 6 miles north of Valdosta.
As mad as she was at Ruth, and though she’d never admit it anytime soon, Idgie still loved her, and couldn’t bare the idea of Ruth not making it home safely. So one particularly warm night, Idgie got it in her head that she would stroll down into town to check on her friend, and once Idgie gets her mind set, it’s just about as hard as prying open a crocodile’s jaws to change it.
Just outside of the city limits, she sat peering down at Valdosta, trying to figure where she would best find Ruth. Then, quietly, one of her new friends from the camp stumbled up and sat down right beside her. His name was Joe Wilkes, a rough, skinny-kneed fella’ from somewhere up north, who always shared his beans with Idgie. For a moment, she was quiet, and he followed suit. Then, he suddenly began to speak.
“’Think I know what that look is, Miz Towanda. You thinkin’ ‘bout your love?”
Idgie snapped her head around to glare at him. “No sir, I was tryin’ to think about which route would be the fastest way to Birmingham. Would you happen to know? I best be getting on home, now.”
Joe smiled. “If you say so. But if you ask me, love is for suckers. Why, a woman would stab you in the back faster than you could blink, cause you nothin’ but grief. Well, or a man I suppose.”
Idgie seemed to consider this. “Joey Boy, you ever love a woman once in your life?”
“Course I have, more than life at one point. There was this gal I met in Virginia when I was a boy, loved that pretty little thing all through high school. I asked her to marry me once, and shoot, she done run off with my good buddy! I wanted to chase after her so bad, but you know, it would only cause her trouble. It was best to just let her go, yes sir, it was best to just let that woman go.”
Idgie thought. That man must have had a way with words, because she never did go down to check on Ruth that day. Instead, she spent most of her days away from Whistle Stop just a’healing at the camp, fishing with Joe and tramping through the woods hunting for food. If she learned a thing from her time there, it was that food was a mighty scarce thing, and she was grateful for Joe’s beans.
Several weeks later, a couple of swollen, gray storm clouds rolled on in, and in a matter of seconds, the soft Georgia mud was being pelted continuously by little silver droplets. The air was thick with the earthy scent of rain, and Idgie and Joe shot through the trees like their backsides were on fire in an effort to get back to the camp. Along the way, they found a convenient crevice in the side of a rock formation to wait out the storm in, and proceeded to do so. As soon as the rain lightened, Idgie hopped up and started heading back, and Joe called, “I’m just gonna stay here a while. I’ll catch up to you later!”
Idgie kept on walking. When she came up to a small clearing, her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t because the rain had stopped, and it wasn’t because she was finally out in the open. In the dead center of the clearing, asleep and under an umbrella, was Ruth Jamison.
She was dressed all in white, and her hair was done up all fancy-like, the usual for Ruth. She must have been occupying herself with a picnic before the terrible weather had hit, as a basket with crumbs and silverware was propped up against her feet.
Idgie wanted to run, but she just couldn’t help herself. Before she knew it, she was crouching just inches away from Ruth, drinking in the very sight of her. All the thoughts she had kept out of mind to ease her aching heart flooded back, and hit Idgie with a painful jolt. Joe had been completely right about love, that it only caused you grief. But when Idgie was near Ruth, she didn’t feel grief at all. She only felt bliss.
Impulsively, Idgie reached out and grasped Ruth’s hand, and sat there in the dew, surrounded by the glistening rain-kissed leaves, happy as anyone could ever hope to be.
Ruth stirred. Idgie jumped up and before you could blink, was already a couple steps away. “Frank? Is that you?” she asked with a concerned expression, still half asleep. “No, it’s your Bee Charmer, Ruth,” she whispered back, and brushed Ruth’s bangs away from her forehead, gently.
She smiled. “You’re my Bee Charmer, Idgie Threadgoode, I’ll always love you,” she murmured, and slipped back asleep. Before either of them could say anything else, Idgie was gone. Ruth must have thought she was still dreaming, but that little piece of Idgie kept her going all through Frank’s beatings. Idgie stayed another night at the camp, then set off for Whistle Stop the next morning. Joe said his goodbyes, and then added at the last minute, “I saw you with your lady, Miz Towanda. I’ll do the best I can to keep an eye out for her, ya hear?”
Idgie grinned. “Thank you, Joey Boy, and call me Idgie.” She left with a lighter heart and a vow that she would never be cruel to a hobo again, at least not one like Joe, and it was that very vow that lead her to becoming friends with Smokey Lonesome.
ALABAMA
AUGUST 31, 1924
The morning after Ruth left for Valdosta, Idgie crept out of Whistle Stop as silently as the wind over the Warrior River. Not a soul knew what she was up to, save for Big George, who had been keeping a close eye on her since the previous afternoon. Still suffering the after effects of her poor ole broken heart, Idgie just wandered aimlessly through the shady streets, not bothering to keep quiet as to mind all the tuckered folks nearby.
Big George followed her as far as Eva’s place before heading back to help Onzell with the twins, and by the time he returned, Idgie was no where in sight. It wasn’t until a month later that he found her again, back at the River Club slurring curses and smoking Grady Kilgore at poker, just as always.
Idgie never much talked about those nights from the time she high-tailed it out of Whistle Stop to the day she finally slipped back into town, and no one really asked around about it, but the truth was that she ran all the way out to Georgia, sticking close to the trails, until she hid out at some hobo camp about 6 miles north of Valdosta.
As mad as she was at Ruth, and though she’d never admit it anytime soon, Idgie still loved her, and couldn’t bare the idea of Ruth not making it home safely. So one particularly warm night, Idgie got it in her head that she would stroll down into town to check on her friend, and once Idgie gets her mind set, it’s just about as hard as prying open a crocodile’s jaws to change it.
Just outside of the city limits, she sat peering down at Valdosta, trying to figure where she would best find Ruth. Then, quietly, one of her new friends from the camp stumbled up and sat down right beside her. His name was Joe Wilkes, a rough, skinny-kneed fella’ from somewhere up north, who always shared his beans with Idgie. For a moment, she was quiet, and he followed suit. Then, he suddenly began to speak.
“’Think I know what that look is, Miz Towanda. You thinkin’ ‘bout your love?”
Idgie snapped her head around to glare at him. “No sir, I was tryin’ to think about which route would be the fastest way to Birmingham. Would you happen to know? I best be getting on home, now.”
Joe smiled. “If you say so. But if you ask me, love is for suckers. Why, a woman would stab you in the back faster than you could blink, cause you nothin’ but grief. Well, or a man I suppose.”
Idgie seemed to consider this. “Joey Boy, you ever love a woman once in your life?”
“Course I have, more than life at one point. There was this gal I met in Virginia when I was a boy, loved that pretty little thing all through high school. I asked her to marry me once, and shoot, she done run off with my good buddy! I wanted to chase after her so bad, but you know, it would only cause her trouble. It was best to just let her go, yes sir, it was best to just let that woman go.”
Idgie thought. That man must have had a way with words, because she never did go down to check on Ruth that day. Instead, she spent most of her days away from Whistle Stop just a’healing at the camp, fishing with Joe and tramping through the woods hunting for food. If she learned a thing from her time there, it was that food was a mighty scarce thing, and she was grateful for Joe’s beans.
Several weeks later, a couple of swollen, gray storm clouds rolled on in, and in a matter of seconds, the soft Georgia mud was being pelted continuously by little silver droplets. The air was thick with the earthy scent of rain, and Idgie and Joe shot through the trees like their backsides were on fire in an effort to get back to the camp. Along the way, they found a convenient crevice in the side of a rock formation to wait out the storm in, and proceeded to do so. As soon as the rain lightened, Idgie hopped up and started heading back, and Joe called, “I’m just gonna stay here a while. I’ll catch up to you later!”
Idgie kept on walking. When she came up to a small clearing, her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t because the rain had stopped, and it wasn’t because she was finally out in the open. In the dead center of the clearing, asleep and under an umbrella, was Ruth Jamison.
She was dressed all in white, and her hair was done up all fancy-like, the usual for Ruth. She must have been occupying herself with a picnic before the terrible weather had hit, as a basket with crumbs and silverware was propped up against her feet.
Idgie wanted to run, but she just couldn’t help herself. Before she knew it, she was crouching just inches away from Ruth, drinking in the very sight of her. All the thoughts she had kept out of mind to ease her aching heart flooded back, and hit Idgie with a painful jolt. Joe had been completely right about love, that it only caused you grief. But when Idgie was near Ruth, she didn’t feel grief at all. She only felt bliss.
Impulsively, Idgie reached out and grasped Ruth’s hand, and sat there in the dew, surrounded by the glistening rain-kissed leaves, happy as anyone could ever hope to be.
Ruth stirred. Idgie jumped up and before you could blink, was already a couple steps away. “Frank? Is that you?” she asked with a concerned expression, still half asleep. “No, it’s your Bee Charmer, Ruth,” she whispered back, and brushed Ruth’s bangs away from her forehead, gently.
She smiled. “You’re my Bee Charmer, Idgie Threadgoode, I’ll always love you,” she murmured, and slipped back asleep. Before either of them could say anything else, Idgie was gone. Ruth must have thought she was still dreaming, but that little piece of Idgie kept her going all through Frank’s beatings. Idgie stayed another night at the camp, then set off for Whistle Stop the next morning. Joe said his goodbyes, and then added at the last minute, “I saw you with your lady, Miz Towanda. I’ll do the best I can to keep an eye out for her, ya hear?”
Idgie grinned. “Thank you, Joey Boy, and call me Idgie.” She left with a lighter heart and a vow that she would never be cruel to a hobo again, at least not one like Joe, and it was that very vow that lead her to becoming friends with Smokey Lonesome.