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“Come on around the bases. Don’t kiss everybody, run!” Grady Kilgore yelled out.
Idgie laughed from where she had collapsed on the grass. Ruth ran to all the bases, jumping up and down like it was the most exciting moment in her life. Idgie climbed to her feet as Ruth came towards her, fueled by Pabst Blue Ribbon beer as much as she was by hitting her home run in the back of The River Club. Idgie backed up a step, still laughing.
“Whoa there…”
Ruth bumped into her and kissed her on the cheek, eyes positively aglow. Her carefully placed hair was falling out of its bun in a pretty way, Idgie thought, her cheeks and chest covered in a soft sheen of sweat. Around them Grady and the boys clamored and called out for another game but Idgie declined.
“Half of ya’ll is too drunk and none of y’all can out-do Ruth,” Idgie said, feeling high on the moment.
“Get me one more,” Ruth said, tapping her beer.
Idgie grinned and pulled her back inside the club. Eva got another Pabst for Ruth and offered one to Idgie, but Idgie dug into her pocket and pulled out a flask instead.
“I’m feelin’ it tonight,” she announced.
Ruth took a long swig of her beer and toasted Idgie’s flask, eyes shining brightly every time she looked at her.
Idgie took a moment. The summer night was warm, maybe a bit sticky but she liked it. The club was lively but civilized and the jazz music had mellowed out. Cicadas seemed to fill in the background of the song. And Ruth.
Well.
Ruth was laughing again at something Eva had said. Idgie remembered thinking her smile was the prettiest smile of all the older girls she knew when she was little. Now she swore it was even prettier. Ruth herself still didn’t look a day over nineteen, though six years had passed since Idgie’s brother Buddy had died. In fact Idgie found herself intensely drawn to Ruth. Vaguely she recalled their friendship when her brother was alive. She had thought of Ruth as a good older sister. But now…
Idgie watched Ruth at the bar beside her. Lord in heaven. To hell with pretty, Idgie thought. Ruth was beautiful. There was no way she could fool herself into thinking otherwise. Yes, Ruth Jamison was beautiful. And the most kind-hearted soul Idgie had ever met. She pushed away the voices in her head that told her it was wrong, thinking of Ruth in this way. How could it be wrong? It was…
Idgie blinked and realized Ruth was talking to her.
“Hey now, don’t be gettin’ fool-drunk on me just yet,” said Ruth, pushing Idgie’s wrist down as she attempted another drink of whiskey from her flask.
“You know I’m beat,” said Ruth, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “We should probably be getting’ back home.”
“Aw come on, you still look all fired up,” countered Idgie. She thought for a beat, then climbed off the stool.
“Come on, let’s go upstairs.”
“Okay. What’s upstairs?”
Idgie didn’t answer her, pulling Ruth by the arm again. Ruth giggled.
“Idgie, I can walk on my own.”
“Don’t be so sure. Not the way you’re slammin’ back that Blue Ribbon.”
They walked up the wooden staircase and around the corner to the hallway of rooms. Idgie found an open one and went inside, Ruth hot on her heels.
“Welcome to the fanciest suite rooms in all of Alabama,” Idgie announced. She swept her arms out in a grand gesture. Ruth laughed, still giddy. The room was just a simple affair, with a small bed and table and a rocking chair. The window was covered with old yellowed but clean curtains.
“Well I don’t know if I can afford it,” Ruth declared, sitting down on the bed and drinking her beer.
“Well ma’am I’d be glad to offer it to you at a discount,” said Idgie, taking the mannish tone of a clerk or salesman. She crossed her arms and stood in front of Ruth.
Ruth snorted a little but tried to keep a straight face. Even now, Idgie thought, she was beautiful.
“A discount for what?” Ruth asked.
“Well that’s easy. You got the prettiest dress and shoes in this establishment. And the prettiest hair.”
“Oh,” said Ruth. “Well maybe I’m not a lady who likes that kind of talk from a stranger. ‘Sides, I’m not very lady-like at the moment,” she added, batting her eyelashes and giving her most charming smile while holding onto her beer.
Idgie snorted and collapsed on the bed. Ruth laughed and followed beside her. They quieted down. Idgie propped herself up on an elbow, facing Ruth.
“No kidding though,” she said in a subdued voice. “You are the prettiest.”
Without thinking she reached out and pushed a wavy lock of Ruth’s hair behind her ear, tucking back gently. Ruth caught her by the wrist and twined their fingers together.
“Buddy used to do that,” she said. Her face seemed to sober.
Idgie inwardly squirmed. Damn.
“Ah, sorry,” she started, unsure. “I didn’t mean to—”
Idgie pulled away.
“No, it’s all right,” said Ruth. “Idgie…I don’t want your brother to keep comin’ up in the wrong way. I don’t mind talking about him and you shouldn’t either, understand?”
Idgie stilled. She felt off balance. Idgie didn’t speak about Buddy to anyone but Ruth. Even then, when Buddy’s name had come up Idgie had always felt an immediate and inevitable tension in the air. They had both loved him dearly. Idgie sat up and looked down.
“I’m sorry I’ve been selfish,” she heard herself say. She must’ve drank more whiskey than she thought. “I know you miss him too.”
She wanted to say more and say it right, that Ruth didn’t love him any less, that her feelings were just as important, that maybe if she hadn’t been acting like such a brat her family would have been able to mourn his passing in peace…
Idgie squeezed her eyes closed, determined not to let the tears show. Guilt pulled down on her like gravity.
“Hey,” Ruth said, voice like silk pedals.
A pair of hands rubbed themselves over Idgie’s arms before wrapping themselves around her. Ruth’s breath was on her neck. Idgie kept her eyes closed, feeling the tickle of Ruth’s hair, breathing in her scent.
“It’s all right. Nothin’s your fault, you hear?”
Idgie nodded but didn’t trust herself to speak. Ruth kept close, feather-kissing her neck comfortingly. Idgie sighed. She opened her eyes and turned her head. Her lips pressed into Ruth’s; those beautiful and full lips, coated in a soft rouge. Hot chills shot through Idgie. Something deep in the pit of her stomach fluttered uncontrollably.
When she pulled back Ruth didn’t look shocked. Her doe eyes were searching all over Idgie’s face, which made Idgie’s heart start to race.
Ruth kissed her back.
Idgie couldn’t help her breath catching in her throat. It took her another moment to process what was happening, but it was happening. Ruth’s lips parted. Idgie felt a soft palm come up to her jawline, her cheek. Her mouth opened and Ruth’s tongue slipped in gently, as if seeking permission. Idgie scooted closer to her on the bed as Ruth’s kiss became more demanding. The flutter in Idgie’s stomach grew until it was in her groin. Ignoring the magnetic pull her body felt, she broke away from Ruth abruptly.
“Wait, wait a minute.”
Their eyes met. Ruth shook her head.
“No. No more waiting. Idgie, I…”
She trailed off, brows knitting together and eyes cast downward, as though the right words might be in the bed sheets.
The right words eluded Idgie too. So she picked up Ruth’s hand and kissed her palm, then her wrist. She had imagined doing this, imagined the way the most delicate parts of Ruth might feel against her lips. It was just as she’d imagined. Silently she was screaming, Tell me it’s ok. Tell me this is what you want.
Ruth nudged her chin up and traced her thumb over Idgie’s lips. Her brown eyes were dancing, rouge lips parted. But it was the way Ruth was looking at her now that caused the clarity of the situation to hit Idgie like a ton of bricks. This was no friendly or sisterly gesture, not mere comfort over Buddy, not the beer. Their lips crashed together this time and suddenly Idgie was drowning. Ruth kissed and kissed her, tongue hungry. Idgie moved to take Ruth’s face between her hands. Ruth made a humming sound deep in her throat.
She felt light-headed. Desire crashed over her, wave after wave. She wanted to cry.
They broke apart for air. Idgie felt every part of her tingling uncontrollably. But something stopped her.
She bounced off the bed.
“Hey, let’s go swimmin’!” she announced, taking Ruth by the hand. “Just for a little bit. I can teach you to play poker.”
A flicker of confusion passed over Ruth’s face but it was gone before Idgie was certain she’d seen it. Ruth smiled mischievously.
“Well all right, if you insist.”
“I do.”
They went out the back of the club, passing by the boy’s game of baseball mostly unnoticed and towards the river. Idgie stripped off her outer clothes as soon as they reached the bank. Ruth was mumbling something about how muddy it was and what if there were Water Moccasins but she was giggling again as she stripped off her dress.
A short time later they sat on the bank, soaked, cards in hand. Ruth triumphantly showed Idgie her hand, then wondered out loud what Mama Threadgoode would do if she saw them both drunk. Idgie poked fun at her. The cool water and the game had made her clear-headed again and seemed to have given back to her the feeling she’d had when they were playing baseball. Then Ruth had said she was getting married.
“You’re gettin’ married?” Idgie echoed, certain she’d heard wrong.
Ruth nodded, looking out at the water.
“As soon as the summer’s over. Oh, am I gonna miss you. This is the best birthday I ever had.”
Idgie felt wet lips against her cheek before Ruth darted into the river again. Something cold and numb crept into her. She swam out into the river and let the water cover her tears.
*
Four years later
Idgie pushed open the squeaking screen door with a foot, juggling three boxes of nothing but hats in her arms.
“Mama,” she yelled out, “We’re home.”
Ruth stepped inside and made way for Big George and Julian behind her as they carried a large trunk filled with Ruth’s belongings. Mama Threadgoode came rushing towards the threshold, arms already open. Idgie’s father came up behind and welcomed Ruth in.
“Don’t be shy about askin’ for anything, Miss Jamison,” Papa Threadgoode told her. Mama smacked him lightly.
“Oh now, don’t be so formal. Her name is Ruth, hon.”
Idgie watched as Ruth took it all in good humor. But as Big George and Julian began lugging her trunk up the stairs Idgie had a tremor of panic.
“We can put you downstairs if you’d like. Mama why on earth would you give her the upstairs bedroom for?”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Good Lord Idgie, you pestered me to no end about the upstairs…”
“It’s fine,” Ruth spoke up.
Idgie dragged her eyes to look at her. Ruth gave a small smile. It wasn’t the smile Idgie remembered but more like a glass smile that might shatter.
“It’s fine,” Ruth repeated, looking at both of them before fixing her gaze on Idgie. “I’m fine, Idgie.”
Not half a day ago Idgie had watched as Frank Bennett kicked his wife down the stairs, sending her crashing into the floor. Hot fury that was still fresh flared up in her at the memory. But Ruth’s gaze was speaking only to her now. It was fine. Fine.
Idgie nodded. She shifted the boxes in her arms and started up the stairs.
She lingered inside the doorway to her sister’s old bedroom, watching as Ruth began unpacking. She picked up the boxes of hats and went to the closet.
“There’s all kinds of space up here for these,” she said and set the boxes on a board at the top of the closet. “And if you need more hangers I’ve got some.”
“All right.”
Ruth tucked a lock of soft brown hair behind her ear as she laid out clothes on the bed. She didn’t look up at Idgie, who stood awkwardly against the wall, watching her.
“And later on, when the baby gets close…you can move downstairs, if you’d like. Are you…are you gonna keep it for sure?”
Ruth did look up at her now and gave another small smile. Her eyes were warm but unfamiliar to Idgie.
“Yea. I figure it’s not the baby’s fault who its daddy is.”
Idgie nodded. She kept her hands tight behind her back against the wall, shifting on her feet.
“Does he know?”she asked, “That you’re pregnant?”
Ruth picked up some dresses and moved to the closet beside her. She stilled.
“He knows.”
Idgie’s chest tightened. She clenched her teeth down and forced out a mirthless laugh.
“And he still hit you, pushed you down the damn stairs like some kind of rabid dog…”
“Idgie.”
Again it felt like she had to drag her eyes to the other woman. The abrupt silence after her words made Idgie hear how angry she was. Ruth’s face was pained; pulled tight. Idgie pushed off the wall. The tightness in her chest was still there.
“Right. Well lemme know if you need help with anything.”
She walked past Ruth and out the door.
*
That night Idgie tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before giving up and staring up at the ceiling. The house was quiet, with only the sound of crickets and the one-time call of an owl. But she didn’t feel quiet, not at all.
She imagined what she might do to Frank Bennett if she ever saw him again. Punch him in the face, kick him down some stairs, and worse. Hot tears welled up and she wiped angrily at them. She had Ruth back, didn’t she? She was right across the hall. Idgie hoped she was sleeping soundly. Peacefully. Ruth deserved all the peace in the world. Yet it made her chest grow tight when she thought of Ruth now. Nothing was like it used to be. She closed her eyes and remembered those nights five, six years ago. They were like two peas in a pod, mama had said once. How happy her mother had been then, to see her daughter so happy. And Idgie had been so happy. The happiest time of her whole damn life.
Idgie sighed and rolled over. Those days were gone. She would have to make do with the days ahead, even if Ruth could never be hers again.
*
The next few days were spent more or less the same. Ruth got settled in more. She helped mama downstairs in the kitchen a lot. Ruth had always been one to lend a helping hand. Idgie sometimes sat and listened to the two of them idly chatting about this and that. Mama caught her up on the latest goings on in Whistle Stop. Idgie took to reading from the Weems Weekly from the kitchen table while the two of them bustled around.
“Listen to this,” she said with a snort. “’Religious Sewing Machines a Fraud.’ Some man was tryin’ to sell sewing machines that were supposed to heal you as you sewed. Said they were from France when they were from Chattanooga. Ol’ Biddie Louise Otis was shocked when she found out. Ha!”
“Oh Lord,” mama said, rolling her eyes. “That woman is most gullible soul I’ve ever met, bless her heart.”
“Wonder what the good reverend Scroggins thinks about it,” Idgie drawled out with a grin. Her mama shot her a look.
“Don’t you start,” she warned.
“Well,” said Ruth, taking up a rag and wiping the counter, “Sewing is relaxin’ for some people. Takes their mind off things. But I’m not sure I can picture it healin’ anyone. All that supposed healin’ and then you prick your finger. What’s that supposed to mean?”
Idige hid a smug smile.
“It means you cain’t sew for sh—”
She cut off when mama glared at her over the rims over glasses. Idgie smiled sweetly. Her eyes caught Ruth’s and saw that, for a split second, Ruth looked like her old self, eyes sparkling at her as she shook her head with affection.
*
They drove into town one day for a lemonade stand some of the kids had set up in front of McCollum’s Grocery Store.
“There it is,” said Idgie.
“Well how adorable,” gushed Ruth.
They watched for a minute as a cluster of children surrounded the little wooden booth, which was complete with a blue-painted sign that read ‘Lemonade 5₵.’
“I’m buyin’,” said Idgie proudly as they strolled up to the stand. Ruth snorted.
“Well what if I want more later? Maybe three glasses worth.”
“Well madame, I can afford it. I just won me a poker game last night.”
They bought a cup of lemonade each.
“I cain’t believe you’re still down there at that club, gamblin’,” said Ruth as they leaned against the car and drank their lemonade. Idgie threw her a look as if to say ‘really?’
“Well all right, I can completely believe that,” Ruth corrected herself. “But I dunno why. You ought to be findin’ yourself a real job, or helpin’ out your folks with the gardenin’ and the house. You ought to be—”
Idgie snatched the paper cup from her.
“Hey now!”
“If you say one more thing about what I ought to be doin’, especially if it’s about getting married, I might be disinclined to buy you more lemonade.”
Ruth put her hands on her hips and tried her best to look politely indignant.
“Fine. I’ll stop.”
Idgie handed her the cup back.
“Say,” she said after a beat. “I got my fishin’ gear in the car. Why don’t we head on down to a good spot at the river. I can finally show you how to fish.”
After some minor objections Ruth consented and they went to the river. It was only a few minutes’ drive but in the car they had fallen silent again, just like on the way into town. Idgie felt the tension between them, like an invisible rubber band pulled tight. She wasn’t sure exactly what there was to feel tense about, yet it was there, hovering in the air between them.
The tension eased a little when Idgie began setting them up to fish. Ruth’s face puckered up in digust when Idgie opened a can of worms.
“Are they dead?”
“’Course they’re not dead. They gotta be wrigglin’ for the fish to want ‘em.”
Ruth peered down into the can. Idgie huffed out a sigh.
“You ain’t never gonna touch them, are you?”
Ruth blinked.
“Don’t you say never to me.”
She reached inside the can and plucked out a particularly fat, wiggling worm. For the first time Idgie felt a spark of hope light up inside her.
*
They fell into a kind of pattern after that. Some days Ruth would help out around the house—the hottest days—and others she would take little trips with Idgie. Sometimes into town to fool around, sometimes to the river to fish, sometimes to The River Club.
Ruth ended up being a decent fisher but caught mostly bluegill or small trout. She left the bass and catfish to Idgie, who would whoop and holler when a big fighting fish was on the hook.
Idgie loved when a fighter was on her line. She would have to almost dance on the banks to reel it in, letting the line go and then pulling it in over and over. She would glance over to Ruth every now and then. Ruth, who was always caught between laughing at her and cheering her on. It was one of the only times Idgie saw her let down whatever shield Ruth always carried. And Ruth was Ruth again.
It was the quiet moments between them that filled Idgie with dread, like the car rides or slow days around the house.
Once Idgie had been setting out on the porch swing in a rare moment of stillness. It was early evening and the sun had finally disappeared below the trees, taking the mugginess of the day with it. The screen door had squeaked open and Ruth came out on the porch. She seemed to startle when she saw Idgie.
“Oh. I didn’t know you was out here.”
Idgie stiffened.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Just enjoin’ the sunset.”
“You, uh, mind if I sit?”
“’Course not,” she said, though Idgie felt her nerves bundle up as she scooted over on the swing.
Ruth sat next to her. She took the lavender scarf off her head and wiped her forehead with it. She smelled like cooking and summer and something that had always been just Ruth. Idgie took a sip of her beer. She hadn’t drank it fast enough and now it was warm.
“You think I’m startin’ to show?” Ruth asked. She rubbed her palm over her belly. Idgie considered.
“Naw. I mean, maybe just a tiny bit.”
“I been thinking about names,” said Ruth. “I think Maddie if it’s a girl, like we talked about.”
“Ha! I knew it,” said Idgie. “Julian owes me five dollars.”
“But if it’s a boy, well…”
Ruth shifted in the swing. Her eyes flitted timidly to Idgie’s.
“If it’s a boy, I wanted to see if the name was okay with you first.”
Idgie shrugged and took another sip of her beer. It stuck in her throat and she didn’t want it anymore.
“Well you can name it anything you like. Don’t need my permission,” she said.
Ruth’s hands fidgeted in her lap.
“This time I might,” she replied evenly. “I was thinkin’ about naming him Buddy, after your brother.”
Idgie blinked and gave a little laugh.
“I completely understand if it makes you uncomfortable,” Ruth continued hastily, “and I can pick another name of course, if you’d like.”
Idgie stared off into the yard. A few fireflies had started lighting up, like tiny yellow beacons to summon the night.
“It’s fine,” said Idgie. “It’s more than fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Ruth’s voice was still terse. She must have been thinking about this for some time, Idgie realized. And she cared what Idgie thought about it. And why shouldn’t Buddy be the name for her baby? They had buried the hatchet of Buddy’s death between them already, hadn’t they? That night that seemed so long ago now…
Idgie forced herself to look at Ruth. She wanted to reach out, tuck that wayward strand of gorgeous, wavy hair behind her ear, to touch her arm. She didn’t.
“I’m sure,” she said softly instead.
Ruth smiled and looked down at her belly. She reached across and laid her hand over Idgie’s, soft eyes staring into hers in the dying light. Idgie saw the unspoken ‘thank you’ in her gaze, along with something else. But then it was gone and Ruth pulled away and stood, leaving her on the swing.
Idgie stared down at her hand and finished her beer.
*
She still tossed and turned at night.
Even on days when she’d worn herself out and felt tired Idgie couldn’t find sleep until well after midnight. She’d gotten into the habit of picturing Ruth in her room that was just a few feet away. She knew Ruth still liked to read in bed sometimes so she would picture Ruth reading, lying there in her night gown or maybe in just a slip. Her hair would be loose and long and full, hanging down past her shoulders, all waves and curls.
She could still picture the faint spattering of freckles on the bridge of Ruth’s nose and her cheeks. Freckles most people wouldn’t notice at first, not unless you got real close.
And some nights Idgie would be thinking about those freckles and other things and her hand would snake its way down her front and below her shorts. And as soon her fingers touched herself she’d imagine all of Ruth and touching her, holding her, kissing her. She’d remember what it had felt like that night when they had kissed on the bed at The River Club, of how Ruth’s lips had felt against her own and how Ruth had started to touch her, hot and wanting, over the cotton that separated them. She imagined what might have happened that night if she hadn’t pulled away. She would come quietly but hard, wishing it was Ruth hovering over her and making her come.
Some nights it helped, some it didn’t.
*
Ruth started teaching Sunday School to all the kids. Everyone at the church loved her and she had always been good with children, so when Ruth told Idgie that people were clamoring for her to teach, Idgie readily agreed.
Ruth would teach in a room in the back of the church. There was a little window and beyond it was a graveyard. Idgie fell into the habit of sneaking through the graveyard when Ruth was holding class and go up to the window just to watch her. She could make out some of what Ruth was saying through the glass. Ruth always wore her Sunday best, Bible in hand. Idgie marveled at her.
She liked coming to the window at different times during Ruth’s class and waiting for the moment when Ruth would pause and look up and see her. Ruth was always professional-like and would just flash a smile and give a little nod, never breaking her pace with the class. But Idgie would wait patiently and inevitably Ruth would have to look up again. Always she had that smile on her face, seemed to wear it for the rest of the hour. Sometimes when the class was almost over and the children started to get fidgety, Idgie would start making faces against the glass. Soon the whole class knew she was there and they’d giggle and laugh. Ruth would flash her a disapproving glare and motion for her to leave, but Idgie never did because Ruth was still smiling at her underneath it all.
One day as Idgie was watching her teach she noticed an unfamiliar necklace on Ruth. Squinting, she saw it was made of small pearls that ended in a tear-drop pearl over her chest. But she’d forgotten she had promised that morning to help Papa Threadgoode re-paint the porch and the swing at the house so she had left. She didn’t see Ruth until that afternoon.
“Well look at you,” Ruth mused as she followed Idgie inside the house. Idgie was wearing her work overalls, blue bandana around her head and splotches of white paint all over her. Idgie graciously accepted a glass of water from Sipsey and wiped at her brow. Ruth wrinkled her nose.
“You gonna be smellin’ like paint for a week.”
“It’ll take a week to finish the thing if papa don’t pick up the pace,” she said as Papa Threadgoode strode in past her. He muttered something and put his hand over her head affectionately, giving it a shake.
They both went upstairs, Ruth to change into some slacks and blouse and Idgie to clean up.
After Idgie had scrubbed as much of the paint off as she felt inclined to and had changed she greeted Ruth in the doorway to her bedroom. Things between them were a little easier now, though Idgie’s chest still tightened ever so slightly.
“So what did the Lord have to say today?” she asked with a smirk.
Ruth made a ‘pfft’ noise at her.
“The Book of Job,” she replied. Then, a little teasingly she added, “You remember that one, about God testing Job and why people are made to suffer?”
Idgie rolled her eyes.
“Yes, I remember. I do remember church, Ruth. And the lessons.”
Ruth met her gaze for a moment, lips tugging upward.
“Well, you did teach me that doing is more important than talking,” she conceded after a beat.
Idgie grinned.
“Towanda and the night train.”
“Towanda and the night train,” Ruth echoed.
They were quiet for a moment until Ruth looked up at her again and gave a little nod.
“You know I haven’t seen you without that necklace since the day you showed up on my doorstep in Valdosta. Why you always wearin’ it?”
Idgie had been fingering the gold chain around her neck absently. She shrugged and sat down on the bed, then fell back on the mattress. She was starting to feel tired after a long morning of painting and saw a nap in her future. She closed her eyes.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Honestly, I just fancied it one day and never really got over it. Nothing special or anything.”
Idgie opened her eyes and sat up on her elbows. Her gaze fell to the pearl necklace at Ruth’s throat.
“What about that? Looks awful expensive. Is the reverend payin’ you extra or something?”
She expected Ruth to give her that little smile-frown she was so good at. Instead Ruth let out a sigh, flicker of irritation across her features. She stood up briskly from the bed.
“Nope. Nothin’ special about it neither.”
*
Idgie tossed and turned that night as usual. She realized her mistake with the necklace too late. But had Ruth really bought it just for her? Surely it must have cost more than Ruth could spare? She was doubtful about it. The longer she was doubtful the dumber she felt for doubting herself. Why else would Ruth have acted so cold about it? Maybe she had worn it for her. But why, so out of the blue?
Idgie sat up at last and tore off the covers, flustered. She looked towards the door.
She left her room and carefully stepped across the hall to Ruth’s door. She pressed her ear to it. Quiet. It must have been close to midnight. Of course everyone would be asleep. As many times as she had pressed her ear to Ruth’s door she had never heard the slightest stirring except once. And that had been Ruth praying, she was sure, though she couldn’t make out any words.
Idgie was always relieved when all was quiet. It meant that Ruth was asleep, or least not in distress, though why she would be in distress Idgie didn’t have the faintest idea. Stupid. Except…
There were sounds coming from the other side of the door now. Idgie strained, thinking she was imagining it. But no. The faint, muffled sounds of weeping. Then a definite sniffle and quiet sobbing. Idgie’s throat tightened along with her grip on the doorknob. She lifted her other hand and knocked softly on the door. The sobbing quieted. Idgie turned the knob and barely cracked the door, whispering, “It’s me.”
She opened the door further. Ruth was sitting up in bed, wiping at her cheeks. A single candle was lit on the table beside her. Idgie stepped inside and shut the door.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
She came to a halt by the bedpost, afraid to go any further but desperate to.
Ruth sucked in a breath and smoothed her long hair out.
“Nothin.’ I’m all right,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I just…had a bad dream, is all.”
Idgie said nothing at first but gave a nod. She couldn’t take her eyes off Ruth.
“Oh. Well,” she said at last. “Wanna talk about it?”
Ruth shook her head, not meeting her gaze. Idgie reluctantly let go of the bedpost and took a step away.
“All right then. I’ll go back to bed…”
“Wait.”
Idgie froze immediately and turned back to her.
“Yea?”
“How on earth did you hear me?” asked Ruth. Then, jumping ahead, “What were you doin’ up and about?”
“I, uh, had to use the bathroom.”
Ruth kept looking at her, her embarrassment fading quickly as she seemed to be studying Idgie. Idgie felt torn. She didn’t know what to do.
“You can stay a minute,” Ruth said softly. She patted the empty stretch of bed next to her. Heart suddenly pounding, Idgie complied, bare feet moving across the cold floorboards. She was acutely aware she was wearing only a thin cotton shirt and her white under drawers. Ruth was wearing a thin white slip, her shoulders bare. Idgie sat on the bed next to her, folding her legs.
They didn’t say anything for a long minute, but here in the dim candle light Idgie somehow felt more comfortable. She simply gazed at Ruth. Ruth seemed to be collecting herself. She closed her eyes for a moment and opened them, taking a drink of water from the glass at her bedside.
“I lied,” Ruth said with a thin smile. “I didn’t have a bad dream. Least not tonight.”
Idgie waited. She felt calm but her heart was pounding like a running jackrabbit just the same. She curled her legs up to her chest.
Ruth reached over and took her hand.
“Why do you that?”
“Do what?”
“Look at me like that but then act so…so closed off?”
Her voice was soft but Idgie heard a touch of recrimination there. She loosened her legs and let them stretch out over the bed.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“I’ve missed you,” said Ruth.
In the dying candle light Idgie looked at her, long hair framing her face. A face that was looking at her the way it had that night at The River Club. Idgie threaded her fingers into Ruth’s.
“I’ve missed you too.”
“Your mama told me the other day that you drove all night to Georgia on my wedding day.”
Idgie laughed silently and looked at the ceiling.
“Of course she did.”
“I was askin’ about you,” Ruth confessed. “I wanted to know how you were after I left. She said you just went back to your old ways again. Bein’ alone and troublesome.”
Idgie swallowed roughly.
“I was so damn mad at you,” she started. “And jealous. All this time thinking about what you and Frank might be doing, never realizin’ the things he was doing to you. Then I got furious at him. Even now, Ruth, I try not to be, I try to be…better for you, but it’s hard.”
She choked back the tears that threatened her eyes. Ruth was holding her hand tightly. Idgie focused on that, on how soft and warm Ruth’s hand felt in hers. How whole it felt.
“You got every right to be furious,” said Ruth. She looked away for a minute, thinking. “I knew you were mad. You always stay away from people when you’re feelin’ something strong. It’s all right. But it’s over. I’m here now. And I know you wasn’t keen on me keeping the baby at first. And that’s okay too.”
“I just don’t know what to do,” Idgie finally managed. “Or what not to do,” she added, looking at the older woman. Ruth’s gaze never wavered.
“There isn’t anything you cain’t do,” Ruth said. “I’m not glass, Idgie. I won’t break.”
Idgie let out a laugh. “No, you’re the strongest damn person I know.”
Ruth tugged on Idgie’s hand and slid down the bed.
“Come here.”
Feeling utterly helpless and not minding a bit, Idgie drew close to her. Ruth rolled over and pulled Idgie’s arm over her. Idgie moved in close. Her nose was against Ruth’s neck. She kissed it, breathing in the scent of her hair. Ruth shuddered and pressed her back even closer to Idgie’s front.
Idgie watched as the shadows cast by the candle grew more and more dim as it burned itself out. She was crying, but they weren’t sad tears. She kept them to herself, staying quiet. She thought she heard Ruth sniff again but wasn’t sure.
She slept soundly that night, as soundly as she’d ever slept.
*
For every night thereafter Idgie went to her room and only pretended to go to bed. She would wait an hour or so in case mama came in to tell her something. Then, as soon as all the lights were out she would go straight to Ruth’s room.
They were like girls again, snickering and giggling and cuddling up to one another. Sometimes Ruth would tell her about her Sunday classes and how she hoped to starting teaching the older children soon. She would talk about each child and Idgie loved watching how her face would start to glow.
“You’re gonna be the best mother ever,” Idige would say, kissing her lips or her cheek and making Ruth blush ever so slightly.
They spoke more and more about Ruth’s pregnancy. It felt strange at first when Idgie would put her hand on Ruth’s naked belly as she began to show more, but soon Idgie made a habit of it, sometimes even talking to her belly. She would tell it all the old tales her brother used to tell them both—the catfish story, the ducks and the lake and many more. Ruth would grin and try not to laugh but the sight of Idgie talking to her stomach was too funny most nights. Idige would act offended.
“Excuse me, but I am tryin’ to impart valuable information here,” Idgie would say, straight-faced but with that glimmer in her eye.
In the weeks that followed Idgie found herself happy again, but it was a cautious kind of happy. She and Ruth were good, but still not quite where Idgie had hoped they could be. And, during the few times Idgie slept in her own bed, she couldn’t keep the same thought from harassing her. It taunted her to no end if she let it. Ruth was single again. She was with child but still young and pretty. And she knew the men eyed her from time to time. There was no one she knew of who had ever approached her, but Idgie worried. Ruth deserved to have a comfortable life, even if that meant having a husband with a decent job, especially now with the baby. Yet Idgie was selfish. The thought of Ruth with a man, any man, made her see pure red. The thought of life without Ruth made her so sad she would cry.
Oh, it was misery to have to think about it.
She tried to spend every single night with Ruth. And to her great and everlasting relief, Ruth’s face lit up every time she opened the bedroom door.
*
It was the first week of September and Mama Threadgoode was ready for fresh tomatoes. The garden had done well this year. Even a few of mama’s visiting friends had all remarked on how good the tomatoes were looking. She politely ordered her youngest daughter to start picking them from their vines. Idgie, of course, politely ordered Ruth to help her. Soon they had two baskets full of juicy red tomatoes.
Ruth peered into Idgie’s basket.
“Idgie.”
Idgie was bending over, fussing over a particularly thick vine of tomatoes.
“What?”
“Come over here.”
Idgie finally wrangled a tomato from the vine and dropped it into her basket. Ruth had dug into her pile and pointed to some particular tomatoes.
“You cain’t use these. They’re green on the tops.”
Idgie shrugged. “So? You can lob off the green part.”
Ruth shook her head.
“No. The rest of it won’t be any good.”
“No, that ain’t true.”
“Yes it is.”
Idgie huffed and took the tomato in question from her. She pulled out a monstrous hunting knife from her belt and sliced into the tomato, taking off the green top. Then she sliced off a piece of the red part.
“Here.”
Ruth looked from the tomato to Idgie.
“I’m not eating that.”
“For cryin’ out loud. It’s fine.”
Idgie held it up to Ruth’s mouth and Ruth backed away, holding Idgie’s wrist.
“Cut it out now!”
Ruth let out a shriek as she tripped over a mound of tossed soil and ended up on her bottom. Just as Idgie started snickering Ruth pulled her wrist and Idgie followed her down in an effort not to trip over the tomato basket.
They laughed at their own foolishness. Then, without thinking, Idgie dropped the tomato and kissed her. She pulled away and licked her lips, feeling quite rambunctious. Ruth’s gaze changed and, unexpectedly, she grabbed Idgie by the shirt collar and crashed their lips together again.
Idgie moaned in her throat. As soon as Ruth pushed her tongue inside her mouth Idgie felt it all the way to her groin. Ruth seemed to surge up against her without hardly touching her, except for her mouth. Soft lips wondered from Idgie’s lips to her throat and just under her ear. Ruth’s kisses were sometimes hard and sometimes so light it almost tickled. Idgie’s hands wound their way up Ruth’s neck and into her hair, thumbs framing her face. Ruth’s mouth dipped low, down Idgie’s chest and between her breasts, before coming back up again. When Ruth broke away Idgie felt as though she were in a trance. Her heart was pounding and her vision cloudy. Ruth didn’t help any. Her cheeks were rosy. So was her chest. Her eyes were lidded. She plucked another green-topped tomato from the basket.
“It’s no good, trust me,” she said, biting down on a smile.
Then Idige heard mama calling to them to take a break. Her trance broke and Ruth took up her basket and started for the house. Idgie sat there another minute. Her palms were flat in the dirt. She curled them into fists, wrapping them into the dirt and then relaxing them. The shock of Ruth’s actions slowly sank into her. The hope she’d been clinging to flared up inside her again.
*
The more Ruth’s belly started to show the more mama and Sipsey started fussing over her. They were always telling her what she should and shouldn’t eat. One morning Ruth had an unstoppable craving for nothing but milk. The next morning she wanted some of mama’s peach cobbler, followed by spoonfuls of peanut butter. Idgie said she’d leave her green-topped tomatoes in the fridge in case Ruth was craving those. Ruth had smacked her arm and Idgie and mama both laughed. But the next morning Idgie had laughed uproariously when Ruth had opened the fridge and pulled out green-topped tomatoes.
*
There was a new man in town from Birmingham. Whistle Stop being the small town it was, it didn’t take long for word to spread. He was a bachelor who had been widowed a couple of years ago when his wife had died in child birth. Overcome with grief, he had quit his business and decided to sell the home and move. His story touched the hearts of most of the townsfolk, especially since all the ladies began telling of how mild-mannered and sweet he was, prone to tears when talking about his late wife.
Idgie and Ruth saw him in church during one of the rare occasions Idgie made a formal appearance. She called it her annual appearance so that her folks and Reverend Scroggins wouldn’t think she was actually going to hell, though Idgie secretly didn’t put much stock in heaven or hell. She had only ever told Ruth that.
The new fella’s name was Theodore Newman. Ted. When her old pals from The River Club had elbowed her about his good looks Idgie gave her usual response, which was to grab one of their pinky fingers and bend it until they called mercy.
Idgie didn’t think much else of Ted until he started showing up at The River Club the nights she and Ruth were there.
Ruth was playing a hand of poker with Grady and learning as she went. Idgie was watching over Ruth’s shoulder and making all manner of faces to Grady to try and throw him off. Ruth shooed at her.
“You’re breakin’ my concentration. Go on and get me some water,” she said.
Grinning, Idgie went over to the bar. Eva was working today. She ordered a glass of water and a beer for herself and lit up a Lucky Strike cigarette. Idgie threw her feet up on a stool and watched the poker game from a distance.
“You done got her actin’ like you. Look at her sittin’,” chided Eva playfully.
Ruth had turned her chair around backwards, arms leaning over the back, legs straddling the seat as she looked at her hand. Her belly showed like a melon from under her blouse. Idgie smiled.
“I’m damn proud of it too,” she said haughtily.
Then Ted came over to the game. Idgie had spied him about an hour ago, sticking close to the tables by the windows with some fellas. Now he walked up to the table, smiling and speaking to Grady, then Ruth. He even bowed a tiny bit and kissed the top of her hand.
Idgie clenched down on her jaw, stiffening on her stool. Ruth was friendly enough to him but it seemed she was more interested in the game. Idgie grabbed their drinks and made her way back over to them. She sauntered over to where Ted stood and announced loudly, “Here is your beverage, madame.”
Ignoring Ted, Idgie crouched down at the table and quickly re-involved herself in the game. Ted lingered another minute before going back over to the window tables.
*
Autumn crept up on them slowly. It was a fine time. Idgie felt as though each day was full to the brim, especially when they were spent mostly with Ruth. The days weren’t nearly as precious as the nights. Though they hadn’t had sex yet but Idgie didn’t much mind. Just being close to Ruth and feeling her kisses, feeling Ruth’s leg snake between her own when they chatted and having Ruth gaze at her so lovingly was enough.
Unfortunately whenever they went into town Idgie almost always saw Ted. And if Ted happened to see Ruth he would make a beeline towards them. Idgie would greet him politely but coolly, though Ted was only ever very pleasant to both of them. But Idgie saw where his gaze fell. And Ruth being Ruth, would no nothing but smile back at him. She did decline a lunch date with him to Idgie’s relief.
“I don’t like him,” Idgie said as they stood outside the grocery store, looking at the fruit displays. She knocked on a watermelon.
“Well, you don’t like anybody,” said Ruth, picking up an orange.
Idgie frowned at her. “You know what I mean.”
Ruth put the orange in a paper bag and turned to her, leaning against the watermelon stand.
“I do, yes,” she said. “And you should know you ain’t got nothing to worry about, so quit tryin’ to scare him.”
Idgie had relaxed a little after that.
*
It was Ruth’s birthday. It was also her older brother Cleo’s birthday. He’d gone off and married years earlier, but the day before his birthday he’d showed up at their doorstep, claiming he couldn’t go another birthday without home cooking and family. Mama and Papa were delighted. Idgie and Julian were happy to see him again. Since it was going to be a double birthday, everyone decided they should just throw a big party outside the house.
Late that morning Idgie helped set up tables and food. She shooed Ruth away every time the other woman attempted to help.
“It’s your day, now start enjoying it,” Idgie had told her.
By one in the afternoon half the town, it seemed, had showed up for Cleo and Ruth. There was food aplenty. Idgie had never seen Sipsey so excitable as she helped her set out peach and apple cobbler, a jam from every berry, mashed potatoes, fresh apples, turkey, fried chicken, lemonade, sweet tea, and every other thing that God could possibly provide.
But before they fully committed to the festivities Idgie brought Ruth upstairs and into her own room. She went to the closet and took out a wrapped box and handed it over. Ruth broke out in a smile.
“Idgie Threadgoode,” Ruth beamed at her.
Ruth carefully removed the wrapping and opened the box. She pulled out her own pearl necklace. She gave Idgie a baffled look and laughed a little.
“What on earth? I was lookin’ for this the other day.”
Idgie looked down at her shoes.
“You were mad at me that day I saw you wearin’ it. I was too dense to understand why at the time. And I was…a little bit of an ass.”
“You sure were.”
Idgie looked up. Ruth was giving her a scornful look.
“Yea well, I wanted to say I’m sorry. And that you looked beautiful in it. Really and truly. I want you to wear it.”
Ruth bit down on her lower lip, spreading the necklace between her fingers. She looked at Idgie through it. Her face had softened.
“Really?”
“Really. Here.”
Idgie took it from her and fastened it around her neck. It hung beautifully amidst Ruth’s black blouse with roses.
“Now that’s a damn fine sight,” said Idgie.
Ruth touched the tear-drop pearl in the middle of the necklace.
“Well it’s perfect then. I suppose I forgive you. I’ve never been able to stay mad at you anyhow.”
Ruth gave her a light kiss on the lips that lingered.
*
A couple of hours had passed and Idgie was having a fine time, mostly because Ruth was. Since Ruth couldn’t drink on account of the baby she told Idgie to drink for her. Idgie had no problem with that. Then she noticed Ted Newman had shown up with Grady. He had already made his way across the lawn and to where Ruth was, sampling some pie that the Reverend Scroggin’s wife had brought.
Idgie snagged Grady’s sleeve.
“What is he doin’ here?” Idgie demanded, drawing out each word with disapproval.
“Who, Teddy? Why, same reason all of us is here,” said Grady in his loud, booming voice. “And my my, look at the food. This is enough to feed an army.”
“Uh huh,” Idgie replied flatly, not taking her eyes off of Ted engaging with Ruth.
“Aw come on now Idgie,” said Grady, following her gaze. “Teddy’s a good fella. He’d be sweet for Ruth, ya know. He don’t seem to mind at all that’s about her condition.”
Idgie looked up at Grady and narrowed her eyes.
“He been tellin’ you things, Grady?”
Grady blinked, looking dodgy.
“Well now Idgie,” he began in his policeman voice, “men don’t go around betraying the confidences of other men…”
Idgie lifted her foot and knocked against the back of Grady’s knee. Grady’s leg buckled and Idgie grabbed his shirt collar before he could stand again. Idgie got close to him as she smiled politely at guests.
“Grady, Imma need you to tell me what he told you, ya hear?”
After more back and forth squabbling Grady did what Idgie knew he would and started talking. The long and short of it was that “Teddy” certainly had a crush on Ruth and had mentioned not minding at all that she was with someone else’s child.
“I’m sure he’s just wantin’ a family again, Idgie, since he lost his own wife and child…”
“Well he’s barkin’ up the wrong tree.”
Idgie kept a close eye on Ted after that. Luckily there were too many people hungry for Ruth’s attention and it was hard for him to stay close to her for too long. Still Idgie wasn’t about to let her guard down. An idea came to her, about how she might set Ted straight without it being obvious. Oh, it was a wicked idea, but harmless. But certainly wicked.
As the sun made its way across the sky Idgie sought out Grady again and suggested a poker game with the two of them and Ted. Grady agreed, of course, always ready to go head-to-head with Idgie with the cards.
They sat up a table and chairs under the big oak tree out front, a bit away from the rest of the party. Grady fetched Ted. Idgie was forced to do some small talk with the man first, just to make him comfortable. Then the game got underway. Idgie suggested a few minutes in they make it a drinking game. She let Grady tell stories about how much Idgie could drink—like Idgie figured he would—and that got Ted to agree to it.
Idgie kept her focus. Instead of doing real shots she made sure she had beer in her shotglass, which wasn’t hard to do under the table and when Ted was looking at his hand. They were over an hour in when everything was almost ruined when her daddy came by. But he promised Idgie he wouldn’t tell mama she was drinking and playing poker in their front yard as long as she cleaned up after herself. Idgie was never quite sure what he meant by that but she nodded just the same.
Ted, as it turned out, could handle his liquor. So Idgie upped the stakes, suggesting two shots. Ted was flushed enough to agree. Grady was half drunk and chatting away and gloating. Idgie ignored him. Just a few more doubles, she figured, and she’d have him. When the moment arrived and Ted was good and liquored up and lost the next hand, Idgie told him they were playing strip poker.
“You got to take off your shirt and pants, that’s my price,” Idgie said with a smile, taking a drag from her cigarette. She ignored Grady’s protests that he didn’t recall any such deal.
Ted looked confused. He was rosy-cheeked and slurring a bit.
“Well now, I don’t remember anyone sayin’ anything about—”
“Now now, Ted, don’t be backin’ out on the rules of the game.”
“No no,” Ted quickly said, unbuttoning his outer shirt, “I would never. Say, Miss Idgie…”
He struggled in his chair to get his arms out of his shirt, face knitted in concentration. “…I know you and Miss Jamison are good friends, and I was wonderin’ what you thought about me courting her. She’s such a fine Christian woman and all…”
Idgie stared at him, all the humor gone from her face. She tapped her cigarette and sat up in her chair.
“Well Ted,Miss Jamison isn’t lookin’ for a fella right now. Or ever.”
Ted shrugged one arm out of his shirt and flapped the other one out.
“Are you sure? ‘Cause if you don’t mind me sayin’ so, she could use a man in her life, what with the baby on the way and all…”
Idgie put out her cigarette and leaned over the table towards him.
“Oh I’m real sure. In fact, Ruth is feelin’ a bit crowded by you just a bit.”
“Now, that can’t be right,” Ted slurred out, dressed in his slack and a white undershirt. His glazed eyes met Idgie’s, ruddy, sloppy smile on his face. “I’m certain she’s interested.”
“Let it go, would ya?”
Grady spoke up.
“Now Idgie, just calm down. We’re all just havin’ a friendly game of poker here.”
“I’m certain,” Ted continued, “That I could provide for her, even if she didn’t want to marry me. We could be happy together, maybe she would even want to move back to Birmingham with me, start up a family…”
“Teddy…” Grady started.
Ted looked at Idgie.
“What do you say, Idgie?”
He was leaning over the table, practically leering at her. Something fierce like a lightning bolt shot through Idgie. She got out of her chair and punched Ted square in the nose, hard as she could. Ted fell backwards out of his chair. His legs shot out and kicked the bottom of the table. The whole thing tipped over, sending glasses and bottles and cards and money flying. Everyone around stopped and turned to stare. Grady leapt out of his chair.
“Idgie!” he yelled.
But another voice had snapped out her name at the same time. It was Ruth. She stood a few feet away now and she was looking from Idgie to Ted, horrified. Ruth ran over to Ted and helped him up, apologizing. His nose was a mess.
“She—she hit me! She’s crazy!”
Idgie stood rigid on the spot, fists still balled up and chest heaving. She heard Grady still yelling at her, heard the gasps of the guests. Grady escorted Ted away. Ruth turned to Idgie with pure fury in her eyes.
Slowly Idgie’s vision began to clear and she stopped hearing her pulse in her ears. She shook off the dull ache in her fist, eyes flitting to Ruth’s hard gaze.
“He was askin’ for it,” she said.
Ruth slowly shook her head, looking as if Idgie had committed a sin. She turned on her heel and stomped off towards the house. Idgie blinked, not sure what was happening.
“Ruth. Ruth wait!”
Idgie followed her but Ruth whirled around on her.
“Don’t! Leave me be.”
Idgie had never heard her so mad. It stunned her long enough for Ruth to make her way inside, slamming the door behind her. She heard the concerned voice of her mama from inside. Turning, Idgie faced the yard and a dozen or so people still staring at her. She ignored them all and walked off the porch and around the side of the house, until she was in the back yard. She walked towards the tomato garden. She heard people start to talk again, but the mood of the day was ruined.
She walked behind the tall vines of the tomato plants, hiding herself, and looking up at the sky. Tears clouded her vision. She fought them off hard, wiping at her cheeks. She could still see Ruth’s face and the anger and disappointment etched into it. Ruth had never looked at her like that.
Her chest tightened painfully. She snatched the bandana off her head and shredded it in half.
“Goddamnit!”
*
After about ten minutes Idgie couldn’t stand it anymore. She needed to talk to Ruth. She returned to the front of the house. The day was getting late and most people had cleared out. No doubt she had something to do with that but Idgie barely cared.
It was Big George who was waiting for her on the porch.
“Miss Idgie, she gone.”
Idgie stopped with her hand on the screen door.
“What?”
Big George nodded off towards the road.
“She done took Julian’s car and started off.”
Idgie blinked, trying to think.
“By herself? She’s four months pregnant.”
“I know, Miss Idgie. I try to go with her but she say she needed to be alone. She say she was goin’ to where the bees were. I figure you know what that means.”
Big George had always been intuitive where Idgie was concerned, and now where Idgie and Ruth were concerned. Idgie patted him affectionately on the arm, feeling a little calmer.
“Thanks, Big George.”
She took her daddy’s car and headed out.
*
It was about a twenty minute drive to the field with the single massive, sprawling oak tree. Little had changed in the near- five years since Idgie had last seen it. The old dead oak tree was still there too, though even from the dirt road she could tell there were no bees there now.
But Ruth was there.
Idige pulled up beside Julian’s car. She could see Ruth’s outline underneath the canopy of the oak. Its leaves were tinged red with an early fall and not the deep green she remembered.
Ruth leaned against the trunk of the tree. An old blanket that must have been in the car was spread out in front of her, empty.
Heart in her throat, Idgie crossed what felt like miles of grass to reach her. Ruth remained staring out past the old bee tree, arms loosely crossed.
“Hey,” Idgie said as she drew closer.
Tears streaked Ruth’s cheek though her expression was calm. Idgie felt like she ached all over, from her legs and arms to her chest and stomach and head. Strange, vague phantom aches. Mama used to tell her about phantom pains when someone was stressed real bad but Idgie had never really believed her until now.
Idgie put her palm against the massive trunk of the tree. She swallowed and looked down.
“I’m sorry Ruth, I know that was outta line back there,” she started, stammering a bit.
Ruth didn’t say anything right away so Idgie continued.
“But you gotta understand, he was goin’ on about courting you and movin’ away with you…hell, he even wanted to marry you and I just…I just went crazy.”
A tiny, jagged laugh escaped Idgie’s throat; she always laughed when she was nervous, when she felt her soft underbelly exposed. Ruth looked at her now. The sunset was disappearing below the treeline and Idgie could just make out her face.
“I would never have left anywhere with him,” she said with a tremor in her voice.
Her words made Idgie hate herself. “I know, I was crazy for even thinking otherwise,” she said, feeling the tears in her eyes again. “But you just make me so damn crazy, Ruth. I don’t know what I’d do if you left me again.”
Her throat closed up on her and a sob escaped her lips. She could hardly bare to see Ruth looking at her now so she stared down at her shoes through the tears.
“Idgie,” Ruth said in that silk-petal tone, “I’m not mad about Ted anymore. It was foolish, but that ain’t it.”
Idgie looked up and met her gaze. Ruth blinked and shook her head. She looked heavenward and closed her eyes, fighting off more tears. Idgie felt helpless, useless. She reached out and touched Ruth’s shoulder.
“Ruth please, what’s wrong? What can I do?”
Ruth shook her head more vehemently this time.
“It’s not you. It’s me. It’s all my fault, don’t you see?”
“What’s your fault?”
“Everything, Idgie! For years—damn years!—I’ve thought about it over and over, but no matter how I figure it, the truth’s still the truth. I should have never left Whistle Stop in the first place. I should have never left you. And then your mother told me how you were after I left…God, Idgie, I can only imagine…I was so damn selfish! It was unbearably hard to leave you that summer, but I tucked my feelings away, buried them. I thought I had to. But I was wrong. None of this would have happened if I had just stayed. Oh, God give me strength.”
Ruth buried her face in her hands and sagged against the tree. Idgie stood there, stunned. And suddenly she understood. How timid Ruth had been around her for the longest time wasn’t just because of what Frank had done; that glass smile, the way Ruth had been as complicit in the distance between them as Idgie had.
Idgie leaned hard against the tree. She heard herself speak as if from far away.
“That warm summer’s night at The River Club,” she said, feeling dazed, “I was so stupid. I pushed away from you, hid like a scared little girl. I still don’t know why. I wanted you so bad. I told myself, after you left, we could’a at least had that night…”
Ruth shook her head.
“No. Don’t ever be sorry for that night. That night was the best—”
She cut off. Idgie couldn’t speak. Ruth steadied her gaze again.
“Neither one of us was ready,” she started again. “You never, ever tried to force me. And I love you even more for that. Come here.”
Idgie sucked in a breath. Ruth grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. She clasped Idgie’s face between her hands and Idgie found herself close enough to see tiny flecks of olive in Ruth’s beautiful irises.
“I’m sorry I ever left,” said Ruth.
Idgie shook her head between Ruth’s hands.
“I made peace with that already,” she said softly. “I’m not mad at you, Ruth.”
Ruth closed her eyes slowly before opening them again.
“Oh Idgie Threadgoode, if only people knew the real you. I don’t deserve you.”
Idgie snorted. “Oh please. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve y—”
Ruth cut her off with a kiss filled with ten furies. It took Idgie’s breath away. She opened her mouth and let Ruth in. They kissed and kissed. Ruth tasted like honey and summer and everything Idgie could imagine and couldn’t. Idgie closed her mouth over the pulse in Ruth’s neck and Ruth moaned. She hiked up her dress and Idgie’s leg slipped between it, rubbing. They built up a sweet rhythm and Idgie couldn’t quite believe it was happening. Then Ruth took Idgie’s hand from her face and moved it down between her legs. Idgie moved her leg and let Ruth guide her under the silky fabric until Idgie was touching her heat. Ruth was already soaked.
Idgie let out a shaky breath against Ruth’s neck as her fingers explored, finding all the hills and valleys of Ruth and making her moan. Ruth kicked off her heels and rolled her hips.
“Idgie please…” she whispered, panting.
Idgie slipped a finger inside her, then another. She slid in easily up to her knuckles. Jesus, Ruth felt so damn good. She kissed Ruth’s open, panting mouth, moving her fingers. Ruth pressed hard against the tree, eyes fluttering.
Idgie slid a third finger in, desperate for more of Ruth. Ruth fisted Idgie’s yellow hair and gasped. She leaned her forehead on Idgie’s, hot and sticky. Everything was hot and sticky now, like honey.
Idgie remembered then, in a pulsing flash, that day on this spot when Ruth had dipped her fingers into the jar of honey Idgie had retrieved for her. Idgie had already loved the other woman, but the way Ruth had looked at her then, calling her a bee charmer. Idgie knew then she was in love.
Yet no jar of honey could compare to this honey. She pumped her fingers and Ruth moved against her, writhing. Her breaths came faster and faster into Idgie’s mouth. With loud gasps Ruth came hard. Idgie felt her orgasm as if it was her own.
Long minutes passed. Idgie was leaning against Ruth, whimpering and still inside her. Ruth was limp all over but holding her just the same. The only sounds now were of cicadas and their breathing.
Maybe of Idgie’s heart in her own chest.
*
They didn’t go home right away.
The sun was gone and the sky was deep purple. Twinkling stars seemed to simply appear. The heat of the day was fading. Idgie and Ruth sat on the blanket.
They shared an easy silence. It wasn’t long before Idgie kissed her again, thumb soft over Ruth’s chin. They kissed gently now. Idgie wondered if people could get hooked on kissing the way they did alcohol. She figured there wasn’t much difference.
They lay down on the blanket, kissing some more. Ruth touched her face gently. She rubbed Idgie’s arms, rolled her palm under Idgie’s shirt and across her waist.
“I’d burn in a thousand hells if this is even a piece of heaven,” said Idgie.
Ruth frowned gently at her, eyes bright.
“Quit blaspheming.”
Idgie let out a sigh.
“Yes ma’am.”
Ruth worked at the buttons to the front of Idgie’s pinstripe shirt. Idgie let her, revealing more skin underneath. Ruth moved to kiss the flat of her chest, peppering little kisses that almost tickled. Her lips were a pleasant lukewarm on Idgie’s skin. They found the small roundness of a breast over Idgie’s bra. Ruth shifted again so that she might reach her easier.
Idgie wound her fingers through Ruth’s hair. Ruth had amazingly soft hair. Not thick and scraggily like Idgie’s own but almost feather-like. She sighed again. She let the lazy, happy smile on her face spread.
Ruth had managed to unfasten her bra. Idgie had arched a little off the blanket to let her. Ruth looked up at her, slipping the straps from Idgie’s shoulders and kissing her Adam’s Apple. She kissed it gingerly but fully, teeth and tongue just grazing around it. Idgie shuddered.
Ruth slipped her bra off. For a few seconds Idgie felt the strangeness of exposure and the little shock of cool air on her. But Ruth gave her warmth soon enough, teasing both her nipples until they were hard peaks. Idgie moaned and squirmed a little. She knew she was wet between her legs, maybe more wet than she had ever been.
Ruth kissed underneath her breasts. Her tongue licked at the shallow creases and Idgie gasped a little. Ruth took her time but Idgie began to feel a growing tension, until she stilled.
“Hey.”
Ruth stopped and looked up. When she saw Idgie’s face she came up to kiss her cheek.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’, exactly,” said Idgie slowly, feeling out of sorts. But Ruth looked at her with nothing but love and patience.
“Well, what not exactly, is wrong then?”
“I just…in all the times I’ve thought about this, even when I was younger, I never imagined…you know…bein’ on the receiving end of things?” Idgie offered, looking hopefully at Ruth.
Ruth’s eyes narrowed in thought before she smiled.
“Oh yea?”
Idgie shrugged, feeling useless again.
“I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to,” said Ruth.
“I want you to!” Idgie said quickly. “I just…I feel…”
“I was nervous too,” Ruth said in a quiet voice, almost a whisper.
Idgie rolled her eyes and huffed out a laugh. It was on the tip of her tongue to deny that of course, but the words failed her.
“I’ll take it slow,” Ruth promised.
And she did. She went back to Idgie’s stomach, peppering kisses. Her tongue dipped down into her bellybutton and the feeling sent a sharp but delightful shock through Idgie.
Ruth unbuttoned and unzipped the green shorts Idgie was wearing. She did this with the same pace as everything else, kissing along Idgie’s waist and over the juts of her hipbone, then over the fleshy part of her thighs.
Idgie was amazed at how relaxed all of this made her feel. Aroused as hell, yes, but her nerves weren’t as bundled up anymore. Ruth glanced up at her a couple of times, asking with her eyes. Idgie hummed.
“Keep goin’.”
Finally off came her shoes and pants. Idgie felt the strange coolness again against her exposed skin. Ruth’s nails gently scraped and traced through the hairs between her thighs. Idgie shuddered again. Her breaths grew heavy. She bent her leg as Ruth kissed the inside of her thigh. Her kisses grew deep, until she was sucking Idgie’s skin into her mouth, bound to leave bruising.
“How do you know all this?” Idgie dared to ask when she thought her voice wasn’t too husky and raw.
Now it was Ruth’s turn to let out a nerve-filled giggle.
“I don’t know. I’m just making it up as I go.”
“Well you’re doin’ a damn fine job!”
Seconds later Idgie felt Ruth’s tongue lap straight up the center of her heat and to her nub. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Oh! Oh fuuck…”
Her legs spread further and she gasped. Ruth’s tongue went up and down. Every time it touched her nub it was like a hot spark ignited and shot through her body. She heard herself mutter Ruth’s name more than once. When she looked down all she could see was a sea of soft brown hair between her legs. Ruth’s arms came up around Idgie’s thighs. Her tongue pressed harder against Idgie’s heat. Idgie threw her head back. Her throat felt like cotton, her cheeks and chest warm. Ruth’s whole mouth pressed over her like a kiss down below. Her tongue penetrated Idgie and flicked. Idgie jerked, arching off the blanket.
“Oh God, Ruth…”
Ruth mouthed her nub, sucking at it and pulling off agonizingly slowly. Idgie had her eyes closed. Her hand had strayed down to the top of Ruth’s head. Now Idgie felt Ruth’s fingers glide over her folds. Good lord, she was so wet it would have been embarrassing if she wasn’t half lost in what Ruth was doing.
Idgie opened her eyes, startled, when Ruth’s lips pressed softly against her own. Her fingers were still working her, thumb rubbing circles over that particular spot and making it throb and ache in a terrible kind of pleasure.
Idgie tore at the top of Ruth’s dress until her breasts were bared. She hugged Ruth to her so that their skin matched up. Ruth kissed her hard and Idgie heard her heavy breathing, blending into her own.
Idgie’s sex was swollen and felt ready to burst. Ruth’s fingers slipped inside her and she went down Idgie’s body again. Her tongue flicked out and Idgie thought she might die. Ruth sped up a tiny bit. Her arm drifted up Idgie’s stomach and Idgie reached down and grasped it hard, their fingers locking together. At last Idgie felt the dam break over her. It was like a thousand tiny explosions went off at once, pulsing and sending out vibrations up into her chest until she could scarcely breathe with the power of it. Then she was letting out high-pitched moans, all of it because of Ruth.
Ruth’s fingers slowed to a crawl, mouth just brushing against her nub. Each touch was like a jolt, until Idgie was left as limp as a noodle, trying to catch air.
Ruth came up beside her. Idgie groaned just looking at her, a little shocked. Ruth’s eyes were blown back. Her cheeks were flushed and sweaty, hair clinging to her throat.
She slid two fingers into her mouth—the same fingers that had done the work—and closed her eyes. Idgie’s breath stuttered.
“What do I taste like?” she asked in a raw whisper.
Ruth licked her lips and beamed at her.
“Like wild honey, of course.”
*
Theodore Newman didn’t bother them anymore. He left Whistle Stop a few weeks later, saying that he was hankering to do some traveling. The last time Idgie saw him outside of McCollum’s Grocery, saying good-bye to folks, he avoided her, giving her a nervous tip of his hat. Idgie slid up next to Ruth and put an arm around her waist, grinning at Ted like a Cheshire Cat.
“Don’t you worry about Ruth now Teddy,” Idgie said. “We’re gonna be justfine.”
Ruth threw her a look and elbowed her, but not before a snicker had escaped her.
Back at the Threadgoode home Idgie had a lot to answer for after punching Ted. The only sound excuse she could give, of course, was that she’d drank too much that night. Mama made her clean the entire house, top to bottom, for the next three days. Then she had to help Sipsey with everything else for two weeks afterward. And there was mandatory church attendance. Both mama and papa and even Big George were amazed at how Idgie didn’t seem to mind any of it.
It didn’t matter what backbreaking chore she was doing, because all Ruth had to do was throw her a smile or walk by and Idgie just beamed.
Soon enough Ruth’s belly was the size of a watermelon. Idgie kept talking to her belly in their bed at night, especially after the doctor said it was probably a boy. Ruth had agreed with him. She could feel it in her bones, she said.
Mama and Sipsey weren’t the only ones fussing over Ruth after that. Idgie found herself joining in, saying it was time to move Ruth downstairs. And why not get her the softest pillows and nicest blankets? And furthermore, the baby could come at any time and she didn’t want Ruth going far. Ruth fussed right back at her.
“I’m not an invalid,” she would say. “Y’all are gonna spoil me with all this pampering.”
They were in town and coming out of church when Ruth stopped suddenly and grabbed Idgie’s arm. Ruth’s water had broke.
They’d rushed her home. Idgie spent the rest of the day on pins and needles. The whole house was on pins and needles, to be fair, but Idgie was the worst. Long hours passed with Ruth in labor. The doctor was there. Sipsey acted as nurse, and mama whispered encouragements to Ruth. Ruth listened between pants and deep breaths, since Mama Threadgoode was a veteran at it. There wasn’t much for Idgie to do and it about drove her crazy. Ruth would go through a rough patch and make the most awful noises. Idgie had never seen someone sweat so much. She stayed in the room beside Ruth, holding her hand. Sometimes Ruth gripped her hand so tight it felt like her bones might break but Idgie never said a word about it. Other times Ruth would yell at everyone to leave her alone for a minute and everyone would vacate except for Sipsey. By now the Reverend Scroggins had arrived. He and the others stayed in the living room and offered prayers.
At long last the moment drew close. Sipsey came out of the room and said Ruth was hollering for her. Sweating bullets, Idgie went to her. A little while later Idgie came bounding into the living room like a mad squirrel, whooping and hollering, “She did it! It’s a boy!”
She cussed up a storm in front of the reverend, but even he didn’t seem to mind on this day. Idgie drank a beer fast enough to make her dizzy. Everyone was in a mood to celebrate.
They gave the doctor some time to clean up Buddy Jr. and make sure he and Ruth were all right. Then Idgie and her parents were summoned back.
Idgie had never expected to feel so giddy over Ruth’s baby. But as she gingerly took the small bundle from Ruth’s arms and looked at his tiny, cherubic face Idgie felt nothing but instant love.
When her eyes looked up at Buddy’s mother in the bed Idgie knew she’d fight ten thousand stinging bees to keep them both.
The senior Threadgoodes left, leaving Ruth and Idgie alone with Buddy Jr. Idgie gently nestled Buddy Jr. in Ruth’s very tired but capable arms, kneeling next to her on the bed. Ruth clamped a hand over Idgie’s. Idgie kissed it softly before kissing Ruth’s forehead.
“I want you to know something,” said Ruth. “I want you to know that this here isn’t Frank Bennett’s child. It’s yours. And mine. Ours.”
Ruth was gazing at her seriously, brown eyes full to the brim. Idgie had to look down for a minute, afraid she might become completely lost in that gaze forever and not mind it one bit. When she looked up again she was grinning.
“Well all right then,” she said with a nod. She couldn’t quite keep her voice from shaking.
*
Idgie let Ruth rest in the following days, letting her get her strength back and trying not to tire her out with more wild tales she’d picked up from The River Club. Buddy Jr. was thriving. There were bodies in the house all the time now to see and gush over him. And Sipsey and mama received oodles of specially made dishes from the church for Ruth and everyone.
But everything wasn’t quite perfect. As cooler weather started setting in and the leaves all turned colors, Idgie often thought Ruth looked troubled.
It was a lot harder with the baby for the two of them to make much noise at all during the nights. They often just slept together. And Idgie would sometimes stay just to keep Ruth company for a while and then leave, always afraid that Sipsey or her mama might come knocking, just to make sure everything was all right if the baby was crying.
But tonight it was Ruth who snuck into Idgie’s room after the house was quiet.
Idgie sat up in bed, alarmed. In the darkness Ruth motioned for her to relax.
“It’s okay,” whispered Ruth, stepping over to the side of the bed and crawling in next to Idgie.
“The baby’s sound asleep. I needed to talk to you.”
Idgie rubbed her eyes and lit a candle.
“Is this about me tellin’ Grady and the boys that Buddy had swallowed a bullet? ‘Cause you gotta admit Ruth, the looks on their faces…”
Even now Idgie snickered at the joke. Ruth bit off a laugh and shushed her.
“No, you fool,” she said softly. “This is about us with Buddy now. I cain’t live off charity and good will forever. I don’t want to. I need to make money.”
Idgie flicked her wrist.
“Don’t worry about all that. You know you can stay here as long as you need to.”
“And you could do with an income too,” Ruth added, eyeing her.
Idgie huffed out a sigh and gave a little shake of her head. She frowned out into the darkness beyond the candle light.
“Well?” she asked when Ruth just kept looking at her. “What did ya have in mind?”
A smile broke out on Ruth’s face.
“I was thinkin’ we could start a café.”
It took a little more convincing for Idgie that Ruth was serious.
“You know how I don’t like us foolin’ around when the baby’s here,” Ruth said, gliding down further on the bed.
“Yea…”
“Well…”
Ruth took Idgie’s hand and guided it under the sheets and between her legs. She bit her bottom lip and looked at Idgie through her lashes, making Idgie’s throat go dry.
“I’m real serious,” said Ruth.
Idgie made love to her. Ruth stayed quiet the whole time, but when she gasped and arched off the bed Idgie knew she’d done her right.
It wasn’t such a bad idea, really. But they’d need a lot of money to even start such a thing so Idgie asked Papa Threadgoode if he’d consider taking out a loan. Ruth had to be there for the conversation, because papa was convinced his youngest daughter was pulling his leg for a long mile. Convinced at last (and not without Idgie’s pride suffering some), Papa agreed.
It was a big undertaking, starting from scratch, but between Big George, Idgie’s brother Julian, and all their friends, they had a nice building erected in the center of town by springtime.
All the while neither of them could decide on a proper name for the place. Everyone seemed to have an idea as to what it should be called, and pretty soon Idgie had no idea what to call it, aside from the Whistle Stop Café.
“Yea but it needs somethin’ else,” Idgie said thoughtfully to Ruth one day. “That sounds fine and all but if we wanna attract people from other parts and have word get around, well, we need something…ya know, catchy.”
“I know,” said Ruth a little impishly. “We’ll sit up a booth inside for you and you can charge a quarter for people to hear you tell all them crazy stories. Idgie’s Tall Tales at the Whistle Stop Café, we’ll call it. They’ll come from miles around—just miles—to hear you offer up how them ducks took that lake with them. And how our son swallowed a bullet. And—”
Idgie clamped a palm over Ruth’s mouth. She could feel Ruth smiling.
“That’s quite enough.”
Idgie held her gaze and removed her hand, replacing it with her lips.
*
Springtime was busy for them. Every day was filled its share of adventures and challenges with the café. Idgie and Ruth started in on painting it and decided what was to go where on the inside and how many booths they ought to have and couldn’t they use all that space out back for Big George to cook his barbeque?
Buddy Jr. grew like a weed. He had a nice head of hair on him at six months old which Idgie immediately attributed to his mother. Everything Buddy got came from his mother, as far as Idgie was concerned. The father simply didn’t exist for them.
One day one of Ruth’s Sunday school students said the baby had Idgie’s smile. His mother agreed and pretty soon whenever they took the baby out in public folks who’d known Idgie long enough started saying Buddy had the same gleam in his eyes or the same shaped ears, or all manner of things that made Idgie beam and act smug. Ruth found it adorable. Then Mama Threadgoode even remarked that Buddy had Idgie’s scream when she’d been a baby. Ruth had laughed and Idgie pinked at that, throwing her mama a dirty look.
The café was near finished by late June. Idgie and Ruth spent all week gathering supplies for the kitchen and then deciding what cabinets and drawers everything would go in. There was a nice long stretch of a counter Big George had built that went under the freshly painted cabinets with glass doors. Idgie leaned against it at the end of the day, wiping down her face with her bandana.
“Y’all go on home now, we’re gonna clean up a bit,” Ruth was saying as the last of the help left for the day. She returned to the kitchen with Idgie.
“A few more days we can be open for business,” Ruth said proudly.
“It’s damn near time,” said Idgie. She plucked a cigarette out from her pack on the counter and stuck it between her lips.
Ruth walked over to where Idgie still leaned against the counter and planted herself in front of the other woman. Ruth placed her hands on either side of the table, pinning Idgie in place. Idgie tossed her bandana aside and smiled at her. Ruth took the smoke from her lips.
“You just tell me where you want that booth for those tall tales…”
“Will you…shutup…about that….”
With each syllable Idgie spoke she took Ruth’s arms and wrapped them around her and kissed her jawline. She moved back to Ruth’s mouth and found it hungry so she kissed harder. Ruth pressed herself into Idgie against the counter, hands wondering all over Idgie’s shirt. But even as Idgie’s arousal grew so too did something nagging grow. She broke off their kissing and pressed her lips together, looking down at their feet. Ruth smoothed out Idgie’s hair.
“What?”
Idgie shrugged a shoulder.
“Nothin’.”
“What’s nothin’?”
Idgie looked up at her.
“Are you sure this is what you want? I mean really sure?”
Ruth gave a sigh and a small smile. She put her hands on either side of Idgie again.
“I never told you this, exactly, but that day you took me out there on that picnic with the bees…”
“Yea?”
“When I saw you walking back towards me with that jar of honey…you looked up at me and waved and smiled like it was nothin’…it wasn’t you I thought was crazy. It was me. Because by the time you’d made it back to me I was in love with you. There wasn’t much second guessing to do about it. I knew. I knew it then and that feeling never went away. You told me you did it all the time…getting’ honey like that…but I know that was a lie.”
Idgie opened her mouth to protest but Ruth cut her off.
“No ma’am, don’t lie again. You’d never done it before, had you?”
Idgie searched Ruth’s face and shook her head slowly. Tiny little laugh.
“No.”
“Mmm. I didn’t think so.”
Ruth kissed her again and pressed every inch of herself into Idgie then and all of Idgie’s little demons fled from her. Ruth was like pure light shining everywhere inside and all around her. Idgie moved her hand down and hiked up Ruth’s dress, feeling her own center start to grow wet. She rubbed against the thin layer of cotton under Ruth’s dress and Ruth hummed.
She sucked the pulse under Idgie’s ear while her other hand untucked Idgie’s shirt and found its way to her breast. She pulled down Idgie’s bra and pinched her nipple. It sent an electric current through Idgie. She pulled down Ruth’s underwear and rubbed her fingers over her soft folds, parting them like petals on a flower until Ruth’s breath hitched.
Ruth kept her pressed hard against the counter though, refusing to let Idgie flip her around. She had Idgie’s shirt open and her bra unsnapped as she peppered kisses down to her breasts. Idgie bent over to grind her fingers harder against Ruth’s sex. Ruth moaned. Idgie lost her spot between Ruth’s legs as Ruth dipped down her chest again and rolled the tip of her tongue around Idgie’s nipple before kissing over her breasts again, almost frantic.
Idgie finally pushed hard enough off the counter to get at Ruth again. Ruth was slipping out of the top of her dress, bra undone and discarded, as Idgie pressed her against the counter opposite. Ruth let her touch her below again. Idgie was getting hotter by the second, throat gone dry again as her fingers found Ruth’s most sensitive spot and worked it. Ruth threw her head back and gasped. Then she shooed away Idgie’s arm to get at Idgie’s belt buckle.
Idgie felt another sharp wave of heat run through her. Her pants pooled around her ankles and she kicked them off. Swift as a swallow, Ruth had her against the counter again.
“Up,” she said.
Idgie hopped up on the flat piece of wood, dazzled, as Ruth wasted no time in spreading her legs and going down between them. Ruth’s tongue hit her dead center and Idgie cussed softly.
“Oh fuck, Ruth…”
Idgie leaned back on her palms. Ruth had one leg over her shoulder, fingers coming up to further spread open Idgie between her legs. There was nowhere Ruth didn’t taste her, no single fold or crevice left unexplored. She was at Ruth’s mercy.
Ruth worked her over good, mouth engulfing her at times and tongue pushing inside her, then working her spot so fast tears pricked Idgie’s eyes.
But always Ruth would stop and come up to kiss her a couple times. Idgie had never tasted so much of herself on Ruth’s lips before and it about drove her crazy. The last time Ruth left her sex to kiss her mouth, Idgie whined and gasped and cussed. Everything throbbed in all the right ways. Ruth caught her gaze for a second. They were both breathless.
“Please Ruth…” Idgie heard herself say, scarcely recognizing her own voice.
“I love you,” Ruth panted out. Then she went back down again and Idgie tried her hardest not to scream, bucking into Ruth’s face as she came.
Feeling like pudding, Idgie tugged at Ruth to join her on the counter. They lay there for a moment. But as soon as Idgie caught her breath she pinned Ruth under her, fingers finding her sex. Idgie groaned with how wet Ruth still was. She rubbed and circled and massaged Ruth, teasing at her entrance before plunging one, then two fingers in quick succession inside her.
At one point Idgie glanced up and saw the basket of fresh green tomatoes, washed and ready to cook, on the floor.
Ruth scraped her nails over Idgie’s back. She slid her hands down to grab Idgie’s ass as Idgie began fucking her in earnest. Now it was Ruth’s turn to cuss. Idgie grinned to herself in the crook of Ruth’s neck. God, Ruth was hot and wet and just tight enough. Idgie worked her and slid a third finger inside. Ruth’s body tensed and spasmed. Idgie fucked her until her wrist began to ache and still didn’t stop, not until Ruth’s body seized up and then started fluttering around her fingers. Ruth held her closer, wrapping her legs around Idgie’s back as she came.
*
Ruth set the little paint brush in its can of red paint and stepped back to look at her handiwork. Her and Idgie were both splotched in white and red paint, covering their hands and overalls. Idgie came up beside her, smiling. They stood in front of the café door.
“It’s perfect,” she said.
“I think so too,” said Ruth. “But I gotta ask. Why fried green tomatoes?”
Idgie glanced around them and back at Ruth covertly. She licked her lips and whispered in Ruth’s ear. Ruth drew back and looked at her, blushing a bit.
“You did not. While we was…”
Ruth’s eyes darted around self consciously. Her voice dropped.
“While we were…makin’ love?”
Idgie beamed and nodded.
“Yep. And well, it was really because of that day when we were pickin’ tomatoes out in mama’s garden last year, you remember? That day you kissed me. And then I saw them sittin’ there on the floor the other day and I don’t know, it just seemed…”
“Catchy,” Ruth finished for her, eyes dancing bright.
Idgie bit her bottom lip. “Yep.”
She wound her arm over Ruth’s shoulder as they looked at the finished product. The sun was shining, making the freshly painted words even brighter: Fried Green Tomatoes Served Hot at the Whistle Stop Café.”
***