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Before he knew what was happening, his little sister, Bernice, broke away from him, and ran up to her mother and pulled her by the hem of her dress.
"Momma, don't. . . !"
Still wild-eyed and in a trance, she glanced down at her child for one split second, and in that second the rattler lunged and struck the woman in the side of her face. She looked back at the snake, stu
His mother looked around the room that was now as silent as death, with a surprised look on her face, and as her eyes glazed over, she sank slowly to the floor. She was dead in less than a minute.
In that moment, his uncle had picked up Smokey and was headed out the door. Bernice went to live with a neighbor, and Smokey stayed at his uncle's house. Then, when he was thirteen, he headed down the railroad tracks toward nowhere, and never came back.
The only thing he took with him was a photograph of his sister. He would take it out every once in awhile. There they were in the fading photograph, with their lips and cheeks painted pink: a little chubby girl with bangs and a pink ribbon tied around her head, wearing a tiny string of pearls; and he sat just behind her, his brown hair slicked down, his cheek pressed close to hers.
He often wondered how Bernice was doing and thought he'd look her up one of these days, if he ever got back on his feet.
When he was about twenty or so, he lost the picture when some railroad bull detective kicked him off a freight, into a cold, yellow river somewhere in Georgia, and now he hardly ever thought about her; except when he happened to be on a train, passing through the Smoky Mountains at night, on his way to somewhere else . . .
This morning, Smokey Phillips was on a mixed train from Georgia, headed for Florida. He had not eaten anything for two days and remembered that his friend Elmo Williams had told him there were two women ru
He found the place across the tracks, just like Elmo had said. It was a small green building with a green-and-white awning under a Coca-Cola sign that said THE WISTLE STOP CAFE. He went around the back and knocked on the screen door. A little black woman was busy frying chicken and slicing green tomatoes. She glanced at him and called out, "Miz Idgie!"
Pretty soon, a good-looking, tall blonde with freckles and curly hair came to the door, wearing a clean white shirt and men's trousers. She looked to be in her early twenties.
He took off his hat. "Excuse me, ma'am, I was wondering if you had an odd job, or something I might do. I've had a run of some bad luck, lately."
Idgie looked at the man in the worn-out dirty jacket, frayed brown shirt, and cracked leather laceless shoes and knew he wasn't lying.
She opened the door and said, "Come on in, fella. I think we can find something for you." Idgie asked what his name was. "Smokey, ma'am."
She turned to the woman behind the counter. Smokey hadn't seen a neat and clean woman in months, and this one was the prettiest woman he had seen in his entire life. She was wearing a dotted swiss organdy dress and had her auburn hair pulled back with a red ribbon.
"Ruth, this is Smokey, and he's go
Ruth looked at him and smiled. "That will be fine. Nice to meet you."
Idgie pointed to the men's room. "Why don't you go in there and freshen up, and then come have a bite to eat."
"Yes ma'am."
The bathroom was big and had a light bulb hanging down from the ceiling, and when he pulled it he saw that there was a big stand-up claw-foot tub over in the corner, with a black rubber stopper on a chain. On the sink, already laid out, was a razor and a dish of shaving soap with a brush.
As he looked at himself in the mirror, he felt ashamed that they had seen him so dirty, but he had not had more than a speaking acquaintance with soap for quite a while now. He took the big bar of brown Oxydol soap and tried to scrub all the grime and coal dust off his face and hands. He had not had a drink in twenty-four hours, and his hands shook so bad he was not able to get a clean shave, but he did the best he could. After he had splashed himself with the Old Spice shaving lotion and combed his hair with the Ace comb he had found on the shelf above the sink, he came back out into the cafe.
Idgie and Ruth had set a place for him at a table. He sat down to a plate of fried chicken, black-eyed peas, turnip greens, fried green tomatoes, cornbread, and iced tea.
He picked up his fork and tried to eat. His hands were still shaking and he was not able to get the food to his mouth. He spilled his tea all over his shirt.
He had been hoping they were not watching, but in a minute the blond woman said, "Smokey, come on, let's take a walk outside."
He got his hat and used his napkin, thinking he was being thrown out. "Yes'm."
She walked him out behind the cafe, where there was a field.
"You're a pretty nervous fella, aren't you?"
"I'm sorry about spilling my food in there, ma'am, but to tell you the honest to God truth . . . well. . . I'll just head on, but thank you anyway . . ."
Idgie reached in her apron pocket and pulled out a half-pint bottle of Old Joe Whiskey and handed it to him.
He was a mighty appreciative man. He said, "God bless you for a saint, ma'am," and they sat down on a log out by the shed.
While Smokey was calming his nerves, she talked to him.
"See that big plot of empty land over there?"
He looked over. "Yes'm."
"Years ago, that used to be the most beautiful little lake in Whistle Stop . . . in the summer, we'd swim in it and fish, and you could go for a boat ride if you wanted to." She shook her head sadly. "I sure do miss it, I sure do."
Smokey looked at the vacant land.
“What happened to it, did it dry up?"
She lit a cigarette for him. "Naw, it was worse than that. One November, a big flock of ducks, oh, about forty or more, landed right smack in the middle of that lake, and while they were sitting there, that afternoon, a fluke thing happened. The temperature dropped so fast that the whole lake froze over, as solid as a rock, in a matter of three seconds. One, two, three, just like that."
Smokey was amazed at the thought. "You don't mean it?"
"Yep."
"Well, I reckon it must have killed them ducks."
Idgie said, "Why, hell no. They just flew off and took the lake with 'em. That lake's somewhere in Georgia, to this very day..."
He turned and looked at her, and when he realized she was pulling his leg, his blue eyes crinkled up and he started laughing so hard that he started to cough at the same time, and she had to bang him on the back.
He was still wiping his eyes when they went back in the cafe, where his di
Oh, where is my wandering boy tonight
The boy of his mother's pride...
Oh, he's counting the ties
With a bed on his back
Or else he's dinging a ride...
Oh, where is my boy tonight?
OCTOBER 22, 1929
Meteorite to Be on Display at Cafe
Mrs. Biddie Louise Otis a