“It is.” He stands up, picking up his plate. “Listen, don’t be a stranger, Eleanor. Our doors are always open for worship, conversation, or just banana pudding.”
He moves away, and I’m feeling strangely touched by the encounter. Whatever I expected from the man who was supposed to inherit my bar, it wasn’t his kindness.
The banana pudding incident happens about twenty minutes later.
I’ve made my way over to the dessert table, determined to fulfill my obligation to try Ruthie’s famous dessert. The pudding is in a large glass dish, layered with vanilla custard, bananas, and what look like vanilla wafers, topped with a cloud of meringue. I take a modest portion because I’m still full from the mountain of food I was forced to consume, and return to my seat.
The first bite is wonderful. It’s sweet, but not too much, with a perfect balance of textures. Creamy custard, soft banana, a slight crunch of the wafers. And I understand immediately why everyone insisted I try it. But I’m so stuffed already that I can’t possibly finish it.
“What do you think?” Ruthie says as she materializes beside me like an apparition.
“It’s delicious,” I say. “The texture is perfect. Surprisingly better than the banana pudding I’ve had in Atlanta.”
I mean this, of course, as a compliment. I’m comparing her creation favorably to every other banana pudding I’ve ever tasted.
But something in Ruthie’s expression shifts. Her smile freezes, becomes fixed, and slightly brittle.
“Better than Atlanta banana pudding,” she repeats. “Well, that’s something, I suppose.”
She moves away before I can clarify, and I’m left wondering what I did wrong.
Dolly leans over, her voice low. “Honey, you just implied that you were surprised her pudding was any good. Like you expected it to be worse than what you’re used to.”
“Oh, that’s not what I meant at all. I was saying it’s better.”
“I know that. I understand what you meant. But the way you said it,” she shakes her head, “around here, a compliment that sounds like it’s grading someone just doesn’t land well. You don’t compare. You just appreciate.”
I think about this, replaying my words in my head. “It’s delicious” would have been enough. Adding the comparison, even a favorable one, implied I was judging her against some external standard and was surprised she even measured up.
Yikes.
“I should apologize.”
“Yeah, you should, but maybe wait a bit. Let her cool down.”
I spend the rest of the potluck aware of every word that comes out of my mouth, second-guessing every interaction. When someone asks what I think of Copper Creek, I say, “It’s lovely,” and nothing else. When someone compliments my dress, I say, “Thank you,” without adding that I got it at Neiman Marcus. When someone offers me more food, I accept even though I’m full, so full I might burst.
By the time the potluck winds down, I’m exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with physical exertion.
I later find Ruthie in the church kitchen washing dishes.
“Ruthie, I wanted to apologize.”
She doesn’t stop washing, but she does glance up at me. “For what?” Her voice is high-pitched like she’s trying to sound unbothered.
“For what I said about the banana pudding. I didn’t mean to imply I wasn’t…” I trail off, then try again. “I wasn’t trying to suggest that I was surprised it was good. I just meant that it’s the best I ever had, period. And there was no comparison necessary.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her hands still moving in the soapy water. Then she sighs.
“I knew you didn’t mean anything by it. Dolly explained you’re still learning how things work around here.”
She sets down the dish she’s washing and turns to face me.
“But I’m gonna tell you something, Eleanor. When you come from a place like Atlanta, with its fancy restaurants and fancy people, and you say something is better than you’re used to, it sounds like you’re giving us a grade. Like we’re supposed to be grateful we passed your test.”
“That wasn’t my intention at all.”
“I know. But intention isn’t everything.” She picks up another dish. “Mavis understood that. I mean, she came from the same world you did, but she learned to leave it behind. She didn’t compare. She just joined in.”
