Hunger

January

January was a tough month to get through every year. There was the post Christmas blues, the very dark days, with only a few hours of daylight, and the bank account that still bled from buying Christmas presents. Frankie had spent Christmas in Wigan with her parents, and the immediate family. 

She had arrived the day before Christmas Eve, and her dad picked her up at the train station. His face lit up when he spotted her. "There's my girl!" He exclaimed and pinched her cheeks. He smelled like dad; a comforting smell of cologne and home. There was no doubt that she had always been a daddy's girl. It had always been the two of them against mum. They were equally scared of her moods, so they would try to weather through the storms together.

On their way home they discussed what to get for dinner. Frankie was sceptical that mum hadn't planned something, but dad was sure she hadn't been doing anything in the kitchen.

"How about a curry from down the street?" Dad suggested as he drove through town.

Frankie shrugged. "I don't mind, you pick," she smiled at her dad and genuinely didn't feel like picking dinner. She would eat whatever they were in the mood for.

"I suppose we could give mum a call and ask her?" Dad suggested and offered Frankie his phone. She smiled and shook her own phone in front of him. Then she called her mum. There was no reply.

"She didn't pick up," she said and put her phone down.

Dad seemed confused that she wasn't answering, so he decided it might be best if they went home first to check. 

***

When they arrived at the house, mum was in the middle of cooking. She heard them come in the door and came out, a huge smile on her face, as she held her arms out to hug Frankie.

"Hey mum," Frankie stepped into her mum's embrace.

"Darling, so happy you're here," Mum said and helped her hang her coat.

There was a distinctive smell in the house. The smell of boiled cabbage. Frankie knew that could only mean one thing; mum was cooking vegetable soup.

"I'm making vegetable soup for you. I know you love it. And with all the fatty foods Christmas always comes with, I'm sure you want something lighter these days." Mum smiled, probably feeling very proud of herself for being so considerate towards Frankie.

In a way it was considerate, Frankie genuinely believed there was consideration behind her mum's logic. But she hadn't even been in the house for more than five minutes, and the focus was on what she ate. Frankie's own focus was on learning to deal with food, and why she struggled with over- and undereating. She hadn't used words like diet or fasting for years. Instead she tried to focus on eating right, and not labelling anything as being off limits.

She locked eyes with her dad, who looked absolutely gutted at the outlook to vegetable soup instead of a curry from the local Indian restaurant. Frankie couldn't help but feel bad for her dad. She wondered what they would have had if she hadn't been visiting. Something told her they would have had a curry, because dad was so snowed in on it. It was probably their Friday tradition, and now it was ruined, because Frankie was overweight and had to eat vegetable soup. It must have shown on her face, that she was feeling overwhelmed, because her dad squeezed her shoulder, and smiled at her.

"Let's go eat some soup, love." Dad said and showed her into the kitchen.

***

Her mum was stressed about Christmas dinner, and she was all over the house, like a cleaning tornado. Frankie did her best to help, but in 7 out of 10 attempts, her mum ended up asking her to find something else to do. Sometimes her mum would drive her nuts with her martyrdom complex. Her dad had created an escape route for himself years back, and he would disappear down to the pub when mum started the hoover. Frankie cursed herself for not following him down there. A pint and the noise of some random football match, had been a delight compared to mum hoovering aggressively, bumping into whatever was in her way. Frankie included.