The walk in the slush with Muffin did nothing to alleviate my fears. She did look tired, and somehow sagging at the corners, and only vaguely resembled the energetic, joyful Muffin I was used to. Her vivacity was all wrong and sounded so fake it was heartbreaking. How did I not notice it before?
That was not the worst… When I timidly asked how she was really doing, because I thought she looked exhausted and tense, she burst out in tears, and here I was, in a slushy park, soothing a wailing hamster and foraging my handbag for anything comforting.
Now, I have this old trick where I take random objects out of my handbag until I find something suitable, which usually works very well, because it is difficult to stay in the throes of despair while watching me juggle with (for example) a porcelain teacup, pliers, a collection of shiny rocks and a jar of pickles, as I’m muttering “Careful, it’s fragile – oh, I was wondering where I’d put those! – look!! a shiny rock! – hurh that’s definitely not mine”. By the time I get to tissues and biscuits, the other person has quite forgotten what he or she was crying about and is, more often than not, eyeing me doubtfully and asking pressing questions like “Blue, why do you carry a hammer?” or “Isn’t that MY Lego XWing?”.
It had no effect whatsoever on Muffin. Worse, when I got to the biscuits and offered her a very nice cookie in a rather good condition (considering), she… I blush to say it, really, as inconceivable as it is… but she yelled at me!!!
“How DARE you to give me SUGAR!!! When you KNOW it’s SO difficult for me to stop!”
I paled and blubbered a hasty apology. That’s the risk when you express your affection by giving food, sometimes you’re likely to make a terrible faux-pas like this one.
She took the proffered tissue, though, and sobbed even more, while I silently ate the cookie in atonement for my tragic error.
“It’s been more than 30 days, I’m almost at the end of the second program now, and I’m following EVERYTHING the wolf says, and it’s so difficult, and I’m still nowhere close to the beautiful girls at the gym and they are trying to support me but sometimes I think they laugh at me and take ugly pictures of me and say I’m fat and I feel like a cow (yes Blue, I know cows are beautiful animals shut up) also I’m soooooo tired and I have no energy and I get angry so quickly and it’s so difficult for Jimmy and I KNOW I’m not getting any better at anything and I hate it all so much…”
There she paused to take a deep, shaky breath and went straight on.
“And it’s his birthday this week end and I didn’t organize anything and I’ve already exceeded my weekly calorie budget no wonder I’m still a FAAaaat cow (yes I know Blue I’m a beautiful hamster shut up) and I really wish I could eat that cookie.”
At that point, she went back to sobbing. I carefully omitted to point out that she couldn’t eat that cookie anymore, as I had finished it, and instead offered my help to organize Jimmy’s birthday, promising to bake a very healthy cake so that she could eat some. Then we went slowly back home through the March slush, each immersed in our own deep, sad thoughts.