Gemma's boyfriend

Mrs Levenson's Daughter and other stories #19

a market scene, by Terry Freedman

Just over the road from where my parents had their shop, in the market, the shop over the road had a stall in front. This was the province of Gemma, an attractive girl and pleasantly intelligent to talk to. I didn’t fancy her myself, but it wasn’t hard to see why plenty of fellas would.

Now here is what I could never understand, and all these years later I still can’t understand it. Why did she, and why do women in general, stay attached to someone who clearly loved himself more than he loved her?

Her boyfriend was posssessive to the point of insanity. She mentioned to him once that I had smiled at her. He glared at me with a ferocity I have rarely seen. It didn’t bother me — I think I can probably look after myself if the situation arose — but it was deeply unpleasant.

Her parents virtually begged her to ditch him, which, if my attitude is anything to go by, was probably the worst thing they could have done. They’d have been better off saying how much they liked him, and with any luck that would have put her off.

Their hearts were in the right place. After all, if a man is that possessive towards his girlfriend when he has no claim on her in any legal sense, can you imagine what he would be like if she married him?

I have no idea if that happened. I sincerely hope not. There is very little that is more depressing than seeing a free-thinking person reduced to a shadow of their former selves.

Not quite the same (or perhaps it is), but I recall once the girl next to me in a hairdresser’s in virtually a cold sweat over what her boyfriend would do when he found out she had spent some money on herself.

Dreadful. Just dreadful.

This is something of an experiment. Short pieces, published at random, all linked by the fact that they took place in or around a street market. Your comments would be most welcome.