When I was in college my then boyfriend’s brother [try to keep up] had a lovely girlfriend. She was a delightful person. Everybody loved her. My own mother was a good friend of lovely gf’s mother and she loved her too. My sister was in lovely gf’s sister’s class in school and she loved her. I didn’t dislike lovely gf,- how could I, she was lovely? – but I did mildly resent the way she was utterly perfect. She got her boyfriend’s parents [also my boyfriend’s parents, if you see what I mean] an orange tree for Christmas. Who buys presents for a boyfriend’s parents? Not me, alas.
As I went in and out of the hospital over the weekend visiting my poor mother, a big shiny board with names engraved in golden letters caught my eye. It was a list of interns of the year and alongside it winners of a medal for youthful brilliance. Who was on the list of interns of the year? Lovely gf, that’s who. Who was the only intern featured on the list who also won the gold medal for being brilliant at medicine and lovely [possibly not actual title]? Oh yes indeed, the lovely gf. I’m not jealous, no really, I’m not. It’s just that she’s haunting me.
