A dose of reality

My trip to Boston this weekend was filled with fun memories, good food and plenty of drinks, many of which would be fun to blog about. But the one thing that will resonate with me is being a witness to a domestic attack.

It was about 4 p.m. Boston time when my friend Sam and I were wandering through downtown, trying to find a restaurant called Dick's Last Resort. We stumble upon a couple who are having a livid argument. Since it wasn't any of our business, we walk past them. Then I hear a disturbing sound.

*SMACK*

We stop in our tracks. A woman down the street comes running, yelling “Stop!” while her mother follows. I turn around and see the couple in a struggle. Apparently the boyfriend hit his girlfriend.

“Oh, boy,” Sam said quietly under his breath.

Unsure of what to do, I open up my cell phone and approach the couple. The boyfriend sees me and backs away from her. The other woman comes running in with her cell phone out, saying, “I'm going to call the cops!”

The girlfriend runs in front of her boyfriend, desperately trying to convince her to not call the police. As Sam and I walk in closer, the boyfriend takes off running. The girl tries to chase after him, but the woman grabs her hand.

All of a sudden, we were in an impromptu intervention session.

But whatever we try to tell her, she wouldn't listen. It was the first time he's ever hit her, she says. He's the father of her baby, she says.

She loves him, she says.

I'm sure it wasn't the first time he's ever hit her, and it won't be the last. But convincing someone who doesn't want to be convinced, especially when it's a stranger, is near impossible.

The girl bolts across the street to search for her boyfriend. The four of us stand in silence, disappointed and sad.

It's a day later and I've had a night to sleep on it. I wonder if I should have done more to help her. I wonder if I could've done more to help her.

The boyfriend was smaller than me, and I'm pretty sure I could have overpowered him and held him down before the police arrived. But what if he pulled a knife on me, what would I do then?

I've run through dozens of scenarios in my head, but nothing makes much sense to me.