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I thought June was beautiful when I first saw her.

It wasn’t until later, after I began to know her that I realized how beautiful she really was. I couldn’t handle it, I thought I could, but I was consumed with the thought that June would never really want to be with me.

So, I went to work, came back to the motel I was staying at every night, threw back a six pack, and waited for June to text me. Every night I thought, this will be the night the texts stop, or the night she says it’s over. But every night she engaged me with idle chit chat, or a rundown of her day. If I was really lucky, she’d ask to come see me.

The six packs became a six pack and a half, then a twelve pack.

Then one night, she unexpectedly showed up at my door. June was wearing a cute little sundress and a denim jacket. She had on green sneakers, and her hair was down. I couldn’t stop staring, she looked so unlike herself, but so naturally herself at the same time. At work she wore baggy black cargo pants, and obnoxious t-shirts, and work boots. Her hair wrapped in a bun wearing a backwards Yankee hat. When she visited me she would be wearing jeans and a t-shirt. On this night, she looked so feminine. She looked fragile.

And, it was this night I broke her.

Brett said we’d go to the county fair. I tried not to have my heart set on it happening, because we were seeing each other in secret. I was going through a divorce, and we worked together. He didn’t want to be public, for privacy sake. I thought he was a fool, because anyone who saw us interact, even the most mundane, could see we were together. There were other couples at work that were public, they didn’t seem too harassed. But, I liked him, and he was new to the restaurant, but not new to the business, so I felt he knew best.

So, I was excited this was going to be a real date. Other nights we would usually get a quick bite to eat at the sports pub around the corner, then go back to his motel. I had started staying overnight, once a week or so. It was so different falling asleep next to him compared to my soon to be ex husband. I enjoyed waking up next to him, even if it was 3 in the morning and I had to go into work. I felt so safe next to him.

After twenty five years of marriage, I felt it had to be impossible for me to meet my soulmate, right out the gate. But the day I met him was surreal. I had been working in the kitchen by myself, my chef was working in his office. I heard the back door open, and didn’t think anything of it, until the electricity in the kitchen changed. I heard muffled voices from the chef’s office, then a booming laugh. I cursed whoever it was that had disturded my peace.

The mornings were mine, my chef didn’t come in until 10am, and the sous chef didn;t come in until 2pm, and the rest of the staff followed shortly after.

Moments later Brett walked around the corner. I was completely overwhelmed, by everything and nothing. He was not unusual looking. My height, maybe an inch taller, average build. He was wearing black pants, and a white chef coat. He had short, but not too short rusty brown hair, and a matching goatee. He had beautiful brown eyes.

He spoke to me, but I heard nothing except his thick New York accent. I was immediately insecure about my own New York accent, that only comes out when I’m talking to other New Yorkers. I stammered, and he ignored me, and went about his business.

But I was flustered at that moment and for the rest of that day, in fact I basically stayed that way. Even standing outside his motel room wearing a black sundress with little flowers, and my green Converse low top sneakers. I felt so girlie, I wondered if Brett seeing me dressed this way would change anything.

When June showed up, I was already 3, maybe 5 beers in. I was buzzed, headed towards being completely fucked up. Seeing her sobered me a little bit, but not much. I opened the door with a beer in my hand. I could see she was surprised. I was surprised, the playing field was level. I invited her in, and she flopped down on the ottoman.

I sat in the chair, straddling the ottoman. I could smell June’s shampoo, and reached out to touch the wave of auburn hair falling down her back. I twirled it around my finger a moment.

She turned and asked me if I managed to get my hair cut that afternoon.

I had not, and answered in an annoyed tone. I wondered silently why she cared.

Her demeanor seemed to change. I told her I needed to eat something, she suggested we get something at the fair. I told her I couldn’t wait. I suggested we get a pizza across the street. I slipped into my chef clogs and headed for the door, beer still in my hand.