"You look familiar. Do I know you from some place?"

I just looked at her and shrugged as she put the beer down in front of me. She gave me a quizzical look and then turned and went back down the bar to take care of the other customers. It was not surprising that she didn't recognize me; a full beard, Lasik surgery, twenty-five pound weight loss and different style clothes. The last time she had seen me I had a buzz cut, wore thick rimmed glasses, was over weight and dressed as a rising young businessman was supposed to. My voice would have given me away which is why I only shrugged when she brought me my beer and spoke to me. She had not changed a bit. Tall, athletic, hair still down to the middle of her back, a nice tight ass and a walk that would make a strong man cry. She looked just as she had the last time I had seen her.

She had come in the front door and had almost tripped over the suitcases stacked in the hallway. I was coming down the front stairs with two boxes in my arms and she looked up at me and said, "What's all this?"

"This" I said, putting as much sarcasm as I could muster into the word, "Is all my worldly goods."

She stared at me and said, "And why are all of your worldly goods in the hall by the front door?"

I set the boxes I was carrying down on the floor and said, "They are there because the truck that is going to haul them away isn't here yet."

I headed back up the stairs for another load and she said to my back, "Damn it! Stop avoiding the question. What the fuck is going on?"

I turned to face her, "It is really quite simple. I'm leaving your sorry unfaithful ass," and I turned and went up the stairs.

She was right behind me and burst into the room saying, "And just what in the hell does that mean?"

I laughed and said, "It means that I have no interest in living with a slut. I do not choose to live with some one who is spending her free time fucking every man she can get her hands on."

"That's bullshit!" she said and I turned and pointed my finger at her.

"Don't give me any of that innocent outrage. I've spent the last two weeks following you while you thought I was at work. I can give you the names of everyone you saw and the times you saw them and the places where you met them."

She started crying then and went on the offensive; "Well what did you expect me to do. I'm young and healthy and you haven't touched me in almost three months. Your precious fucking career means more to you than I do. You work twelve, fourteen hours a day and then come home and tell me you are too tired and I'm supposed to say, "Yes dear, I understand. Just go on up to bed, get your rest, don't mind me, I'll just sit here on the couch and finger fuck myself." Well fuck that shit. You shouldn't have gotten me started on having regular sex if you were going to stop providing it. If you had taken care of business, like you were supposed to, I wouldn't have had to leave the house, now would I?"

I ignored her and continued to pack the box in front of me.

"Don't ignore me, damn you! Say something, talk to me, we can work this out. Baby, I love you. Those other guys meant nothing to me. They were just dicks to satisfy my need for sex. You're the one I love, you know that."

I turned around and faced her, "I'll tell you what I know. I know that you did the one thing that I can never forgive you for. You have known me since the fifth grade and you know there is one person in the world that I hate with every fiber of my being. I have hated him since the third grade and you know it. You know how I found out about your extra curricular activities? I found out because George Wilson is out there bragging about how he has been fucking my wife. No, I thought, not George. Even if she were having an affair it wouldn't be with George, never with George. But you did, you fucked my worst enemy and you can't fucking deny it, because I heard him describe your shaved cunt and your rose tattoo and the only way he could have known about that is because he was there. Now do me a favor and get out of my sight until I'm gone."

That was a year and a half ago. I left, served her with divorce papers, and got on with my life.

Except I really didn't get on with my life. Oh, my career prospered; I met and bedded a succession of lovely ladies and even got emotionally attached to a couple, but I was never able to go the extra step needed to make marriage a possibility. There was something missing in my life, an emptiness that I just couldn't seem to fill. One day, while getting ready to move to a new apartment, I was going through boxes of stuff, determined to throw away half of the junk I'd accumulated and never used. I found a shoe box full of old photos and I began to go through them. They were all of me and June; me pushing June on the swing at the park when we were in the sixth grade, me and June at the Junior Prom, the two of us at the lake. I stared at that one and remembered that I'd taken it on the day she had given me her virginity and I had given her mine. There were photos of the Senior Prom, high school graduation, several from our days at college, a couple taken at our wedding reception, and a few from our honeymoon. Me and June, June and me and suddenly there was a tear in my eye as I remembered how much I loved her - not had loved her, but loved her. I knew what was missing in my life, what I had known all along, but wouldn't admit to myself - June.

It took me a long time to get up the nerve to go looking for her. I found out that she had never remarried, and that she'd kept the house that I'd given her in the divorce settlement. She had no steady boyfriend, but she did take an occasional lover. She had done well as a topless dancer at one of the local night spots, but had given it up to tend bar at one of the local lounges and so that is where I finally got the courage to go. I sat at the end of the bar and watched as she flirted with the customers and thought about how stupid I had been. She had been right about my ignoring her in my desire to climb the corporate ladder and I, of all people, knew of her strong sexual urges and desires, so what did I expect her to do? If it hadn't been for George Wilson we could have worked it out. How could I have let my hatred of Wilson overcome my love for June? Stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought. My thoughts were interrupted by a beer being placed in front of me. I looked up from the cocktail napkin I had been systematically shredding and saw June looking at me.

"You have been watching me all night. We do know each other, don't we?" I nodded my head yes and she said, "From where?" I just waved her away. "I'll figure it out before the night is over anyway. Why don't you just tell me and get it over with?"

I hesitated for a couple of seconds and then I said, "Because if I tell you, you might walk away."

The blood drained from her face and she said in a hoarse voice, "Bobby? Is that you?" and tears came to her eyes and she turned and ran to the other end of the bar and went into a door. A few minutes later a man came out and started waiting on the customers. When he got to me and asked me if I wanted another I told him no, "I'm through here."