A Year In June: The Things She Could Never Say

             “Why did you decide to stay here?” Mina asked. Normally she tried not to pry, but this time she felt compelled to ask.

            June swirled her can of beer around like a glass of wine and thought for a split second before answering. “It’s because, I love you,” she said, surprising herself. Yet, she was sure these were the right words, her true sentiment. She swirled her can a few more times and inadvertently started to count the sustained silence in her head. She was cut off at seven when Mina responded.

             “Thank you,” her voice was breaking, “for those words and for staying here. I know it has been difficult to be with me these last few weeks. I will explain when I can. But I want you to know that you are--,” her voice strained dangerously as she tried to verbalize her conviction, “—you are precious to me.”

            “Zen zen, it’s not a problem at all.” June said, as she leaned back on the porch she and Mina had built. The night air was still a bit nippy this last day of May, but as she lay there, gazing at the moon that was slightly obstructed by Mina’s back, she couldn’t help but smile and feel that everything was finally just perfect.