The last time I saw rain, it was a Wednesday. I only remember because it was a Wednesday. Shit always happens on Wednesdays. I was in the line at the drive thru at Steak ‘n Shake on Davidson, stoned in the passenger seat and craving a cookies ‘n cream shake. Yeah, can you believe that? That was the last time I saw rain. I’ll tell ya, sometimes I don’t quite think I was cut out for the desert. Or maybe I just miss the rain because it reminds me of you. I must’ve asked you sixteen times if you were sober enough to drive, and I could tell you were getting sick of having to tell me you didn’t smoke with me. I didn’t care, though. Every few times you would answer the question you would start with “M, I already told you” and I just kept asking because I liked when you called me M. We sat in that damn drive thru for nearly an hour, and I swear a drive thru is the absolute worst place you could ever get stuck in because there’s no way out except through. Aside from the overwhelming urge to taste those sweet Oreo chunks, I didn’t mind the wait. I liked hanging out with you. I liked that I could get stoned with you and never get paranoid. I liked that even though I hated the rain, I actually didn’t mind it when I was with you. By the time we got to the front of the line, I could tell there was something you wanted to say to me but felt like you couldn’t. You ordered the milkshake and when the guy asked if there was anything else he could get for us, you just started fucking crying. I was confused as hell, and so was the guy on the intercom. You told him you were sorry, that yes, all we needed was the milkshake. I didn’t ask you why you were crying. Maybe I should have, I don’t know. Instead, I asked you to stop crying, you were killing my high, and all I wanted to think about right now was my milkshake, not whatever had you mixing the raindrops with your tears. Then you started laughing, and I got even more confused, and I didn’t know what to do so I started laughing, too. You stopped pretty abruptly and told me you were sorry about that. You passed me my milkshake from the guy in the window and said Hey, listen, I don’t really wanna get into it right now, but I’m gonna call you an Uber home, I’ll wait with you until it gets here so you don’t have to wait out in the rain. I was a little too caught up in my milkshake to really try to comprehend that, but I just said okay and went with it. The Uber got there, I kissed you goodbye, on the cheek because you turned, and I went home. I know you said you didn’t wanna get into it right now, but Christ, I didn’t think that meant never. I’ve never admitted this before, but sometimes I think that may be why I packed up and moved to the desert. ‘Cause it never rains here, and the last time I saw rain was the last time I saw you.
Lacey Cohen is an emerging gay, Jewish writer and hopeless romantic. She is currently working on her MFA at Long Island University, living in Brooklyn, NY and working as the Managing Editor at Defunct Magazine, but she is a true and proud Michigander at heart. Her work has been featured in Bending Genres, Full Mood Magazine, Punk Monk Magazine, and Terror House Magazine, among others. In her free time, Lacey loves to read, play guitar, and binge watch ~30-minute adult cartoons.
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