SandScript 2020

We Expect the Coming Rains
FICTION
Christine Early
The dulcet ring of the service bell alerted Joey to the presence of a car in the lot of
the service station his father owned. It was past eight pm now and very few people
ventured this far to the outskirts of town at this time of night. Brushing his greasy hands onto
the front of his coveralls, he peeked his head out of the small office in the station and peered
through the front window. The light from the station made it a little distance into the lot, just
this side of the pumps, but Joey was just able to make out a white Chevy parked outside. Lisa’s
Chevy.
Pushing through the front door, Joey wiped his brow where sweat had quickly
accumulated. He reckoned it was about 80 degrees outside. Not too hot, but sticky. It didn’t
often get humid in this part of Arizona, but July brought heat, and with it, wicked monsoons
that ravaged the valley and made the air thick.
Lisa was leaning against the outside wall of the station, barely illuminated by the little
bit of light that made it outside, lazily smoking a cigarette. “You didn’t have to come out all this
way to see me tonight, Lisa,” Joey said, leaning in to kiss her. As he did so, Lisa turned her head
and Joey’s lips fell solidly against her cheek. “Lisa—”
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