Clean

She parked outside, underneath the street light. The house was completely dark. She rolled down the window and debated over another cigarette. The smoke trailed up as the windshield fogged up.

She looked at herself in the rear view mirror. Her mascara was ruined, but it wasn't messy the way she thought it would be. She took a napkin from the dash and wetted the corner with her tongue. She rubbed hard against her eyelids, wincing a little before looking back in the mirror. It was better.

Wyatt's door opened. He stepped out in jeans and a t-shirt, staring at the car, deciding something before walking down the drive. She stubbed out the cigarette and practiced her smile as he came to the passenger side. He tapped on the door and she waved him into the car.

He got in beside her, looking worried. "I heard you pull up."

She wanted him to touch her, to touch her face. The tears were coming now, but she smiled at him. Wyatt never did things like that, even when they had been together. He waited as long as he could, watching and figuring everything out. She couldn't remember a single impulsive move. He was always steady, never jumping into anything head first.

"What's wrong?"

Her smile broke for a moment. She looked down and smiled up at him again. "You were right about me." He frowned. She was ruining this, too. A million times, he'd told her it didn't matter who was right. "I'm going into a program tomorrow."

She waited.

God. Why didn't he say something? She tried to read his face in the shadows and the glow of the streetlight. He looked down at his hands. "That's good. You'll do great."

She nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

What did she expect? Silent tears kept coming. She felt them rolling down her cheeks, but couldn't feel anything inside. He wouldn't take her back just because she was getting cleaned up. That's what she wanted, wasn't it? She wanted him to ask her in, to make love to her, to hold her until morning. She looked out the window at the pools of yellow light on the sidewalk.

"A residential program?"

She turned back to him. "Yeah."

"That's good." He moved his hands and she felt herself about to break. "How long?"

"It's open-ended. I had one evaluation already. After three months they'll do another one."

He swallowed and held his hands together. He wouldn't let himself touch her. She wanted out of her dirty skin, to be clean. Not for herself, but clean in his eyes. He had forgiven her too many times.

She almost choked on the words. "Are you seeing someone?" She knew he could see her heart breaking.

"No."

Somehow, the answer made her more sick. Hopelessness was easier than knowing he was free to love her and wouldn't. She exhaled the breath she didn't realize she had held in and wiped her nose on the napkin.

"Can you hold me?"

"I don't know." He closed his eyes. She was hurting him. She moved her head out of the light, wishing she could hide forever. He opened his eyes again and slid his arms around her. She put her head against his shoulder and kissed his neck. They stayed that way, quiet for a while.

"I love you."

She listened to him breathe. He didn't answer back.