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Heidi was washing Cartman's jacket in the old washing machine in her basement.
The light bulb flickered, flashing briefly.
She vigorously scrubbed at the ketchup stain that refused to go away.
"Always in the same place," he muttered, scrubbing with the brush until his knuckles, white from exertion, burned.
Frowning, he glanced at Cartman, who was lying face down.
—How can you always make so much mess in the same place?
Cartman didn't even look up.
He shrugged indifferently, concentrating more on the messages coming into his screen than on it.
—You use a good detergent —she said. —I know you can get out a simple stain.
That was the last conversation they had that day.
When he finally managed to remove that hideous stain, he waited for the rinse cycle to finish.
Folding the garment carefully, she handed it to Cartman, who took it from her hands without saying thank you.
—I like this smell. Don't change that detergent. —he commented and went up the stairs without looking back.
I had expected a kiss as a reward.
She exhaled sharply and headed to her room.
On her phone, she had a message from Wendy inviting her to go makeup shopping with her.
He accepted.
Another message arrived:
—All right, babe! I'll pick you up in five.
She looked at herself in the full-length mirror.
Her clothes were still a little damp, but she convinced herself she was okay to go out.
The car horn pulled her out of her reverie.
She grabbed her purse and left.
She'd take advantage of the opportunity to buy more detergent...
No.
No and no.
I still had more than one bag.
I wouldn't.
I wouldn't buy any more.
He greeted Wendy with a kiss on the cheek as she got into the car.
She knew she was making the passenger seat wet, but if that bothered her friend, she was good at hiding her anger.
As they talked, she told herself that when she got to Whole Foods Market, she would focus only on her makeup.
But the thought of the stain crept back into his mind like an insistent echo, and the first thing he did upon entering was head for the detergent aisle.
He knew he'd promised Wendy he'd go with her. He felt guilty, but what was done was done.
Cartman had told him not to change brands, and he didn't want to... But it got to the point where smelling the same old thing was starting to irritate her.
As he wandered, he didn't notice that Wendy was already beside him.
—Oh really?
—The one I have at home is running out.
He lied.
He heard a snort of annoyance.
He knew Wendy wasn't buying the excuse.
—Last time you bought two bags.
—I have a lot of clothes to wash —river.
False.
It was all for him.
Wendy knew it.
And the way he bit his lip, as if hiding something, only irritated her more.
Cartman always came home drunk in the early morning.
How he managed to climb into his room in that state was a mystery he stopped questioning long ago.
I immediately detected the aroma of cheap beer... and lies.
—You know, Mom never washes my jacket as well as you do. —he said to her one night, settling onto her shoulder.
She closed her eyes.
Cartman only kissed her if he was drunk.
The taste of his lips was rancid, with a hint of desperation, as if he were trying to convince himself of something while kissing her.
He always murmured "Kyle" into her neck.
Never her name.
She wasn't stupid.
She knew it.
She always knew it.
But if I pretended not to hear, maybe… just maybe… that washing machine would keep working.
I wanted to break the cycle.
I couldn't go on like this.
She called him on a Thursday afternoon.
She knew she wouldn't get anywhere with him, but still, in a fit of rage, she threw the dirty jacket into the washing machine, without removing the stain.
He put in too much detergent.
The engine squealed as if it were secretly sobbing.
—Am I not enough for you, Eric?
She heard him laugh out loud.
His cheeks were red, and she couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or anger.
For the first time, Cartman looked at her.
For the first time, she felt… noticed.
For a moment, she forgot the washing machine was on its last legs.
She didn't want it to stop.
She wanted it to keep spinning, even if it broke with her inside.
—You use a nice detergent. Feel flattered that I considered you my favorite person, but Khal has a good handle.
She froze.
She didn't know when he had left.
She couldn't tell if that noise was from the washing machine... or from her heart, broken.
His eyes burned, but he didn't cry.
He didn't care if the machine exploded, leaving the walls covered in soap tears.
She hadn't heard from Cartman since that afternoon.
Liane arrived home to pick up the jacket, the one she kept and wore when she was cold.
It pained her to give it up.
Her parents asked about him.
She lied.
A white lie.
During dinner he pretended to be normal, but he knew they weren't stupid.
The weather in South Park was 57°F. She stood by the window, wrapped in a blanket, holding a mug of hot chocolate, watching the snowflakes fall.
He knew the broken washing machine was groaning like a wounded heart.
As he was about to leave, he saw a red stain in the distance.
His mood immediately changed.
He convinced himself he wanted to fix things.
He went to put on his sandals… but stopped.
Cartman walked hand in hand with Kyle.
They walked past her house without looking at her, unaware that she was watching them from the window.
Kyle was wearing the jacket.
They looked so happy.
They are happy.
She could only stay still, crying silently.
“Why not me?” he repeated to himself, his face red and his lips trembling.
I knew the washing machine was still humming from the basement.
But for the first time… I didn't want to listen to her.
He said that next time he would use bleach instead of detergent..