December 10th- Undying Love by Sam KW (Part 2)

Click here to read Part 1

October, 1979. Baymont Center for Physical Therapy

“Your friend isn’t staying today?” asked Kevin, Starsky’s physical therapist, while escorting Starsky to the therapy room.

Hutch had to go to work early this morning. Huggy had taken over the after-session driving duties. “My friend?”

“Yes. The tall blond one,” Kevin said closing the door behind him.

Starsky unbuttoned his shirt. He liked the peaceful white marble-like texture of the rooms in the Center. It calmed his nerves and gave him a sense of familiarity. He had been to a place like this, he was sure, but had no recollection where. “Nah. He’s not my friend,” Starsky said, lying down on the crisp clean sheets of the massage table.

Kevin looked surprised “No?”

“No.” Starsky grinned. “He’s the rest of me. The better half, but don’t tell Hutch that.”

Kevin laughed. “I don’t know about the better part, but he watches over you like a hawk. I can remember when you were first brought to this place. He questioned–”

“I think the word you are looking for is interrogated, ” said Starsky, remembering Hutch’s grueling questions directed towards the therapists and doctors in charge of Starsky’s rehabilitation. He wanted to know each and every detail of various therapies, exercises, and massages that had been prescribed for Starsky.

“He cares about you a lot. Doesn’t he?”

“We’ve known each other a long time. Been through some rough times together.” Starsky swallowed hard, thinking of the close calls they’d had, remembering how Hutch always came through whenever Starsky was in trouble. “I’m lucky to have him.” He choked up on his words.

“He said the same about you.” Kevin placed the heated pads on Starsky’s chest. “Said you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“He’s a big softie.” Starsky smiled.

“I don’t think anyone around here would agree with you.” Kevin laughed. “And I’m glad he didn’t stay around for today’s session.”

“Why’s that?” asked Starsky.

“We’re starting a new therapy today. A neuro-fascial massage. This will remove adhesions and tension within your muscles. You’ll move better after this because right now your motions are restricted by some of the scar tissue,” Kevin explained.

“So… this will break up the scar tissue?”

“No. Not really. But it’d help a lot. And we’ll get into ART later, to break up those scars.”

“ART?”

“Active Release Treatment. I’ll explain later, but for the next three weeks, we’ll concentrate on this deep tissue massage.”

“Sounds good to me. So why didn’t you want Hutch around?”

“Even though I’m your therapist, he would want to kill me for hurting you,” said Kevin. “And don’t take this lightly, David. This will hurt, a lot more than other days.”

It was as if Starsky had to re-live the shooting all over again, but in a different way. “Feels like you’ve used me for a punching bag,” Starsky gasped, sweat trickling down his face.

“It’ll be worse tomorrow. But after that… you’ll start feeling a big difference. The pain will lessen with each session. No pain. No gain.”

“No shit!” Breathing hurt as well. “I think you’re some kind of sadist,” Starsky muttered.

Kevin chuckled. “Told you it’d hurt.”

“This is nothing,” Starsky said, sitting up and buttoning up his shirt. “This is nothing compared to what Hutch had to–” Starsky stopped. He was sure he had spoken those exact same words somewhere, sometime, not that long ago.

Oh, God! The room… the white marble-like room.

“David?” Kevin asked, touching Starsky’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? David– talk to me,”

“I’m okay,” gasped Starsky. “I’m all right. It’s something else. I–” It was like deja vu.

“Do you want me to call Hutch?” Kevin took Starsky’s pulse. “You’re shaking.”

“Just gimme a second.” Starsky closed his eyes tightly and hung his head, allowing himself to get his composure. It wasn’t a dream at all. He had experienced something extraordinary while suspended somewhere between life and death.

He had come back to this life… for Hutch and himself, because it hurt to be away from Hutch. There was no moving on without his partner.

He had also gotten the wish of a lifetime!

Starsky looked up at Kevin, feeling lighter, happier, and hopeful of the future.

The pain was too much to bear, but Starsky didn’t want to take any pain killers. He was sick of them. He walked around the house looking for small things to do, to keep his mind off of what he’d endured today. Starsky placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, folded yesterday’s laundry, and wiped the soap and toothpaste stains off the bathroom mirror. Hutch always left a ton of spots on it. How he managed to do that, Starsky had no idea!

Recovery was a bitch, but Starsky would go through this agony over and over again, if his continuing recovery kept Hutch smiling.

God!

He had done it for Hutch.

One of the bulbs in his living room chandelier had burnt out a few days ago. Starsky found their stash of extra bulbs in the storage closet and got busy replacing it. A simple task that once took just a minute now demanded ten minutes or so of his time.

Starsky listened to the all too familiar car engine sputtering to a stop and a door slamming closed. Moments after, heavy footsteps ran quickly up the stairs outside.

The front door opened. “Starsky– get the hell down!”

“What?” Starsky asked, looking at Hutch who stood staring at him from two feet away. “What do you mean get down? I just climbed onto the chair here to fix the bulb.”

“I could’ve done it.”

“Of course you can.” Starsky tightened the bulb in place, wiped the fingerprints off the glass surface with a rag, and stepped off the chair, instead of jumping off. Not that he could’ve accomplished something like that, anyway, but Hutch would’ve had a fit if he even attempted such a thing. According to Hutch, Starsky could shatter into millions of pieces if he took one step in the wrong direction.

“I wasn’t on a roof or a ladder or a two legged stool, ya know,” Starsky said, walking over to Hutch. He cupped Hutch’s face between his palms and looked into his eyes. He smiled, hoping it would mask the fiery pain that consumed his body. “I’m not gonna break, Hutch.”

“What stool?” Hutch asked, squinting his eyes.

“Exactly.” Starsky smacked a kiss on Hutch’s forehead. “How come you’re home at this time– it’s not even one o’clock yet.”

“What happened during therapy?” Hutch asked, holding Starsky’s hands against his face, tightly. “You look terrible, Starsk. What happened?”

Huggy! Starsky had given specific instructions to Huggy on what he should tell Hutch about Starsky’s condition, because Starsky knew Hutch was gonna call Huggy as soon as he dropped Starsky back at his apartment. Apparently, Huggy had not abided by Starsky’s rules.

“You’re sweating,” Hutch said, touching Starsky’s face with one hand while still maintaining his hold on Starsky’s hand with the other. Hutch tilted his head slightly, cupping Starsky’s cheek and chin with his palm. He pleaded with his eyes for Starsky to not lie to him.

“I’m all right.” Starsky sighed. There was no point hiding anything. Hutch would only get more worried. “It was a new kind of deep tissue massage.”

Hutch didn’t seem to believe Starsky. He brushed his arm over Starsky’s neck and chest, and stopped at the opening of Starsky’s white cotton shirt. He tugged at the button, his eyes asking a different question now.

Starsky nodded.

Hutch gently undid Starsky’s shirt buttons, one by one.

Their lives had changed so much during the past couple of months. He and Hutch were always close. Very close. But now… it was a whole new level of tenderness in their relationship. They had never openly talked about what was to be done or how things were to be done. Everything just took its course, and he and Hutch did what came naturally.

“God!” Hutch gasped, running his fingers along the surgical scars. Starsky watched the emotions playing across Hutch’s face. He wanted to absorb all of Starsky’s pain.

“Hey,” Starsky said, clutching Hutch’s palm and holding it firmly. “Look at me.”

Hutch inhaled deeply and exhaled shakily. “Your chest is too warm, Starsk. And all red, like– like blood red. ”

“Told ya, Hutch, they started a new therapy.”

“Why don’t you lie down? Why are you running around fixing bulbs?”

“I’m all right. Shouldn’t you be at work, huh? Aren’t you supposed to work a full day today?”

“It’s my lunch time.”

“Since when did Cap’n Dobey allowed extended lunch breaks?”

“I should’ve gone with you.” Hutch hung his head and slumped his shoulders dejectedly. “I should’ve been with you today.”

“You can’t be in two places at the same time, Hutch. Besides, there’s nothing you could’ve done, anyway.”

“You’re in pain. Don’t try to hide it from me, Starsk.” Hutch’s eyes flickered with worry and guilt. “I should’ve been with you and brought you home myself.”

“And kiss and make me feel better?” Starsky asked, brushing his knuckles against Hutch’s cheeks. “For how long are you gonna keep up this I should’ve-would’ve-could’ve routine? Don’t you think it’s time to let go?”

“I can’t do this anymore, Starsk,” Hutch’s bottom lip quivered and his voice faltered. “I can’t live like this thinking that something will happen while I’m away and you’ll be gone forever.”

Starsky pulled Hutch closer in a hug as Hutch wrapped his arms around him and buried his head against Starsky’s shoulders, choking on a sob.

Starsky maneuvered both of them onto the couch, knowing he would not be able to support Hutch’s full weight standing upright. Hutch shook convulsively and gave away to sobs. Starsky held him, swallowing back his own emotions crawling up his throat. He wasn’t strong enough physically yet, but Starsky had better control over his emotions than Hutch. Right now, he had to be the stronger one, allowing Hutch to breakdown and wash away his sorrows. Starsky had witnessed the pain and fear behind Hutch’s eyes; he’d heard the pained breaths and gasps Hutch let out when he thought no one was listening. Starsky always knew what was playing behind the brave and strong front Hutch was putting on display for everyone. In reality, day by day, Hutch was disintegrating and falling apart.

Starsky sighed deeply, knowing there was nothing he could say without making Hutch more agitated. “I’m not going anywhere, Hutch,” Starsky promised.

Hutch shook his head. “You can’t promise me that, Starsk. No one can.”

But Starsky could!

Starsky just had to find the right words and the right time to say them. For now, Starsky allowed Hutch to cry his heart out, holding Hutch’s grief to his own as Hutch exhaled his pain in miserable gusts.

To be continued…

Click here to read Part 3.