Hutch had come so close to losing Starsky that the \u2018what if\u2019 hit him square in the gut. For a second, he stayed there on the doorstep wondering if this was all in his imagination, and Starsky, in truth, hadn\u2019t made it. How would Hutch have survived this year if Starsky had not come back to him?<\/p>\n
The door swung open and there was Starsky in a red shirt and reindeer antler antennae.<\/p>\n
The only thing Hutch saw was a brown leather coat, soaked in red, dripping red blood onto the pavement. Instead of antennae cupping Starsky\u2019s head, it was the wheel well of the Torino, pockmarked with bullet holes. \u201cStarsk,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n
The apartment walls faded to black and white. Hutch couldn\u2019t breathe. Starsky was a vision, gaunt, almost ghostly, halting time as Hutch stood and stared. Everything rushed back; the smashing squad cars, gunfire, echoing hospital corridors, beeping heart monitors, Dobey\u2019s scared voice over the phone, death.<\/p>\n
A haze of shock came over him, a flashback to May, blurring his view of Starsky.<\/p>\n
\u201cMerry Christmas, partner,\u201d Starsky sang, seemingly unaware of Hutch\u2019s anguish.<\/p>\n
Hutch glanced down at his empty hands. What a sonuvabitch he was.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on in. The eggnog will knock your socks off.\u201d Without even acknowledging Hutch\u2019s lack of gifts, Starsky took Hutch\u2019s arm, kicked the door closed, and dragged him into the kitchen. \u201cDobey stopped by with some cookies that Edith made. They taste like frosted cardboard.\u201d He stuck a cookie in Hutch\u2019s mouth. \u201cTry one!\u201d<\/p>\n
The aroma of cinnamon and pine filled the room like a bakery decked out in boughs of evergreen. A menorah sat in the window next to a festive plastic elf. Hutch spit the cookie into the trash. He only wanted to take in the sight of Starsky, who moved slowly but steadily around the table. The tree they\u2019d put up two weeks ago sparkled with ornaments that hadn\u2019t been there the day before, and the air was so warm Hutch wanted to touch his partner just to reassure himself that this was real.<\/p>\n
Starsky there by his side was the best gift of all.<\/p>\n
Hutch watched in awe as his friend busied himself with dishes, wiping the counter, sweeping up crumbs. Starsky hadn\u2019t moved this much in a long time and appeared ashen. Hutch got concerned. \u201cHey,\u201d he said, restraining Starsky by the shoulders. \u201cYou need to take it easy. Don\u2019t overdo it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d Starsky said, smiling. He quickly pulled away.<\/p>\n
Hutch noticed him flinch, his face awash with fear. That\u2019s when Hutch understood that Starsky was far from fine. Hutch had spent so much time thinking about his own frustrations and doubts that he\u2019d forgotten that this was Starsky\u2019s first Christmas since Gunther, too. \u201cBuddy,\u201d he started to say, angry with himself for being such a jerk. For being selfish, being thoughtless, being tired when all he\u2019d had to do was sit and observe while Starsky labored through his long process of mending. A process he wasn\u2019t done with yet.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow \u2018bout some music?\u201d Starsky said, leaving the kitchen to turn over the record.<\/p>\n
A second later, Jingle Bells rang out in direct opposition to Hutch\u2019s melancholy. He winced. When he looked around the corner to see why Starsky hadn\u2019t returned, he found him braced against the back of the couch, his head hanging.<\/p>\n
Hutch walked over and put his hand on Starsky\u2019s back, careful to avoid the still tender scars. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you sit down?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI told you,\u201d Starsky snapped. \u201cI\u2019m fine. Just terrific.\u201d<\/p>\n
Stroking gently, Hutch insisted, \u201cNo. You\u2019re not.\u201d<\/p>\n
Having depleted all his energy recuperating, Starsky barely ever had the might to argue anymore. He shook his head, still gazing at the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen, Starsk,\u201d Hutch said, taking a deep breath. \u201cI know what you\u2019re doing.\u201d He glanced at the decorations; the big present under the tree, the cheer, the merriment, all the other shit meant to make the two of them feel better. \u201cI appreciate the effort, truly, but we both know you ain\u2019t ready for the big leagues yet.\u201d He grinned, hoping Starsky could see his admiration.<\/p>\n
Because Hutch did admire his partner. There wasn\u2019t any other man who could make the strides Starsky had made and still find it within themselves to be jolly. Starsky\u2019s life had been shot out from under him, but he hadn\u2019t given up. He\u2019d even had courage enough to never, ever ask Hutch to go on without him. Begging for Christmas presents had been Starsky\u2019s way of giving Hutch normalcy in an otherwise debilitating world.<\/p>\n
Starsky\u2019s mouth tweaked up to one side. He slumped towards Hutch and Hutch grabbed him.<\/p>\n
\u201cC\u2019mere, buddy,\u201d Hutch said, drawing Starsky into an embrace. The bones in Starsky\u2019s shoulders were more apparent than before, and his muscle mass had diminished, but this didn\u2019t bother Hutch. It only meant there was less to get in the way of him feeling Starsky\u2019s heartbeat. That strong rhythm was the same as it had always been, maybe even stronger. He held his friend until he realized he was fully supporting Starsky\u2019s weight. \u201cLet\u2019s sit down,\u201d he said, leading him around to relax on the cushions with a blanket.<\/p>\n
As he bent over to adjust a pillow behind Starsky\u2019s arm, Hutch admitted, \u201cI didn\u2019t get you anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo I noticed,\u201d Starsky grumbled, rolling his eyes. \u201cGuess being blessed by your mere presence is my Christmas miracle. And here I thought I\u2019d been nice.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, no,\u201d Hutch said, pointing his finger into Starsky\u2019s face. \u201cYou have been exceedingly naughty. Let\u2019s talk about that day the doctor said you weren\u2019t ready to go out but you took your tomato to Merle\u2019s anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n
Starsky looked stunned. \u201cShe needed medical attention, too, you know, Hutch!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what about when you were supposed to eat your Jell-o and you dumped it in your bed pan. Huh?\u201d Hutch frowned, his stomach roiling with the memory of that hospital food. How many cups of Jell-o had Starsky consumed before finally waging mutiny?<\/p>\n
Starsky sighed.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t forget that night the nurse was trying to check your catheter.\u201d<\/p>\n
Grinning, Starsky nodded. \u201cOh, that\u2019s right.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hutch joined Starsky on the soft seat and leaned in close. He needed intimacy, to feel Starsky\u2019s vibrancy next to him, to smell his aftershave, overpowering as it was, and to share the same space. In the whole wide world, this was the only place to be. \u201cThank you,\u201d he mumbled.<\/p>\n
Starsky eyed him suspiciously. \u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
Shyness crept in, which made Hutch turn away. He didn\u2019t understand his own hesitation, because this was Starsky\u2026his partner\u2026his best friend\u2026his everything. He remembered that day in the hospital when Starsky first opened his eyes. Those dark lashes nearly swallowing up the blue in a tiny smile so bright it could light their way through any tunnel no matter how dark. Hutch needed to see that brightness in Starsky\u2019s eyes right now. He looked up with only one thing to say. \u201cThank you for loving me,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n
Starsky held eye contact tightly, lingering in the moment as long as Hutch required.<\/p>\n
\u201cMerry Christmas,\u201d Hutch said quietly. He took Starsky\u2019s hand and patted it. \u201cBlitzkrieg.\u201d Starsky still had on his antlers.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, no,\u201d Starsky moaned. \u201cIt\u2019s Blitzen, you hum bug.\u201d He carefully pulled his hand away and gave Hutch a little punch in the arm. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you bring me some eggnog, since you\u2019re too cheap to buy your invalid partner a present.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not being very nice, Starsky.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Starsky said, rather disheartened. \u201cWell, then I\u2019ll just return the guitar I got you. I\u2019m sure Frank Zappa can cross your name off and write in someone else\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n
All at once, Hutch was twelve-years-old again, standing with his parents on their driveway in Duluth, snow falling around them, gaping in shock at his brand new dune buggy with a giant green bow. His best Christmas ever.<\/p>\n
Until now.<\/p>\n
Hutch glanced at that big present under Starsky\u2019s tree, choking back the tears that threatened to unmask his inner hysterical teenage girl. \u201cYou got me a Frank Zappa signed guitar?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, but since I\u2019m not being very nice\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Hutch jumped from the couch. \u201cWould you like some frosted cardboard with that eggnog?\u201d<\/p>\n
Starsky chuckled and snuggled under his blanket. \u201cThanks for loving me, too, Hutch.\u201d<\/p>\n
THE END<\/p>\n
Seven months. It had been seven months since Starsky\u2019s shooting and Hutch had given every ounce of himself to his partner\u2019s recovery. They were in an infinite tunnel, a continuous blind walk, hoping the trudge would eventually get them somewhere. … Continue reading ![\"HumBugAutograph\"](\"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/HumBugAutograph.png\")
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