Wishing Pearl

672

Hutch’s wish was a pure extract of the heart.

Post Sweet Revenge.

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Chapter One

Light from the outside world cascaded through the blue and green stained glass tiles. The room lit with a soft, turquoise glow. The silence here was profound; only the distant echoing of his heart ricocheted off the stain glass walls that enshrined the chapel. Clover and nutmeg spiced incense filled the air of the hospital chapel. Candles were lit and placed around the small room. The glass globe Hutch now found himself in was as delicate as the wing of a humming bird. He could feel the pressure as the glass that held him safe threatened to crack and spider web its way around the globe. Releasing him from its safety and sending him flooding out into the real world, where the battle between life and death lingered in the balance. He wanted to stay inside that glass globe, where his mind lofted through the shaken snow. Where the facets of his life were as he chose them to be. Where reality couldn’t penetrate his brain where he could pretend everything would be okay. But his mind wouldn’t allow that fog for long. The shelter of his glass globe had just been turned upside down and shaken violently mixing and stirring up the unwanted flurries of uncertainty, pain, fear, and that god-awful feeling of helplessness.

His eyes shut tight hoping to block out the light of the world, and tumble aimlessly through nothingness. The shock he was in didn’t last for long as visions seeped into the blackness coloring everything red. Red as an apple, scarlet red like the sun, Torino red, blood red, painted all around in streaks and streams of the cold, hard, naked truth. The vision burned like hot, molten lava. He tried to wade away from the truth but it was no use.

Starsky lay on the gurney; the ambulance screaming down the road. Hutch was grateful for the wail of the siren; it drowned out the painful wheezing and gurgling sounds that were coming from his partner’s strangled throat. He clutched Starsky’s hand so tight the blue veins in his own hand stood out like paths crisscrossing under his skin, paths which had gone chalk white with fear. He knew it was bad. Looking down at his partner he could still see the blood flowing from the bullet wounds. Soaking into the white-sheeted gurney. Soaking through his partner’s shirt and oozing between the fingers of his other hand. He wouldn’t remove that hand from his partner’s chest. Even when ordered to by Dobey or the paramedic. Hutch kept his hand pressed down on the wounds of his best friend. A God-like feeling washing over him. As if he were the Messiah himself. As if his touch were the only thing that would keep his friend alive. If he removed that hand, Starsky would surely slip away. So he kept one hand clutched to Starsky’s and the other plastered to the bloody chest. Then Hutch did something else. He lied. He lied to Dobey, he lied to the medics, and he lied to his partner, but most of all he lied to himself. “He’s fine; he’ll be fine. Just needs rest that’s all just some rest.” Dobey looked pathetically at the shocked, blond man, who normally was a pillar of strength, calm, collected and full of logic. Now turned to a basket case snowballing down the white-capped mountain and melting like a snowman in July. The medic who was desperately trying to find somewhere that he could start an IV and sop up some blood, looked at Hutch with pitying eyes of sorrow.

“Just needs rest is all. We’ll get you some rest buddy.”

Starsky woke only for a brief moment trying to speak words to Hutch. Trying to say good-bye. Hutch caught the word on a gagging breath. “No buddy. No, we don’t say goodbye. You’re going to be all right, Starsk. Just rest pal, rest is all you need; rest.” Hutch’s heart knew his words were lies knew his partner was bleeding to death before him but his brain refused to see. “Say it Starsk. Say it. You’re not going anywhere. Say the words partner Your…….. not………..going………..any……..where!!!!!!” Hutch enunciated each word slowly as he bent down low into Starsky’s face.

Blood drooled out his mouth as he choked but he managed to say. “N..ot g..oin…g.” He gave Hutch a crooked smile just before his eyes slipped shut.

That was four days ago. Hutch came to the chapel daily not sure why he was drawn there. Today he held tight to a dark, clam-shaped shell. The globe he’d been in was now shattered and lay at his feet. The lies now turned to truths. His friend his partner, his everything, lay dying. His body torn to shreds by bullets. The very things that so often had saved their lives. His eyes took on a far away glint, as his memories carried him away once more.

“Starsky, what the heck is this suppose to be?” Wrappings of paper lay on the floor. Hutch looked at the mollusk he now held in his hand.

“Happy birthday, Buddy.” Starsky squeezed the shoulder of his friend. “Wanted to get you something special. It’s a wish, Hutch.” Starsky sipped on his sudsy root beer float waiting for a reaction from his partner.

Hutch turned the shell over and over in his hand; it was sealed tight as a drum. “What the hell do I do with it, Gordo? Crack it open and dip it in butter?” Hutch smirked up at his partner, who was making a slurping noise as he had reached the bottom of his glass.

“It’s a wishing pearl, Blintz. Keep it till you want something so bad you can taste it.” Starsky licked the foamy float off his lips. “It’s got mystical powers. Legend has it, if you whisper a wish and hold it in your heart then open the shell you’ll find a pearl and your wish will come true.”

Hutch examined the abalone shell closer and a sly smile hit his lips. “Starsk, that’s beautiful. Thanks.”

Starsky gloated with pride. “Didn’t know what else to get ya.” He walked to the kitchen to put his glass in the sink. “Figured you could wish for your own present when you think of one.” He poked his head into the fridge and took out two bottles of beer. “Hey Hutch how about a brew?”

Hutch set the clam down on the coffee table. “Gordo, you just had a root beer float.”

“Want a beer now.” He popped both caps, handed one bottle to Hutch and taking a swig of his own. “Hey Hutch, just make sure you tell me when you make that wish okay?”

“Why’s that buddy?” Hutch took a swig of his own beer and grimaced at his rock gut partner.

Starsky shrugged. “Just in case it’s not really true. You know about the wishes and all. Want to make sure you get what you want for your birthday.”

With another swig of beer Hutch nodded. “You’ve got it partner.”

Hutch shivered as he glared at the shell. That had been eight months ago. He never in a million years thought he would be sitting in a hospital chapel holding the damn clam and actually contemplating a wish. It was a beautiful gesture on the part of his partner, but he never really gave it much thought after that. Till now. All other avenues were exhausted. Prayers seemed to go unanswered. Pleading on bended knee for hours only gave him leg cramps. Tears shed only stinging his already tired, burning eyes. There was nothing he could do. It was out of his hands and his partner’s life spiraled out of control. Hutch wasn’t used to not being able to rub away the pain, to erase the hurt, to save his life. He was not used to the helpless feeling that plagued him now.

Then the tiny shell came into his mind and he had run home digging through every drawer and closet; throwing socks and clean shirts around the room like a whirlwind. Finally finding the gift on a closet shelf in a shoebox. Funny how moments you remember are written in time. Passing seconds of life. Tiny little marks embossed on your brain. Only to arise at will at the oddest times so you can view them again. Maybe even act on them.

More shivering came over his whole body. He trembled with the fear of the unknown and of loss. I can’t lose you, Starsk. I’m not going to let you go. Hutch clinched his fist around the shell and raised it up shaking it in the air. “Damn it, do you hear me? I am not letting him go.” He bowed his head in shame at his outburst. “I can’t,” he whispered, with the voice of humble defeat.

Opening his fist he looked to his last and only hope. “Starsky, so help me, this thing better work.” Hutch chuckled a little as he could hear his friend’s words between slurps of his straw. Keep it till you want something so bad you can taste it. “Buddy, you’ll never know how bad I want this.” One lone tear dripped to the floor as Hutch held the shell and began to whisper. He stopped abruptly. Just make sure ya tell me when you make that wish okay? Just in case. Better play it safe, Hutchinson, just in case. He got up and headed to where he knew he would find his best friend.

Hutch sat on the bed searching for the face of his friend under the mound of rigging he now was hooked up to. He picked up Starsky’s hand and laid the shell in it and covered it with his own hand squeezing. He closed his eyes and let his head rest on top both their hands. He let his heavy, blood shot eyes close. You can’t die Buddy. Damn it please, just don’t die. I’d take your place, pal, in a second if…. What if? He stopped a moment his heart fluttered at the breathtaking realization he had just made. I wish, I wish, Hutch opened his mouth to let the words flow out “I wish I could be with you partner. I wish I could take your….” Hutch didn’t get to finish his wish as he fell into a deep sleep.

 

Chapter Two

The Torino’s tires were tight to the curb as it skidded around the corner of the sidewalk. Both Starsky’s hands gripped the wheel and his eyes narrowed with utmost concentration. Hutch grabbed the dashboard in an attempt to stop his slide across the seat into his partner. “Starsk, slow down.” Hutch yelled out with the slight tone of fear in his voice.

Heading out of the city Starsky made a sharp right turn onto a gravel pitted road. Pebbles popped and spit out from under the mag wheels of the Torino. “Starsk, where the hell are we going? Will you please slow down.” The wind nipped at Hutch’s face and he pushed his hand through his hair stopping it from whipping in his eyes. “Starsk? Starsk? Starsky, talk to me damn it.”

“You’re not going to do it, Hutch. I won’t let you.” Starsky gripped the wheel tighter and pressed the gas pedal down harder. The Torino fish tailed around a sharp bend. Hutch lost his grip on the dashboard and slid hard into his partner’s side. He decidedly stayed there resting against Starsky’s shoulder and placing his hand on the steering wheel fighting with his partner to pull the car over to the side of the road.

“Starsky pull the hell over. Pull over I said.” Hutch used his Dobey impersonation to get his partner’s undivided attention. With one last burst of gas Starsky slammed on the brakes and the red machine spun one complete rotation before coming to stop in the middle of the road.

“Do you mind telling me what the hell you think you’re doing, Buddy? Hutch still sat next to his partner his chest heaving from the exertion it took to get the crazed, dark haired man to stop. “Buddy look at me. Look at me, Starsk.”

Starsky turned ever so slowly letting his eyes home in on his partner’s eyes. They stared at one another with great intensity. Hutch examined the blueness of his friend’s irises. They churned like torrent waves. The violent flow of blue anger lit into him like a Roman candle. Starsky finally spoke his voice shuddered with a low and angry pitch. “Not going to let you do it, Hutch.”

Hutch looked confused “Not going to let me do what, Starsk?”

“I gave that wish for you. Not for me partner. You’re not going to wish yourself in my shoes. I won’t let you do it Hutch.” Starsky’s anger softened and he removed his hand from the steering wheel placing it on Hutch’s shoulders. “You can’t wish this away buddy. That’s not the way. This is my fight. Win or lose, it’s my battle alone. You can’t help me Hutch. Accept the facts.”

Hutch looked utterly shocked. What the hell was going on? It hadn’t even dawned on him before. He was to busy trying to get his hotheaded partner to stop the car. Last thing he remembered, he was next to his friend in the hospital about to what….? “I was about to make a wish, Starsk.” His mind finally coming to a place of remembrance. “I wished,” Hutch stopped to think.

“You wished to be with me partner and here you are. You were about to wish to take my place. I’m not about to let you do that, do you hear me?” Starsky let his hand fall from the shoulder it had been on.

“I can’t lose you, buddy. If that means me taking your place, you know I would. I want to.” Hutch let his head rest back against the black leather seat.

“Hutch you can’t help me this time. It’s my battle. Win or lose, I know you’re there for me. But it’s not in the cards partner. You hear me it’s not your time.” Starsky looked over his shoulder as if someone were calling to him. “Gotta go partner, get out.” Starsky gave one more squeeze to the hand of his best friend with a lopsided grin. “It will be okay, Blintz.”

“What?” Hutch was completely disarrayed.

“Get out of the car, Hutch. I gotta go.”

“Not letting you go Starsky, I won’t.” Hutch reached for the keys to swipe them out of the ignition.

Starsky cuffed the hand of his partner; opening the driver side door at the same time he hauled Hutch roughly from the Torino. “Sorry buddy.” Starsky’s voice was apologetic as he cuffed his partner’s other hand; hopping back into the car he sped off down the gravel road toward a bright light.

Hutch screamed, the dread in his voice rocking him to his knees. He knelt on the gravel-pitted road watching his best friend in the whole world race away from him. “Starsk, don’t you go. Please don’t.”

Hutch bolted upright, sweat rolling down his face and he wiped it from his eyes. He looked around the room in confusion. He heard the steady beeping and peered at his friend, who still lay unmoving under the array of wires and gizmos. “A dream just dreaming.” Hutch moved his hand and the shell slipped off the sheets and landed on the floor cracking open. The lavender colored pearl rolled out of the shell and came to rest by the brown suede shoe. Hutch bent over picking up the bead. He held it in his hand clenching his fist around it tight. His mind emptied of all thoughts. His mouth wanted desperately to speak words. His heart locked in his throat. All he could do was hold on. Hold on to the pearl, hold on to his hope, and hold on to his wish. A wish that had no words. A wish embedded so deeply in the very essence of who he was. No words spoken in any language could help now. It was all out of his hands now, out of his control. He let go. He placed his desires into greater hands wishing, hoping, and praying that some way, some how his yearning ache would be fulfilled.

Looking back at his partner, he thought he saw the slightest twitch around his eyes. Hutch leaned in close watching. There it was again. Starsky’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “Starsk?” His voice softer than down. “Buddy you in there? Come on pal.” The dark haired man’s eyes fought to open. “That’s it partner come on open ’em. I’m here, look at me buddy. I’m right here.” Hutch lifted the limp, frigid hand of his partner off the bed and squeezed tightly. “Don’t let me down buddy. Come on now. Back me up here. I need you to open your eyes partner.”

Starsky struggled to cling to consciousness. He could hear the mumblings of his partner that sounded so far away. He searched for a way out of the darkness battling to come up to the surface. His eyelids felt heavy as stones. He felt a squeeze of his hand. He tried to squeeze back but numbness enveloped him. He wasn’t sure his attempt was successful. He heard more words of elated joy. “Buddy you did it you squeezed my hand. Hutch had felt the slightest pressure returned to him. He lingered over Starsky’s face so close he could feel the breath of his friend.

Starsky fought through the blur of color forcing his eyes to focus on the object in front of him. Hutch’s excitement faded as he watched his friend swallow hard at the pain that rolled over him. He held the hand of his partner with renewed force. “You’re all right. I got you, Buddy.

“Wa.. happ..” Starsky closed his eyes at the pain, not being able to finish the words that came out in a strangled choke.

“Gordo, hey, don’t you talk now. You were shot. Just take it slow Starsk. I’m right here. You’re going to make it.”

Starsky forced his eyes open once more, squinting at his friend. “Y.. look. terr..le..” Hutch could barely understand the words.

“Starsk no more talking.” Hutch said sternly. “Look Buddy.” He raised the lavender colored pearl up to his friend’s face. “Wishes do come true, Partner. Thanks for the best birthday present I ever could have gotten.”

Starsky gave Hutch a weak smile and both gazed at one another with a look that was exclusive only to them. It would be a long hard road ahead but they would make it together. Wishes do come true.

 

Epilogue

There is truly such a thing as a wishing pearl. Pearls have been revered throughout history as symbols of good fortune and happiness. White-for wisdom, cream for success, gold for wealth, peach for health, lavender for LOVE. Make a wish, hold it tight in your heart and let your soul fly. May all your wishes come true!!