Miserable: A Trilogy

116

Hutch can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong with his partner.

 

3rd Place 2009 Torino Award Winner for “Outstanding Trilogy”

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Miserable

Miserable, that’s how I feel. Just plain miserable.

Pulling his heavy white and black sweater tighter around him, Starsky struggled to slow his shivering. As early as this morning, he knew something wasn’t right.

Waking earlier than normal, he felt like he hadn’t slept at all, and he was surprised to find he was drenched in sweat despite the cool morning breeze entering the window. He headed for the shower, hoping it would revive him a little. While sipping on a cup of coffee, he decided to take advantage of the early morning light. Picking up his camera off the dresser, he had just about reached the door, when the phone rang. Starsky hesitated, unsure at first whether he should answer it or just leave, but he found himself turning to pick up the phone. It might be Hutch.

“Starsky.”

“Mornin’, Starsk. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Nah, I was up already.” For reasons he couldn’t put into words, Starsky was relieved to hear Hutch’s voice. Instantly reflecting on how and what he’d said, he hoped his relief didn’t come through in his voice. His partner would be instantly suspicious. “What’s up?”

“Kiko and I are going fishin’. Just wondered if you wanted to join us.”

Starsky briefly considered the idea. He really would like to spend the day with them. If just hearing Hutch’s voice was comforting, wouldn’t he feel better spending the entire day with him? Grow up, Starsky, there’s nothing wrong. Besides, Hutch needs time to be with Kiko, he sees enough of you.

Knowing that Hutch and Kiko were at an important juncture in their Big Brother relationship, Starsky responded, “Nah, thanks for the offer, but you know me and fishin’, we don’t exactly get along. Besides, I have plans.”

The disappointment in Hutch’s voice almost made Starsky reconsider. “You sure, Starsk? We’d love to have ya come.”

“Thanks, buddy. Maybe next time.”

So he’d spent the day in the park. And in the end, he’d spent more time watching people than photographing them. Feeling slightly off kilter all day, it had been easier to watch the people than try to be part of them. Even the chili dog he’d had for lunch left a funny taste in his mouth.

Now he knew why. It was evening and he was sitting on his couch, wrapped in a sweater, staring numbly at the TV. He was aching all over, running a fever, feeling plain miserable. Why’d I tell Hutch I wouldn’t go with ’em this morning? At least if I was with him and Kiko, I wouldn’t be feelin’ miserable all by myself.

He knew he should get up, make some tea, take some aspirin—do something—but all he wanted to do was sit there and drown in his misery. Truth was—he missed his partner. He hated being sick, but it was even worse being sick alone. Having Hutch nearby couldn’t help but make him feel better. Hutch loved playing mother hen, to the point of being annoying sometimes, but when you were feeling downright miserable maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

When he was a little boy, he always felt better when his mother was around. She always seemed to know just what made him feel better. One day when he was about nine, he’d had a bad cold and stayed home from school. His mom, even though she was busy cleaning and ironing, would still check in on him every half hour or so, bringing medicine, water, juice, or just tucking him in. That particular day he hadn’t felt much like eating, even though she tried everything, including her chicken soup, which normally he couldn’t resist.

“What can I bring you, Davey? You have to eat something. What would make you feel better?”

Thinking hard, he’d answered, “Oreo cookies.”

Smiling at her son, she repeated, “Oreo cookies would make you feel better?” Seeing his solemn nod, she tucked him in and said, “Okay, I’ll see if we have some. You try to get a little sleep and I’ll be back.”

A little while later, the sound of his mother entering the room woke him. He smiled at the sight of the tray in her hands. A tray with a book, two glasses of milk, and a plate of Oreo cookies. He scooted up to lean against his pillows as his mom sat down next to him. While she quietly read to him, they’d shared the cookies and the milk. Finally, he’d fallen asleep and when he’d woken a few hours later, he’d felt better. It got to be a family joke that Oreo cookies were the world’s best medicine. Every time he’d gotten sick after that, his mom always had Oreo cookies on hand to help him get well. It wasn’t until years later that he’d found out that his mom had left him sleeping that day and had walked five blocks to the store to buy him those cookies.

Miserable. That’s how I feel. Starsky, curled up on the couch, aching from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes, whispered, “Hutch, when ya gettin’ home?”

Realizing how dumb that probably sounded coming from a grown man, Starsky chastised himself. Boy, am I sounding like a little kid. I should be ashamed of myself. Hutch and Kiko are having a great time together and all I can think of is having him here with me. I need to grow up.

Closing his eyes, he felt himself drifting off into a restless sleep.

* * *

“Starsk? Wake up, Starsk.”

Feeling a gentle shake waking him from his feverish dreams, Starsky opened his eyes. Looking into the concerned blue eyes of his partner, Starsky blinked several times, unsure if what he saw was real or imagined. Hutch! Hutch was here. He started to sit up but felt a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Not too fast. Just stay under the covers and rest. Sorry to wake you, but I heated some soup and I want you to eat it before it gets cold.”

“Hu-u-tch?” Starsky, surprised at how raspy his voice sounded, swallowed rapidly several times and gratefully drank from the glass of orange juice Hutch held out to him. “Whenja get here?”

“A little while ago. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“Didn’t know I was coming down with anything. It just kinda hit me…all of a sudden. Where’s Kiko?”

“I dropped him off before coming by to check on you. Here, take some aspirin with that juice.”

Starsky reached out to take the aspirin from his friend’s hand, surprised by the two blankets wrapped tightly around him. “Whaddaya mean, ‘check on me’?”

“Something bothered me all day long, and on the way home I finally figured it out. When I talked with you this morning you just didn’t sound right.” Hutch saw the look of disbelief on Starsky’s face and shrugged. “Don’t look at me that way. I can’t explain it. I just knew Kiko and I had to come back early so I could check on ya.”

Starsky pulled the covers up tight around him, stilling the shivers. It didn’t really matter what had brought Hutch home early. It only mattered that he was there.

Hutch walked into the kitchen and returned with the warm bowl of soup. “Here ya go, Starsk. Eat up. You’ll feel better.” As Starsky sat up a little straighter, coughing, Hutch placed his hand on his partner’s shoulder and squeezed. “Besides, I can guarantee it. I stopped at the store on the way home. When you finish this soup, I have a surprise for you.”

Starsky looked up at his partner with sudden interest, “Surprise?”

Hutch couldn’t help but grin as he received the expected response. “Yeah, I stopped and picked up some Oreo cookies. Knew they always make ya feel better.”

Starsky returned the grin as he reached for the bowl of soup. Somedays feelin’ miserable wasn’t so bad.

March 2001

 

Miserable—Continuation

Even though he didn’t open his eyes, Starsky sensed Hutch quietly walking toward him. The feel of Hutch’s hand on his forehead was cool and comforting. He wanted to say something, but at the moment anything seemed like it would take too much effort. It had been a long night, with Hutch spending it close at his side. He’d been too tired to move, so Hutch had gotten him settled on the couch and that’s where he had spent the night—with Hutch in a chair nearby.

He drowsily wondered how much sleep Hutch had actually gotten. Whenever the fever rose and the sweating started, he’d throw off his covers and Hutch always seemed to be there with cool, wet cloths. A short time later, the shivers would start and Hutch would tightly tuck the covers around him. I wonder who tucks Hutch in when he’s sick? Starsky, forehead furrowed in concentration, remembered. Oh, yeah; I do. Then he chuckled, unaware that he’d done it loud enough for Hutch to hear.

“What’s so funny, buddy?” Hutch asked, running a cool washcloth across Starsky’s forehead. “Nothin’.” Starsky shifted uneasily on the couch.

“Back getting a little sore.”

Starsky nodded and opened his eyes, giving in to the inevitable. He sat up a little straighter and leaned back against the pillow he suddenly found behind his back. “Whatcha still doin’ here?”

Hutch laughed. “I didn’t think you were quite ready to face the world on your own yet.” He reached beside him on the coffee table and picked up a glass. “Here, have some water.”

Starsky drank, gulping at the water.

“Hey, take it easy.” Hutch reached for the glass and, with his hand tightly gripping Starsky’s, slowed the water’s descent. Starsky’s face was flushed and his hand hot. Confirming Hutch’s gut feeling that his partner’s fever had risen overnight “How ya feelin’, buddy?”

“Terrific.” But the difficulty Starsky experienced in swallowing belied the soft smile on his face.

“I think your fever’s gone up, not down. Time to see a doctor. It’s Sunday, so I’m afraid that only leaves the hospital.”

“No hospital, Hutch.” Starsky straightened up, eyes widening in fear. “Look, I know it’s not your favorite place, but you’re sick.”

“The doc’s only gonna tell me I got a virus and it’ll work itself out. I ain’t goin’,” Starsky declared stubbornly, knowing full well that if Hutch decided he was going–he was going. He didn’t have enough strength to put up any resistance for long. Instead, he turned on the little boy charm that somehow always seemed to work on his partner. “I promise I’ll stay in bed and sleep.”

“And drink plenty of liquids?”

Starsky nodded earnestly; he’d promise anything to keep his partner from taking him to the hospital. “Plenty of liquids.”

Sighing, Hutch agreed. “Okay—for now. But if you start feeling worse, I don’t want to hear ‘but, Hutch.’ I’m takin’ ya straight to the hospital.”

Starsky nodded solemnly, but relaxed visibly at the blond’s words.

“Let’s go.” Hutch reached for the covers Starsky suddenly had a deathlike grip on.

Confused, Starsky said, “But I said I’d sleep…”

Hutch nodded sternly, while he stifled a laugh when he saw the look of childish terror that had suddenly appeared on Starsky’s face. “You said you’d ‘stay in bed and sleep’. So let’s go. That couch has got to be uncomfortable.”

Relieved that he wasn’t headed to the hospital, Starsky willingly gave up the covers and shakily stood. Hutch grabbed Starsky’s elbow for support and helped him into the bedroom. As they neared the bed, Hutch moved slightly ahead and pulled back the covers. Finding even the short walk draining, Starsky sank gratefully onto the bed.

“Okay, Gordo, under the covers. You’re here for the duration.”

“But the TV…”

“No TV, Starsk, you promised. And I quote ‘I promise I’ll stay in bed and sleep’.”

Realizing Hutch wasn’t going to budge, at least not until there were visible signs he felt better, Starsky slid under the covers and curled up on his side. Smiling, he let himself drift back to sleep. You’ll make a great dad someday, Hutch.

* * *

Warm and comfortable under the blankets, Starsky buried his head deeper into his pillows wishing that whoever was shaking his shoulder would cut it out and go away.

“Starsk…”

The incessant shaking continued and Starsky grew increasingly irritated. Not only was it annoying, but the movement was making his head ache even more. Unable to stand it any longer, Starsky tried pulling out of its reach, as he mumbled, “Lemme sleep.”

“Can’t. Dobey expects me back in twenty minutes.” Hutch was finding it hard to be patient. He knew Starsky still wasn’t feeling well, but he was running out of time. “It’s lunchtime and I rushed over here to fix you something to eat. The least you could do is sit up and give it a try.”

Starsky pulled the covers over his head, and Hutch barely caught the mumbled words. “Leave it on the nightstand. I’ll eat it in a lil’ bit.”

Hutch grabbed the top of the blanket and pulled. “No way, José. If I walk outta here, the soup will still be sittin’ here at five o’clock. C’mon, sit up.”

Reluctantly opening his eyes, Starsky knew his partner was right. He’d been sick for two days now and he’d spent most of the time sleeping. It seemed like all Hutch ever wanted was for him to drink. Drink juice, drink tea, drink water. He had to be turning into a veritable fountain by this time.

“C’mon, buddy. I’ve gotta get back.”

Starsky tried to turn and pull himself up. But finding his legs tangled in the blankets and his arms too weak to hold him up, he gratefully sank back down, figuring Hutch would at least see he’d made an attempt.

Seeing Starsky struggling to sit up, Hutch set the tray down and pulled the covers back. Starsky, finding his excuse gone, reluctantly, turned onto his back. He’d managed to sit halfway up when Hutch jammed another pillow behind him. “That better?”

“Yeah, thanks,” came the hoarse reply.

Handing Starsky the cup of tea, Hutch studied his friend’s still pale face. On Saturday, after returning early from a fishing trip with Kiko, he’d found Starsky ill and feverish. Finally getting some food into him, he’d helped Starsky to bed where he insisted Starsky stay all of Sunday and into Monday morning. The fever had finally broken last night, but it had left his partner tired and drained.

“Feelin’ any better?”

Starsky, sipping briefly on the tea, smiled to himself as he realized it was fixed perfectly: a little honey, a little lemon and a little whiskey. Coughing to clear his throat, he answered, surprise in his voice, “Actually, I do feel a little better.”

“Told you sleep was what you needed,” Hutch said triumphantly, though he wasn’t about to admit to the brunet that he’d been more than a little scared at Starsky’s worsening condition on Sunday. Truth was, Hutch had been uneasy with the deal he and Starsky made, but it seemed to calm his partner. He’d kept a careful eye on him instead—with plans to chuck the whole deal immediately, if it became necessary. So he’d spent all of Sunday and Sunday night sitting on Starsky’s couch or in the chair next to his bed watching for any change in his condition. When the fever finally broke about 3:00 AM, they both managed to get a few hours of restless sleep.

“Tastes good, Hutch.” Starsky found himself eagerly reaching for the bowl of soup and crackers Hutch held out for him. “Thanks.”

After watching Starsky eat for several minutes, Hutch stood up to leave. “Just put the empty bowl back on the tray and I’ll wash it when I get back.”

Starsky nodded, surprised at how hungry he suddenly felt. Realizing Hutch was leaving, he stopped long enough to ask eagerly, “I’m getting tired of things you can pour. Can you bring me something else for dinner?” Hutch turned at the door to look at his partner’s suddenly woeful expression, anticipating Starsky’s choice. “I know I’ll be feelin’ better by then. How ‘bout some pizza?”

“You need fluids, not pizza.”

“Leave me a whole gallon of orange juice. It’ll all be gone when you get back. I promise. That be ‘nough fluids for ya?”

Hutch shook his head, pausing briefly to wonder why he always gave in to his partner’s wishes, but the smile mirrored in his blue eyes signaled his agreement. “I’ll stop for a pizza. But are you gonna eat the pizza before or after the Oreo cookies?”

“Cookies? Are there cookies left?” Starsky’s interest was suddenly aroused. “You wouldn’t be holdin’ out on me, would ya, Hutch?”

Chuckling at the obvious improvement in Starsky’s health and spirits, Hutch headed into the kitchen for the remaining Oreos and the orange juice, happy to see his partner finally feeling better. Finding only three cookies left in the package, he made a mental note to stop at the grocery store—before picking up the pizza.

April 2001

 

Miserable—A Silhouette

Hutch rolled onto his left side and reached across to swat the alarm clock before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Slowly standing up, he stopped, stretched and then headed toward the kitchen. The sun’s rays illuminated the edge of the shade, and, as he pulled it up, his smile was instantaneous as the feel of the rays hit his face. It was going to be a great day for fishing. Glancing at his watch, Hutch realized he had only about forty-five minutes before he had to pick up Kiko. He started toward the shower, and as he passed the phone he impulsively picked it up and dialed.

“Starsky,” came the mumbled reply on the other end. “Mornin’, Starsk. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Nah, I was up already.” Knowing that his partner normally slept late on Saturday mornings, Hutch was a little surprised to find his partner already up and apparently moving around. Hutch hesitated a second, hearing something in the tone or inflection of Starsky’s voice that made him sound a little strained or tired. Heck, Starsky hated getting up early in the morning, no wonder he sounds tired. “What’s up?” Starsky asked, breaking into his reverie.

“Kiko and I are going fishin’. Just wondered if you wanted to join us.” When he reached for the phone, Hutch knew it was probably a hopeless cause. Starsky hated fishing. Said it always made him feel dumb when a little wiggling fish managed to yank on the fishing pole and get away. And to date they’d all managed to elude his curly-haired partner. But he had hoped that Starsky would still want to spend the day with them.

“Nah, thanks for the offer, but you know me and fishin’, we don’t exactly get along. Besides, I have plans.”

Hutch tried to hide his disappointment. Starsky didn’t enjoy fishing, but regardless of Starsky’s lack of enjoyment Hutch liked having him around and he knew Kiko did as well. The last time the three had gone out, Kiko had spent half the time trying to teach Starsky some card tricks he’d learned at school. And Starsky had bothered Hutch the entire evening until he let him try them out on him. He chuckled at the memory. “You sure, Starsk? We’d love to have ya come.”

“Thanks, buddy. Maybe next time.”

At the words ‘maybe next time,’ Hutch decided to drop the idea. He knew Starsky would undoubtedly go along if he continued to pressure him, but that was being selfish. After saying goodbye, Hutch headed for the shower, briefly wondering about the inexplicable, uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

“Look, Hutch!” yelled Kiko. “I got one!”

“Here, let me help.” Hutch hurried over to Kiko’s side and the two reeled in the fish, laughing as they struggled. Amazed that one fish could put up such a struggle.

After unhooking the fish, Hutch held it up for Kiko to inspect. “I finally got one, Hutch!” Kiko beamed. It was only the second time they’d gone fishing, and it was the first fish he’d caught on his own. He examined the fish proudly and then frowned. “It’s too small to keep, isn’t it, Hutch?”

“Let me have a look.” Hutch reached for the fish, eyeballing its length. “’Fraid so. Looks like we’ll have to throw it back in. Sorry, Kiko.”

“Oh, that’s okay. It took me all day but I still caught one.” Kiko’s smile still lit up his face. “Did Starsky?”

“Did Starsky what?” Hutch asked, as he bent down to pick up his rod.

“Did Starsky ever catch a fish this big?”

Hutch laughed and placed his arm around Kiko’s shoulder. “Nope. Can’t say that he’s ever caught any fish. Starsky and fishing don’t seem to get along.”

“That why he didn’t come today?”

Hutch thought back to his morning conversation with his partner. “Nope. Said he already had some plans.” Watching Kiko walk over to the dock’s edge to throw the fish back in, Hutch couldn’t help remembering the uneasy feeling he’d had when he and Starsky had talked. Their conversation kept popping into his head at the oddest times, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something Starsky hadn’t told him. For what felt like the hundredth time, he reran the few words they’d spoken through his mind. There was something in the sound of Starsky’s voice that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Suddenly, Hutch sat straight up and started packing up their supplies and food. That was it! Starsky’s voice. The last time he sounded so raspy and defeated, he’d gotten sick—seriously sick—with bronchitis.

 “Kiko?”

“Yeah, Hutch?”

“I’m sorry to break this up, but I’ve got to head into town early.”

“Sure,” Kiko grinned. “I already caught my fish.”

Kiko joined Hutch in quickly packing up the fishing gear and loading it into the trunk of the car; Hutch’s thoughts centered on his partner the entire time. He became more and more convinced that Starsky hadn’t been honest with him about his plans and that he was really sick.

* * *

Hutch dropped off Kiko and headed toward Starsky’s apartment. As he rounded the corner, he spotted the neighborhood store and impulsively pulled into its lot. Walking quickly, he headed directly to the cookie aisle. He searched the shelves, trying to remember which brand Starsky had once laughingly told him his mother gave him to make him feel better. Spying the Oreos, he grabbed a bag and then briskly walked to the cooler to grab a gallon of orange juice. Something Starsky’s refrigerator would no doubt be lacking.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, on the ride home Hutch had recalled Starsky’s story of what he considered ‘the best medicine.’ Several years earlier when Starsky had been home sick, Hutch had found his partner wrapped up in blankets, feeling terrible and eating Oreo cookies. He’d reached for the bag to take them away, but Starsky had grabbed them back. A look of fear filling his eyes. While munching on a cookie and guarding the bag, Starsky had shared a boyhood memory about the time his mom had brought him a bag of Oreo cookies and how they had made him feel better. Hutch had laughed at the whole idea, but it was obvious from the look on Starsky’s face he still believed that the cookies held some kind of healing power.

Hutch pulled up in front of Starsky’s apartment and turned off the ignition. The lights were out but the Torino was there. Certain his hunch was correct, Hutch reached for the grocery bag and smiled. Well, Starsk, it’s time to test your theory. We’ll see if Oreos are the best medicine in the world. If they work, I’ll buy you a whole cupboard full.

 

April 2001