A Quiet Look Back

102

It’s moving days for the guys and a forgotten note stirs up a lot of memories.

 

This story is by Lucy writing as Amanda Bradley.

Originally published in Hidden Secrets, Broken Hearts in 2004.

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The blond man looked quizzically at the wrinkled and yellowed folded piece of paper, unsure of what it was or why on earth he had kept it. He opened it slowly, the paper old and fragile. He read the first few words before he sat heavily on the bed, all thoughts of packing the dresser’s contents temporarily forgotten.

This game’s taken a turn I didn’t expect.
No fair—interference.
You might know where I’d go, buddy,
But Pardee changes everything.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me
But it hurts—hurts bad.
It’s getting hard to breathe and
I can’t see much anymore.
I wish I could leave you a note,
But I doubt you’ll ever see this.
I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry
About all the things I said.
I never thought I was better than you…
When did we ever need a scorecard anyhow?
How did we ever come to this pissin’ contest?
When I’m found I guess our game will look pretty dumb.
I’m sorry I suggested it, and I’m embarrassed at
All the flack you’ll get about it.
Oh, Starsk, I don’t want you to find me dead…
But I’m too sick to do anything about it.
I keep trying to bait Pardee to get us out of this room,
It’s all I can think of.
My legs went a while ago, and I can’t move my arms
Much now either. It’s getting hard to write.
Know what hurts worse than my belly?
I can’t tell you… I love you…
Can’t tell you goodbye…

Hutch carefully folded the years-old page and placed it gently in the box it had fallen out of. It was a small box of important papers, his diploma, his will, his domestic partnership agreement with his lover, David Starsky. Hutch had been devastated as he had written the note believing he would never have the chance to tell Starsky what was in his own heart.

“Hey,” a voice called from behind him. “Are you done unloading the drawers yet? I want to get the big furniture loaded before it gets so dark that we’re taking a chance on killing ourselves.”

Hutch placed the top securely on the box and put it back in he top drawer. “Yeah, I’m done, just found something I’d forgotten I had.”

“You can walk down memory lane when we’re done unpacking all this stuff at the new house, Blondie. Get that great ass moving. I’m ready to load the couch, come on.”

Hutch turned and stopped his lover’s hastily planned exit, turning Starsky toward him and wrapping him in his arms.

“Hey…what’s this for?”

“For now, for the fact that we’re both still here, alive and well and still together.”

Starsky pulled out of Hutch’s embrace to look over his shoulder at the drawer lying on the bed. “I knew it. I’m glad I packed all the photo albums while you were in court yesterday or we wouldn’t be as far along as we are. Anybody ever tell you you’re a sentimental softie?” Starsky asked with a gentle smile. “And I love you for it. But come on. The sooner we get the truck loaded the sooner we can go to the house and take a shower in our very own new shower and sleep in our very own new bed.” Starsky kissed Hutch’s lips, then tugged at his hand, pulling Hutch into the living room. “Just one more load tonight, that’s all, I promise. Then we can go home, get cleaned up and play all you want, if we’ve got enough energy left to stay awake more than five minutes after we hit the sheets.”

“No…we don’t need to play…no games, I just want to love you.” Hutch ran his hand through Starsky’s sweat-damp curls, letting his grip come out of the riotous hair to rest on a warm shoulder. And be quietly grateful that I have the chance…Hutch gave his lover a wink and walked out to the waiting couch.

Starsky stretched one last time, preparing to slide the dresser’s top drawer in place. The smooth slide inward was halted as the top of a cardboard box caught. He lifted the box out with one hand while fumbling with the ill-seated drawer with the other. With a hasty toss he dispatched the box and righted the drawer, sliding it securely home. When he turned to look for the box he saw it had landed on the bed on its side and the lid had fallen off, the contents spilling out.

With a sigh, he pulled the box toward him, righting it and began to refill the contents. His eyes fell on a ratty-looking piece of wrinkled paper. Curious, he unfolded it. As soon as he saw the handwriting he was instantly transported back in time more than ten years. He could so vividly remember the occasion that he was sure he could smell the antiseptic hospital odor. A nurse had given him Hutch’s clothes, or at least what he’d been wearing at the time he’d been brought in. Not anything Hutch would have normally worn, but an old and dirty coverall probably picked up at a thrift store. It was part of the elaborate costume Hutch had donned as part of his disguise.

That stupid fucking game, Starsky thought, feeling the wave of anger and remorse the memory held for him now. “I almost lost you because a stupid bet kept you from getting help when you first got sick. If you hadn’t been sick, Pardee would never have been able to snag you like he did. Man, did Dobey read me the riot act while we sat at the hospital waiting to see if my trick of getting shot at The Pits would bring you in. You didn’t buy it and slipped out from under the nose of every cop on the floor watching for you. If it hadn’t been so serious, it would have been funny.”

Starsky folded the note and closed up the box. “I’ve searched for you before and since,” he muttered. “But that time… I was almost too late. It was way too close, babe. Maybe because we were just starting to realize what we felt for each other and were trying to fight it. I was too scared to think… I almost blew it.” Starsky opened the top drawer and slid the box inside as if it were made of gold instead of cardboard. “It was just supposed to be a game…but it almost cost us everything.

One thing we did learn, though,” Starsky said with a smile. “Our relationship is too important to play with, and once we realized that…we were both winners.”