And the Band Played Music Box Dancer

204

The year is 2008 and the world is in the fifth year of a deadly flu pandemic which threatens to take Starsky away from Hutch forever.

---

Sometimes I wake at four in the morning
When all the darkness is swarming
And it covers me in fear

 Sometimes I’m full of anger and grieving
So far away from believing
That any song will reappear

 Sometimes when the painted glass shatters
You’re the only thing that matters
But I can’t see you through the tears

  –-U2, The Little Things That Give You Away

 

August 1980

“You did not!” Starsky exclaims, gleefully chasing Hutch through the apartment, wrapping his arms around his partner and pulling him close when he finally catches him.

“I did too!” Hutch laughs, playfully trying to squirm out of Starsky’s reach.

“I don’t believe it! I don’t believe for one minute that you told your mom about us!”

“Oh sure, she’s very open-minded about things like that. In fact, I told her how we like to bang each other on the kitchen counter after we clean up the dinner dishes.”

“You’re gonna pay for that, Hutchinson!” Starsky warns, pinning Hutch against the wall as he pulls out a set of standard police-issue handcuffs from his back pocket.

“Please, officer…don’t arrest me, I’m innocent!”

“We’ll see about that. When I’m through with you, you ain’t gonna be so innocent any more…”

###

Later that night, they lay in bed, arms wrapped around each other contentedly, Hutch’s head leaning on Starsky’s chest. As they’re about to doze off, Starsky opens his eyes and gently nudges Hutch. “Hey, what ARE we gonna tell your mom? And mine?”

Hutch lifts his head up, rolls over onto his side, and props himself up on his elbow, carefully studying Starsky’s expression before answering. “I don’t know, buddy. But I wasn’t kidding about my mom being open-minded. I think ever since my divorce, she’s just wanted me to be happy, and whether that’s with a man or a woman, I don’t think it’d matter to her.”

Starsky frowns. “You know my mom, though. She’s always askin’ when am I gonna settle down and have kids. She wants to be a grandma in the worst way, Hutch. And it’s not like a coupla guys are gonna have kids together, unless someone invents a male womb or somethin’.”

“Hey,” Hutch asks, his voice suddenly touched with a plaintive edge. “But don’t you want to have kids someday?”

“Yeah, of course, but…not without you.” Starsky leans his head against his partner’s and briefly closes his eyes.

“Well, maybe we can adopt.”

Starsky opens his eyes and flashes Hutch a smile. “Yeah, maybe we can.” He pulls Hutch on top of him. “Or maybe, we can try to make a baby together right now. Whaddya say?”

Hutch laughs as he leans over and presses his mouth to Starsky’s…….

 

March 2008

“Grandpa, when is Pop-Pop coming home?”

Hutch lifts up his granddaughter and places her on his lap. “He’s still very sick, sweetheart, so he has to stay in the hospital until he gets better.” IF he gets better, which is doubtful. Not too many H3N3 patients ever came off the ventilator, especially not after being on it for three weeks. Hutch looks up and tries to blink away the tears that are threatening to make an appearance, and not for the first time today.

“Why can’t we visit him?”

“Well, it’s like I told you the last time you asked. Patients aren’t allowed to have visitors because it’s not safe for the people who work there, or for us.”

“Is Pop-Pop gonna die from the virus like Mommy did?”

“I don’t know, Leah, baby,” Hutch sighs. “Your mom died when you were born because the virus is very, very dangerous for pregnant women. But it’s also dangerous for people over age 60, like Pop-Pop and me. That’s why he’s so sick.”

“I miss him,” Leah frowns and leans in for a hug.

“I miss him, too,” Hutch responds pensively as Leah jumps down from his knee.

“Can I have some ice cream, Grandpa?”

“Sure, sweetheart, let’s go see what we have.” Leah takes her grandpa’s hand and eagerly pulls him towards the kitchen, her feelings about missing her Pop-Pop pushed to the back of her mind for the moment.

“Lucky girl, there’s a little bit left. Maybe next week, we’ll be able to buy some more, if the market gets a delivery.”

He watches as Leah eagerly laps at the cool and refreshing scoop of vanilla. As she contentedly eats her frozen dessert, Hutch carefully reads over the ingredient list: milk, cream, corn syrup, whey, artificial vanillin flavor. He frowns as he remembers how vanilla ice cream was once made from real sugarcane and vanilla extract, and sometimes there were little black specks of vanilla beans throughout.

But that all ended when the vanilla farmers in Madagascar succumbed to H3N3 and there was no one left who knew how to harvest the complicated crop. That was four long years ago. The sugarcane farmers in South America were affected as well, although to a lesser degree. But at least they’d been lucky to have chocolate ice cream until two years ago.

And now the price of cacao and sugarcane were so high, that only a privileged few were able to enjoy anything made with them.

Hutch didn’t know if Leah would ever experience the joy of eating chocolate again, whether in candy bar form or ice cream. Not unless they won the lottery, maybe. Chocolate chip cookies were Starsky’s favorite, and it saddened Hutch to think that Leah might never know their taste. Most likely, she no longer remembered what chocolate even tasted like.

That got him thinking, which was always a bad thing lately. Young children, he noticed, were able to adapt to most things, but their memories faded fast. He wondered how long it would be until Leah forgot the sound of Starsky’s voice or the feeling of his dark curls tickling her face.

He wonders how long it will be until he started to forget, too.

He reflects on his childhood and the trajectory of his life, and all the things that he’d taken for granted, naively thinking they would always be there when he needed them. And now Starsky was about to become one of those things. You never truly knew how blessed you were until everything you once loved was out of reach and gone forever.

When Hutch was a child, he couldn’t possibly have conceived of living in a world without his sister, his parents, or his beloved grandfather in it. Before H3N3, Hutch could never have imagined living in a world without chocolate or vanilla. Or Starsky. It was strange, this new reality. And it made him sad each time he thought about it, which was why he tried so hard not to.

As he watches his granddaughter enjoy her artificially-flavored frozen concoction, he instinctively looks towards the window and tries to imagine he can hear the high-pitched, tinny sound of music from the ice cream truck, broadcast endlessly throughout the neighborhood by mechanical chimes playing on a 40-second loop, over and over and over. It must have driven the ice cream man mad having to listen to it all day, he thought.

“Have I ever told you about the ice cream man?” he asks Leah suddenly.

“What’s an ice cream man?” She’s intrigued, eyes wide, eager to learn something new.

“Well, a long time ago, before H3N3, we had a lot of things that we don’t have anymore. Things like restaurants, sports and musical theater. Those were some of the places that people went to have fun. You know what a restaurant is, don’t you?”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’ve seen them on TV. It’s a building where people went to eat and other people would cook for them.”

“That’s right, and sometimes the restaurants would come to the people, and all we had to do was go outside and there would be a truck parked at the curb selling food. You could buy things like hot dogs with all the fixings, and soda, and other stuff. You would just go up to the truck and tell the person what you wanted and then you could eat it standing outside, or sitting on the curb, or even in your car.”

Intrigued, Leah jumps up from the kitchen table and runs over to the window, peering out at the street. “You mean you could look out the window and see a hot dog truck ALL THE TIME?”

“Well, not all the time. Usually just between lunchtime and dinner. And there was never one right outside our house. But if we walked two blocks that way…” he joins Leah at the window and points west, “…there would usually be a taco truck. And on the next block past that was a hot dog truck.”

“Wow,” Leah exclaims, taking in the wonder of it all.

“And in the summer,” Hutch continued, “there were trucks that sold ice cream. Doesn’t that sound fun? But instead of staying parked at the corner all day, the ice cream man would drive around the neighborhood, and he would play music from a loudspeaker, so that even if you were inside with the windows closed, you could hear it. And all you had to do was grab some change and run outside.

If the ice cream man wasn’t on your street yet, you could tell from the direction of the music where he was, and you could either wait for him to drive down your street, or you could follow the sound of the chimes to find him. Kids would appear from all around to buy ice cream, especially on really hot summer days.”

Leah scrunches her face the way she always did when she was puzzled. “Didn’t any ladies sell ice cream?”

Hutch laughs and kisses her forehead. “Yes, I’m sure they did. But when I was a kid, it was almost always a man, and so we called him the ice cream man. When we heard the music, we’d all shout, ‘The ice cream man is here!’ and we’d run outside to find him.”

“What kind of ice cream did he have, Grandpa?”

“Oh, there were all kinds. Some ice cream trucks had soft-serve ice cream that you could eat on a cone, but other trucks sold things like chocolate fudgesicles and fruit-flavored popsicles, ice cream bars on wooden sticks, and Italian ices. They even had bars called chocolate eclairs which had a crunchy coating on the outside and vanilla and chocolate ice cream in the center. The bars came wrapped in a plastic wrapper and you held them by the stick.”

“What happened to the ice cream man? I’ve never seen him.”

“Well, sweetheart, he went the way of all the other food trucks and restaurants. It just became too dangerous because of how contagious the virus is. The last time I heard the music outside was about four-and-a-half years ago, when you were just a little baby.”

“Did grownups ever buy ice cream from the ice cream man?”

“Oh, yes. And do you know which grownup loved the ice cream man the most? Bet you’ll never guess!”

“Pop-Pop?”

“That’s right! One hot summer day, Pop-Pop and I were cleaning up after dinner, when all of a sudden, we heard the sound of music coming from outside for the first time since the virus began. And he was so excited he could barely contain himself. He started shouting and dancing around, ‘The ice cream man is here…Hutch, Leah…the ice cream man!’

And then he lifted you up from your highchair, gathered you in his arms, grabbed his wallet, and ran outside to meet the truck. When he came back with you a few minutes later, he was carrying two ice cream bars wrapped in plastic. One for him and one for me, because you were too young to eat ice cream.”

“What kind were they?”

“A strawberry shortcake bar for Pop-Pop, his favorite, and a toasted almond bar for me, which was my favorite.”

Leah wrinkles her nose as if reacting to something distasteful. “He didn’t get chocolate?”

“No, honey. Although I guess he would have, if we’d known what was going to happen.” Hutch looks down at the floor and sighs, then pauses to collect himself. “So then we sat outside on the front porch and ate our ice cream, and I’m pretty sure he let you have some when he thought I wasn’t looking.”

He taps Leah lightly on the nose as she considers this for a minute, and then her eyes light up as she excitedly asks her question.

“What song did the ice cream man play?”

“It was a song called ‘Music Box Dancer.’ Here, I’ll play it for you.” He rifles through the entertainment center for the CD and pops it into the player. As the rousing piano sounds of Frank Mills’ instrumental ‘Music Box Dancer’ ring out throughout the room, other instruments join the piano in celebration.

Happy and carefree as children tend to be, Leah begins to giddily twirl around the room.

###

Hutch lies in bed, empty on one side for so long, and stares up at the ceiling. He tries to imagine that Leah, sleeping peacefully in the next room, is dreaming of ice cream trucks and happy songs.

He thinks about that last time he heard the sound of the ice cream truck, that summer day more than four years ago, and remembers how excited Starsky was. They had been in lockdown for so many months that they’d almost forgotten what it felt like to go outside and see other people.

The unexpected and welcome appearance of the ice cream truck that day had at first seemed to them a bellwether of good things to come.

But how wrong they had been.

As Hutch remembers looking out the window and watching Starsky stride jauntily with their baby granddaughter towards the sound of the chimes, it occurs to him for the first time that the sound was anything but happy. In fact, he realizes how tinny and almost mournful it sounded. While the original version of the song was lively, upbeat, and hopeful, filled with the sounds of many instruments playing together, the ice cream truck version seemed like a pale substitute, a thin and sickly cousin with a slower tempo and an air of melancholy that even the prospect of happy children eating ice cream at the end of a hot summer’s day couldn’t quite dispel.

As he remembers listening to the sound of the faraway mechanical chimes, he thinks about how they always had the magical effect of making the truck seem closer than it really was, and he sensed opportunities slipping away, as time marched on unrelenting and the H3N3 virus marched unremittingly through the population.

Hutch turns his head to the right and looks despondently at the other side of the bed, the side which has been empty for the past three weeks. Starsky’s side.

As he reaches out and touches the lonely pillow, his thoughts wander back to his childhood, so long ago now, and he tries to think of happier times, when he and his friend Nancy Blake and the other kids on East 3rd Street in Duluth would be merrily playing hide-and-seek or tag or red light green light, but as soon as they heard the familiar music, they’d immediately pause their game and gleefully shout, ‘The ice cream man is here!’ as they ran towards the colorful, beckoning truck.

But the ice cream truck from his childhood didn’t play ‘Music Box Dancer,’ did it?  No, it was another popular song at the time played by ice cream trucks from sea to shining sea, called ‘Turkey in the Straw.’ No one questioned why it was played, as if it was an innocent children’s song instead of the racist anthem it was in reality. But that was long before little Kenneth Hutchinson had ever heard the term “racism.” He didn’t even know the song had lyrics until he was well into his 30s.

That long-ago ice cream truck and the tinny sound of the mechanical chimes was a reminder of a childhood and an innocence that had slowly slipped away. A time when his only responsibilities were doing his chores and handing in his homework.

He places his head on Starsky’s empty pillow and sobs.

###

Hutch sits on the sofa next to Leah, patting her head gently as she watches her favorite children’s show on TV, a show whose most recent episode was made almost five years ago. There had been no new TV production during the pandemic, but thankfully, Hutch reflects, young children will happily watch the same episodes over and over again without complaint.

As he lovingly watches his granddaughter laughing at the screen, intently absorbed in her story, Hutch’s mind wanders elsewhere…….

###

It’s 11:05pm and they’re just starting to drift off to sleep when the phone rings suddenly. Starsky looks over at Hutch and picks up the receiver on the nightstand. “Hello? What…is she okay…oh my God…which hospital are they taking her to?”

Hutch leans his head close to Starsky’s so he can hear the conversation. It’s Deborah’s neighbor on the other end and he can tell the news isn’t good. She’s explaining how Deborah’s fever had spiked and she feared the worst.

Starsky hangs up the phone and looks at Hutch. “What do we do? Will they even let us in to see her?”

“We have to try. Maybe they’ll let one of us in.”

They hastily pull on their shoes and jackets and head towards Memorial Hospital where the ambulance has taken their daughter, who is 32 weeks pregnant. Her fever is over 104 degrees.

Arriving at the main entrance, they’re brusquely stopped by a security guard who informs them that visitors aren’t allowed in, but then someone else — a kind, middle-aged woman — comes and takes their names and phone number and promises to give them an update as soon as she has one.

Starsky drives them home in silence as they hold tightly onto each other’s hands.

The next morning, Hutch wakes blearily to the sound of the phone ringing. Blinking, he squints at the alarm clock on the nightstand: 7:32am. He nudges Starsky awake as he reaches for the phone.

“Yeah.”

“Hello, this the Maternity Ward at Memorial Hospital calling for Mr. Hutchinson or Mr. Starsky.”

“This is Mr. Hutchinson. Go ahead,” he answers in a trembling voice, and his eyes lock onto Starsky’s.

“It’s about Ms. Deborah Hutchinson-Starsky.”

“Yes, she’s my daughter. How is she?”

“I’m very sorry to have to tell you this over the phone, Mr. Hutchinson, but your daughter died at 7:12am this morning.”

Hutch’s face goes white as Starsky’s eyes widen, implicitly understanding what’s happened. He puts his hand on Hutch’s shoulder and squeezes it.

“Mr. Hutchinson, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks…uh…”

“Unfortunately, as you probably know, H3N3 is very dangerous for pregnant women. We tried everything we could to save her, but in the end, it was out of our hands.”

“Okay. Um… what about the baby? Is-”

“I have some good news. Your daughter delivered a healthy baby girl, and she tested negative for the virus. You can bring her home in a few days. We’ll give you a call when she’s ready.”

“Oh, thank God,” Hutch breathes a sigh of relief, flashing a feeble smile as Starsky looks at him. Thanking the caller, he hangs up the phone and as the tears begin to fall freely down both their faces, they embrace each other as they weep simultaneous tears of sorrow and joy.

###

“Grandpa, did you hear what I said?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry Leah, I must have missed that.” Hutch feigns a smile and tries to corral his thoughts back into the present day. “What did you say, sweetheart? Is your show over?”

“It’s okay, never mind.” Leah scrunches her face as she stares at Hutch. “Why are you crying, Grandpa?”

He hastily wipes away the tear that has fallen down his cheek. “It’s nothing, baby. I was just thinking about your Mom.”

“Oh,” Leah frowns. Sensing that her grandfather needs a hug, she leans over and puts her arms around him. Grateful for the distraction, he hugs her back.

###

Two weeks later, Hutch is listening to the radio in the background as he washes up the dinner dishes, when he hears the news. A pharmaceutical company in New York has just announced the results of a successful vaccine trial almost five years after the start of the pandemic, and they hope to make it available to the public in the next few weeks, pending government approval. President Hartwicke says the first Americans to be given the vaccine will be healthcare workers and people over 60, and then they’ll roll it out to children and teachers in time for school to begin in the fall.

Imagine that, Hutch thinks, Leah will be able to attend kindergarten in a real school! And for the first time in her life, she’ll be able to play with other children instead of staring at them longingly from across the street.

The man on the radio says it will be a challenge to re-open the schools which have stood empty for so many years, but the school districts have five months or more to get ready and the teachers (the ones who’ve survived, anyway, Hutch thinks) are looking forward to finally returning to their classrooms.

Available for people over 60, he thinks wistfully. But it was too late for Starsky, wasn’t it? Sadly, just a few months too late.

###

A week after the vaccine news, Hutch and Leah are playing catch in the backyard when the sound of a ringing telephone interrupts their playful reverie. Hutch rushes inside to answer it, dreading what he thinks he’s about to hear. Starsky has been on the ventilator for six weeks now and every time the phone rings, Hutch fears the worst.

“Hello,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper as he nervously fumbles the receiver, hands shaking. Please, don’t let it be the hospital calling with bad news. Please.

He braces himself as a wobbly voice comes on the other end of the line.

“Hutch. It’s me, babe.”

###

With another dinner behind them and the dishes neatly put away, Starsky and Leah sit outside on the front porch playing Cootie, drinking lemonade and eating the chocolate chip cookies that Hutch had baked that afternoon, while Hutch putters around in the garden, trimming the flowers in the bed.

It’s the first day of summer, the solstice. The longest day of the year, and the best one so far.

Suddenly in the distance, a familiar tune begins to play, and the three stop what they’re doing to listen. Leah recognizes it instantly. “The ice cream man!!!!” she screams excitedly as she scrambles down the porch towards the end of the driveway, cocking her head from side-to-side to try to decipher which direction the sound is coming from.

Hutch helps Starsky and his walker down the steps and together they join their granddaughter. But they soon realize they can’t decide where the music is coming from because it seems to be coming from every direction, as the swollen tune echoes all around them like a symphony.

As Leah begins to twirl around happily, Hutch picks her up and swings her in the air, then holds her to his chest as they dance together to the music.

“Hey, look!” Starsky shouts. Hutch stops and they all turn their heads towards the corner to see the ice cream truck headed down their street. But then it’s followed by another one, and another. A veritable parade of ice cream trucks was coming towards them, all playing Music Box Dancer synchronously, accompanied by flashing lights and honking horns.

Hutch puts Leah down and they stand on either side of Starsky, who is still holding onto his walker.

Then the trucks pull over and stop, one behind the other, as children and grownups alike come out from their houses and yards and proceed excitedly towards them, money in hand.

“Do you want some ice cream, sweetheart?” Hutch asks Leah.

“Yessssss!” she shrieks as he laughs and ruffles her hair. “And how about you, little boy, would you like some ice cream, too?” he asks Starsky, placing his hand on his partner’s neck and kissing the top of his head, pausing a moment to relish in the feeling of Starsky’s thick dark curls, edged with gray these days, gently tickling his face.

“Which truck do you want, baby?” Hutch asks Leah. “There are so many to choose from. Looks like that one over there has soft-serve ice cream on a cone, and that one has ice cream pops on sticks and Italian ices.”

“I want that truck! It has an ice cream lady!”

“Okay, the ice cream lady it is. Be right back,” Hutch says, kissing Starsky again as he takes Leah’s hand and walks her over to the truck, humming along to the tune and smiling.

 

Six Years Later

“Before we wrap up for the night, your principal, Mrs. Cooper, and all the faculty here at Bayview Elementary want to extend one last congratulations to our fifth graders and wish you the best of luck in middle school next year. And now we’re gonna take just one more request, if anyone has a song they’d like us to play. And kids, how ‘bout you dance this last dance with someone special — your parents, siblings, or whichever family members are here with you tonight.”

Immediately, a hand goes up in the back of the room.

“You have a request, young lady?”

“Yes, please.”

“Well, that’s great. What’s your name, miss?”

“Leah.”

“Okay, Leah, what song would you like us to play?”

“Music Box Dancer.”

“Oh, that’s a terrific choice. Is there someone here you’d like to dance with?”

“Yes. My grandpas.”

As the joyous piano intro issues from the sound system, the parents and loved ones gathered in the gymnasium take the hands of their newly-graduated fifth graders for one last spin around the dance floor.

Holding each of her grandfathers’ hands, Leah twirls between them, six years of ballet lessons showcasing her ability to pirouette gracefully. For a brief moment, Hutch finds himself lost in thought, reminiscing about the first time he and Starsky had danced with Leah in this same auditorium. It was the second month of kindergarten, with autumn just beginning, and they had square-danced with her at the first annual kindergarten hoe-down.

Now here they were, six years later, saying goodbye to the place that had become a second home to Leah, her friends, and their families. Or at least what remained of their families after the scourge of the virus had finally ended.

Noticing Starsky quietly looking at him, Hutch quickly wipes away a tear with the back of his hand and smiles to reassure his partner that he’s okay. Instinctively understanding what Hutch is thinking, Starsky takes Hutch’s hand in his own, squeezes it gently, and kisses his partner’s forehead.

As the song continues to play, Leah stops her twirling and embraces her grandfathers as the three of them waltz happily around the room.

 

14 years later

“Have fun?” Leah asks as she wraps her arms around her fiancé’s waist.

“Oh yeah, helping drag stuff out of my parents’ attic for their garage sale was the highlight of my day, babe.” He smiles and kisses Leah on her forehead.

“Find anything interesting up there?”

“Actually, yes. I hadn’t realized my mom saved all my stuff from school when I was a kid. You wouldn’t believe what I found. My grade school report cards, crappy drawings I made when I was five, letters I sent home from sleepaway camp…she kept them all.”

“What are you going to do with them? I hope you didn’t throw them away, Brian.”

“They’re in the trunk. I’ll bring them up to the attic later, where I suppose they’ll remain until we decide to retire early, sell the house, and move to Arizona one day,” he sighed, and Leah sensed pensiveness in the sound of it.

“They’ll only be a few hours away.” She hugs him tighter. “And besides, they promised to move back if we ever have kids.”

Brian smiles as he hugs her back. “Hey, my mom asked if we picked out our songs for the wedding yet. I told her about the ones we were considering for the processional and recessional, but then she asked about the song for the traditional Father-Daughter dance. I said I wasn’t sure about that one, but my dad offered to dance with you.”

“Oh, that’s sweet of him, but-”

“Don’t worry, I told him that you’d be dancing with your grandfathers.”

“Thanks.”

Brian asks Leah if she has a song in mind. She answers yes and tells him the name.

“Hmm, I don’t think I know that one.”

Leah searches the living room for her phone. “It’s been a long time since I’ve listened to it, but my grandpa first played it for me when I was around five, when Pop-Pop was in the hospital with the virus.”

Finding it, she picks up the phone and opens the music app. “Here, I’ll play it for you.”

-The End-