Enough is Enough

It’s time to admit what they knew all along.

Part 5: Always Enough Series

Starsky shivered as the nurse draped the thin green blanket over him, tucking the sides into the mattress.

“‘It’s a wonder you didn’t freeze to death,” Nurse Rippin scolded. “Imagine letting those sprinklers go off in a hospital room with a recovering patient.” She shook her head and smoothed the covers one last time before she walked away.

“Why couldn’t Hutch stay?” Starsky called out sleepily, “He said he was sorry for what happened. He promised to be quiet.”

“Your partner caused quite a commotion tonight, and your other two friends weren’t any better,” she replied. “I practically had to escort him out the door. He’s welcome to return tomorrow during visiting hours. Right now, you need to focus on getting some rest.”

She turned off the light, leaving Starsky in the darkness as the door clicked shut. He smiled, thoughts of Hutch casting a gentle warmth over him despite his chilled body.

For the first time in a long time, he felt vibrant and alive, a stark contrast to the mere hours earlier when he lay in the sterile hospital room with arms stretched over his head, reflecting on the past few months as he memorized the pattern of the ceiling tiles.

The specifics of the shooting had remained a blur, the memory of his near-death experience—the flatline—a hazy recollection. Doctors marveled at his survival, deeming it a miracle. Hutch was ecstatic at his progress. Starsky was grateful to be alive, but during the quiet hours, as painkillers eroded his defenses, his joy started to crumble as the weight of his pain sapped the strength of his every move.

The pain was not from the bullets alone; it was the crushing memory of the months leading up to this point. The obvious fading joy of his partner—the person who mattered to him more than life; the one who—for so long—had stopped smiling.

Starsky thought about their first kiss—a cautious longing spurred by grief over the death of Gillian. Starsky had wanted to tread gently, to safeguard his bond with Hutch. Yet, months later, when Hutch almost died except for the grace of a bulletproof vest—it became a force that was unstoppable, uncontrollable, and unapologetic. A whirlwind of relief and desire that left Starsky reeling, and believing that scattered moments of passion could be enough.

Until they weren’t.

Starsky lowered his arms and was awakened from his thoughts by the sound of the door.

“Hey, where have you been?” he asked as Hutch entered, a silver serving dish in his hands. Hutch had a smile on his face that took Starsky’s breath away.

Hutch rested the dish on Starsky’s lap, scooted to the other side of the bed, and crawled in beside him. He lifted the lid, put it on his head, and smiled.

Hutch made a joke about a short drunken orderly and they both laughed uncontrollably until Starsky’s body tingled; the coldness of the hospital, the medical equipment and antiseptic walls, Gunther’s cruel attack on his life, all dwarfed by the warmth of Hutch’s body next to him.

Starsky thought about the countless moments they had sought solace in each other’s arms, falling into bed with intense passion, each time brought on by narrow escapes that left no room for the outside world. His love, a force he could usually harness, became overwhelming on the days when pain or threat of death or injury loomed over them. Those were the days of the best love-making of his life, where emotions surged beyond the bounds of restraint.

Starsky balanced the silver dish with two hands, channeling his focus as he nestled his head into the crook of Hutch’s shoulder.

“Hutch, can we start over?”

Hutch removed the lid from his head and turned to face Starsky, his expression unreadable. “What are you saying?”

Starsky thought about the distance that had crept into their lives that year, the routine that was devoid of real connection. How skilled they had both become at maintaining the charade of normalcy. How willing they were to test each other; how he let a competition over a woman almost destroy them because the outside world’s opinion outweighed the fire that burned steadily in his heart.

He knew he couldn’t bear the charade for even one more day.

“I’m saying that I know this year was hard on both of us and that I’m sorry. The more I had to pretend what we had was enough, when I had to turn it on and off, the more frustrated and angry I got. The worst part was that you stopped smiling. It broke my heart and I feel like it was all my fault.”

Hutch shifted, his expression still confused. “Your fault? If anything, it was my fault. I’m the one who pulled back, who stopped communicating. I’m the one who thought going after Kira was the answer…”

Starsky put a finger over Hutch’s mouth. “It’s both our fault and it’s time to get real, Hutch. No more games. No more pretending. Enough is enough.”

Hutch’s face softened, and the lines of confusion on his forehead melted away. He trailed his fingers across Starsky’s cheek, his thumb tracing Starsky’s lips, priming them for a kiss.

“I couldn’t agree more. I don’t want anyone but you, I haven’t for a long long time.”

Starsky’s breath hitched, anticipating the sweetness of Hutch’s lips as they inched forward, the gap of indecision, of fear and doubt, sealing shut forever. Every kiss before this had been special, but this one—this kiss—Starsky would forever cherish like it was their first.

As Starsky reluctantly withdrew from Hutch’s lips, his voice trembled with raw emotion. “I want to live the rest of my life with you, Hutch.” The promise settled deep within him, taking root in certainty while everything else in his future was uncertain.

“We’re going to grow old, Starsk, together. You trust me, don’t you?”

‘Of course. Today and always.”

“Good,” Hutch replied, replacing the lid on top of his head. “Now eat your veal before Dobey gets here and devours it all.”

Starsky caught Hutch’s smile and returned it as he savored a bite. He said it warmed his heart, and indeed, it did.

That night, after the cold spray of the sprinklers drenched them; after the laughter and turmoil and Nurse Rippin’s stern words; after Hutch left a feather-light kiss on his lips and promised to be back first thing in the morning, Starsky finally closed his eyes, peace enveloping him.

The future could now unfold, a day at a time because the only part of his life that ever mattered was not going anywhere.

And that was all he would ever need.