Four Christmases

113

Starsky never knew what presents Hutch would give. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure they were presents until much later.

 

Post date: 12/23/2022

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1. Uniform

They were in uniform, working with their training officers in different precincts—Starsky at Metro and Hutch in the warehouse district. Even so, they always made time to get together for a beer at least once a week.

Most times it wasn’t for more than an hour or so because Hutch was still with Vanessa, who Starsky had dubbed the Ice Queen, and she complained enough about Hutch’s job. He didn’t want to cause any more problems in what was quite obviously a problematic marriage.

They were at old man Demming’s bar—the one Huggy Bear was going to buy when Demming either retired or kicked the bucket.

“You did what?”

“I said I’d work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Double shifts.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Starsky took a long swig of his beer. “You nuts or something?”

“There’s a lot of guys in my precinct have little kids, Starsk. Dads should be home with their kids on Christmas if they can.”

Hutch looked at him with those guileless blue eyes that had mesmerized Starsky from the first time he’d met Ken Hutchinson a couple of years before. He sounded so reasonable. It made Starsky feel like a heel for not offering the same. But damn it, this was the first Christmas he’d have off since they graduated from the Academy.

“And what does the Ice Queen have to say about that?” Starsky saw the twitch at the corner of Hutch’s left eye at the mention of Vanessa. That was new. He added it to the list of things he wanted to fix in Hutch’s life.

Hutch shrugged. “Can’t say much. I’m a cop. I work holidays and long hours.”

Starsky was sure there was more to the story than that, but he kept his mouth shut. Lately any time they got together for a meal or drink, the name Vanessa brought a frown and a tightening of Hutch’s shoulders. He wished Hutch wouldn’t be so close mouthed about it.

“Yeah.” Starsky finished his beer. He tried to think of a safer subject. “What’d you get her for Christmas?”

“It won’t be enough,” Hutch said. He pushed his beer away. “Never is any more.”

“Hutch?” Starsky said. He reached across the table, put his hand over his friend’s. “I’m sorry things aren’t going great.”

Hutch gave a half-hearted smile. “We’ll work it out.”

Hutch got up from the table after downing his beer and his burger. Starsky wished they had more than a short hour to spend together.

“Merry Christmas, Hutch,” Starsky said.

Hutch nodded and smiled. “Merry Christmas, Starsk.” Then he paused. “You’re Jewish.”

Starsky grinned up at him. “Not practicing. And Uncle Al is Catholic while Aunt Rose is Jewish. So…” He held up his hands pretending they were balancing weights.

“Yeah.” Hutch took a few steps away and then snapped his fingers. He turned back. “Oh I almost forgot. I put in a transfer to Metro. I start there the day after Christmas.” He smiled his wide smile—the one Starsky remembered from their Academy days.

“Merry Christmas, Hutch.” Starsky watched him walk away and thought he might have just gotten the best Christmas present ever.

 

2. Detective First Year

“Hutch? What are you doing here? You wanna come in?” Starsky held open the door to his Aunt Rose and Uncle Al’s house—the annual Christmas open house in full swing.

Hutch shook his head. “Got a call, Starsk. Dobey called us both in, but he kept getting a busy signal here.”

“Aunt Rose unplugged the phone,” Starsky said. “Give me a second to say bye and grab my jacket.”

By the time he got out of the house, complete with pats on the cheek and a few kisses, Hutch was pacing.

“You’ll have to drive,” Hutch said. “My car…I had to take a taxi here.”

“Break down again?” Starsky asked as they got in the Mustang he’d bought when he made detective. There were advantages to being the nephew of a car dealer.

“Not exactly,” Hutch said. He stared out the window. Then he shook his head and faced Starsky. “Murder in the MacMurran building.”

Starsky let out a whistle. “Fancy place. I shoulda wore my penguin suit.”

“You don’t have a tux, Starsk,” Hutch said. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, a habit Starsky had become very familiar with. It meant either Hutch was thinking or he was worried about something.

Later, Starsky thought. We’ll talk about it later.

They arrived at the MacMurran building to find one Guilford MacMurran, lawyer to the rich and famous, dead. One of the uniforms gestured to a woman wearing an evening gown sitting in a chair in the outer office.

“Mrs. MacMurran?” Hutch’s voice was soft, gentle, the way it got when he was questioning a witness. “You want to tell us what you found?”

She looked up at them both. Starsky thought he’d never seen eyes so cold and dispassionate.

“What I found was my husband screwing his newest secretary. He told me he needed to work late.” She opened her evening bag to search for what Starsky guessed was a handkerchief. “I waited until she left.”

He patted his own pockets but Hutch already was reaching out with one of his own.

Starsky caught a glimpse of the small handgun just a fraction of a second before Hutch did. His own Berreta was in his hand before she had it totally out of the bag.

“Put the gun down, Mrs. MacMurran.”

“I’m not going to shoot either of you,” she said as if she were discussing the latest fashion news. “I just wanted to give you the murder weapon.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Hutch said. Starsky thought his voice sounded just the slightest bit wobbly.

“Do you know what I got for Christmas this year, gentlemen?” Mrs. MacMurran asked as they took her down in the elevator, handcuffed. “A divorce. The bastard told me he wanted a divorce.”

They handed her off to one of the uniforms for transport and headed towards Metro themselves.

“What’s going on, Hutch?” Starsky asked.

The light from the dash illuminated Hutch’s pale face.

“I got the same Christmas present Mrs. MacMurran did,” Hutch finally said. He shrugged his shoulders.

Starsky was grateful for the red light. It gave him time to really look at Hutch. He had noticed the scratches on the back of Hutch’s neck earlier, the tinge of a bruise along one cheekbone. “You’re serious.”

“Why would I joke about something like that? You knew we weren’t getting along.” Hutch leaned his head against the window. “Light’s green.”

“Yeah.”

What did you say to your best friend when a divorce was in the works? Especially when you thought he was going to be much better off without her.

“Can you drop me off at Saint Andrew’s Mission after?” Hutch asked.

“You’re staying there?” Starsky asked. “You know you can stay on my couch until you get a place.”

“I’m not staying there, dummy,” Hutch said with exaggerated patience. “I’m helping them hand out Christmas baskets and I said I’d get there early.”

Starsky drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a second. “You think they could use an extra pair of hands?”

The grin he got in return was enough of an answer.

 

3: The Ramos’ Family

A tree? What kind of a gift was a tree? Just what had turned Hutch into a Scroogy Grinch this year? Who gave someone a tree for Christmas unless they were planting one in their backyard or something like that?

Starsky tried very hard to not look disappointed at the certificate he held. At least he’d put some thought into his present for Hutch.

But Molly/Pete’s and Kiko’s happiness couldn’t keep him down for long. He got up to get a drink from the kitchen and stopped when he heard Mrs. Ramos and Hutch talking.

Hutch’s hands folded over hers while she cried and laughed at the same time.

“It’s too much, Ken,” she said.

“I want to do it for the kids. Please. You know I’ll never have any of my own,” Hutch said. “Think of it as an investment in the future, Rosa.”

Starsky slipped back to the sofa and started talking to Pete about baseball and put his arm over Hutch’s shoulders when he came back to sit with them.

It was only in the summer he found out how wonderful a tree could be. Terry had been dead for months, and there were days that he still felt lost. Days when even being around Hutch wasn’t enough to bring him out of despair.

It would have been Terry’s birthday. He found himself in the park and wandered over to a small grove of trees.

He ran his hand over the smooth bark of a birch. Birds chirped overhead despite it being mid-day and there was the hum of insects. Terry would have loved it.

It had been a rough year—for him and for Hutch. Maybe the tree had been to remind both of them that life went on. That green and growing things would be around long after they were gone.

Starsky blinked back tears and kept walking.

 

Christmas 1979

His apartment was quiet except for the sound of Hutch doing the dishes after their Christmas dinner of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. Starsky ate every bite, and the smile Hutch gave him still warmed him.

Starsky looked at the small tree Hutch had bought, decorated with lights and some ornaments Hutch found at a garage sale. Except for the tree, it was hard to remember it was Christmas Day.

“They’re all done.” Hutch came in the living room, sat on the sofa next to him, bumping his knee into Starsky’s.

Starsky leaned into the touch—the way he found himself doing more and more since May. For so long, he worried they were losing their friendship, losing each other, but the shooting, horrific as it had been, brought them even closer.

“You really were okay with not going anywhere?” Hutch asked. His eyes looked bluer than ever. “I thought peace and quiet might be nice.”

“Peace and quiet is perfect,” Starsky said. He rested his head on Hutch’s shoulder because it felt right and comfortable. Hutch brought up his hand, rubbed his thumb on the back of Starsky’s neck.

“Gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that,” Starsky said as he closed his eyes.

“Mmm hmm,” Hutch said. Starsky wondered if Hutch would do the same.

A thought hit him then—he’d forgotten in the normalcy of the day, their routine so, well, routine, that Christmas day seemed like any other in a long string of days. “I’ll be right back.”

Starsky got up and made his slow way to the bedroom. He pulled the wrapped box from the nightside table, from the drawer Hutch never touched. Huggy had taken him shopping one day after his physical therapy—and although Hutch never asked why Starsky was so exhausted, he never pushed for an answer either.

“I forgot,” Starsky said as he sat back down and held the package out to Hutch.

“Ah, Starsky. I thought we agreed on no gifts.” Hutch stroked his hand over the package.

“I needed to do something,” Starsky said. “For everything you’ve…” He stopped before his emotions gave him away.

“I don’t have anything for you.” Hutch didn’t raise his eyes from the gift. “You asked for a quiet day. That was easy enough.”

Starsky shook his head. “You give the best presents, Hutch. You know that?”

Hutch let out an uncharacteristic snort. “Yeah. Sure.”

“You just didn’t know you were giving them. You give yourself. Ain’t many people can say that. C’mon. Open it. For me.”

“If you start batting your eyelashes, I’m gonna puke.” Hutch rolled his eyes even as he began to tear the wrapping paper.

Hutch laughed as he saw the gift—a mechanical pencil and small notebook.

“I figure you need one since I’m not there to let you borrow mine.”

Starsky watched as Hutch’s fingers stilled, as his body tensed as it still did so often.

“You’ll make it back, Starsk. I know you will.” Hutch’s voice was hoarse as if he’d gotten a sudden cold.

Starsky covered Hutch’s hands with his. “With you believing in me, I think I will.”

Hutch looked at him, an expression Starsky couldn’t quite read. “Starsk.”

He moved his hand to cup Starsky’s cheek.

He could stay this way forever, Starsky thought as he closed his eyes. Safe. He’d always been and would be safe in Hutch’s hands.

Then Hutch’s lips brushed over his, soft, warm, tasting of coffee and wine.

“Damn.”

Starsky’s eyes flew open when Hutch pulled back.

“Sorry. I don’t know what…I didn’t mean…”

“You’d better let me get a better taste of you than that,” Starsky said as he tugged on Hutch’s shirt and pulled him back in to continue the kiss.

“I love you,” Hutch murmured against his skin. “I’ve loved you since forever.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t want no one night stands with you,” Starsky said back. “Why’d it take us so long to admit it, huh?” He began to unbutton Hutch’s shirt, slide his hands on the smooth skin of Hutch’s chest.

And then the doorbell rang and there was a knocking at the door and a voice Starsky knew all too well.

“Mom?” he whispered as he began to pull himself together while Hutch hastily rebuttoned buttons.

“Merry Christmas?” Hutch laughed half-heartedly. “And Happy Hanukkah even though it’s past first night.”

“I’m coming, Ma,” Starsky yelled as he got to his feet.

He limped to the door and was enveloped in a hug of rose-scented perfume.

“Davey. Oh my Davey.”

Hutch appeared beside him, grabbed suitcases, and pulled them both inside the door.

“Surprise.” Hutch’s voice sounded a bit weak.

“You did this for me?” Starsky asked. He kept his arm around his mom’s shoulders.

“He called me back in September,” his mom said. “Told me he wanted to give you the best Christmas and Hanukkah gift he could.”

“Did he now?” Starsky narrowed his eyes. “No gifts?”

Hutch shrugged. “Not really. Nothing to open.”

“Oh, I can think of something to open,” Starsky said with a smug grin.

Hutch turned red, just the way he knew he would and then cleared his throat.

“Esther, how about I show you to your room?” Hutch said as he picked up her suitcases.

“Thank you, Kenneth,” she said and followed, talking all the way.

Starsky watched them walk down the short hall to the small bedroom Hutch had used for all these months. He guessed Hutch and he were going to have to share Starsky’s bed for the duration of his mom’s visit. Maybe Hutch’s present had been as much for Hutch as for him.

He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He looked forward to unwrapping Hutch tonight. Best present ever.