Happy Enough

Starsky realizes happiness is right in front of him, especially when Hutch smiles.

Set during the tag of “Lady Blue.”

Part 1: Always Enough Series

Starsky pushed his plate aside and wiped his mouth with the napkin he had spread across his lap. “That meal hit the spot, Hutch. You must have received excellent instruction from my mother because your version of the Paul Muni special is nearly as good as hers.”

Starsky wanted to say more, about how much Hutch had helped with his grief, but the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to say things like how good a cook Hutch was, and how great a friend he was for even bothering to cook for him at all. He wanted to thank Hutch for going above and beyond when he called Starsky’s mother to get the recipe for his favorite meal. He wanted to say things like how Hutch’s hair looked impossibly blond against his yellow sweater and that his blue eyes gleamed in the candlelight, lending immeasurable warmth to the room.

Instead, Starsky brushed all the thoughts away with well-honed precision and patted his stomach, offering Hutch an appreciative look.

He was rewarded by Hutch’s beaming smile. “You’re welcome, partner,” Hutch said softly.

Hutch reached around the flickering candles and refilled both of their wine glasses. The red liquid swirled around Hutch’s glass as he raised it to his mouth, his gaze lowered as he seemed to inhale the intoxicating bouquet. Hutch swallowed, nodding with a look of pleasure, whether due to the wine’s smooth taste or its relaxing effects, Starsky wasn’t sure.

Starsky held up his glass in cheers and took a long gulp, enjoying the sensation of the liquid that warmed his insides, clouding his mind against his mounting emotions. He felt saddened by Helen’s death, but it was more than that. It was a step beyond mourning, an entry to a shadowy place that Starsky rarely visited, where the fear of being alone and unhappy brewed deep inside him.

Starsky shook his head as he tried to control his melancholy. “I doubt I could have made her happy, even if we got a second chance. We wanted different things,” he said as he took another sip of wine.

Hutch frowned and leaned back, his knees at table height as his body pressed against the back of the chair. He drained his drink before breaking the silence.

“If you ask me, it’s not up to someone else to make another person happy.”

Starsky wrinkled his nose, considering Hutch’s words. “What do you mean?” he asked without judgment. “What do you know about it?”

“Not much, just what I’ve learned, the hard way. Happiness is not a destination; it’s a state of mind, a choice that you can make only for yourself.”

Starsky served a crooked grin. “Here I thought it was Reader’s Digest in your john. Have you been reading Budda books in there too?”

“Something like that,” Hutch returned a chuckle, then paused with a somber expression. “She had a beautiful smile, Starsk. That’s what you should try to remember, not how it ended between you, but her beautiful smile, like the sunset.”

Hutch set his empty glass on the table and stood up. He started stacking the dirty plates and cutlery, squeezing Starsky’s shoulder as he headed to the kitchen.

Starsky felt the tension in his throat dissolve, liberating the words he had been holding hostage and that demanded escape. “You’re the best thing in my life, Hutch. I think your smile is even more beautiful than Helen’s, do you know that? Better, than anyone else’s too, if I’m honest. If you keep smiling, I feel like everything’s going to be okay.”

Hutch was facing the counter, with his back to Starsky. He stopped piling dishes and slumped against the sink, lowering his head between his drooping shoulders as silence fell over the room.

“I can’t smile all the time, Starsk.”

Starsky frowned and sprang from his chair, knowing Hutch didn’t grasp what he meant. He stepped toward Hutch and hesitated, wishing he could reach out and relieve the strain he could see in Hutch’s defeated posture.

“I know, that’s not what I meant. What I mean is I feel happy when you smile. I don’t know if this makes sense, but it helps my happiness, and my state of mind when I know you’re happy. Is there anything wrong with that?”

Hutch swung around. His face was flushed as though he was experiencing the same intense heat that Starsky felt all night. “No, nothing wrong with that, as long as I don’t make you unhappy on the days when the smile isn’t there.”

Starsky closed the gap and took his final step towards Hutch. They were almost touching, near enough to rub elbows, shake hands, or smell each other’s wine-flavored breath. There was no more than an inch between their chests, Starsky’s rapid breathing matching the shallow breaths that Hutch failed to conceal. Starsky’s brain registered a flutter of desire as he realized they were close enough to kiss, quickly dismissing the feeling with finely tuned practice.

“It would be very, very, very tough for you to make me unhappy, Hutch. If you have a bad day, or don’t feel like smiling, I would be concerned or worried, but not unhappy. A wise person told me just a few minutes ago that we can’t rely on anyone else for happiness, right?”

Hutch shook his head, and Starsky detected the hint of a smile. “Right.” He squeezed Starsky’s elbow, not moving from his spot. “What happened to Helen was terrible, and maybe she wasn’t the one for you, but trust me, the right person does exist. Don’t give up, you’ll see that I’m right, one day.”

Starsky looked at his shoes, hoping to hide his heaving chest, avoiding Hutch’s eyes as he tried to escape the intense pull from that ocean of blue.

“Okay. One day. What about in the meantime?” Starsky couldn’t bring himself to look up, reveling in Hutch’s lingering squeeze on his arm.

“In the meantime, whatever makes you happy today, hold onto it with everything you’ve got.”

Starsky felt his face ignite with heat as lifted his gaze and saw Hutch’s blushed cheeks glowing under the bright lights of the kitchen. He detected something in Hutch’s eyes, a promise to be fulfilled, waiting only for the right moment. It resembled unripened fruit that, if given time and allowed to mature on the vine, would ultimately peak and bear its promised sweetness. Starsky ignored the customary urge to push the thoughts away, letting them inhabit his increasingly sober mind.

Hutch was the first to break eye contact, turning to fill the sink with water.

“I’ll wash, you dry,” Hutch said.

With a blink, Starsky felt his world shift into focus.

“Is that how you treat a guest, make them work?” Starsky teased as he picked up a dish towel.

“Since when are you a guest?” Hutch raised his voice over the running water. “It’s not like I keep root beer in the fridge for anybody.”

Hutch glanced up from the sudsy water and grinned. Starsky knew the day would never come when Hutch’s smile didn’t make him happy.

“Hey, didn’t you say you had a date tonight?” Starsky asked as he placed the plates in the cupboard.

Hutch didn’t look up from the pot he was scrubbing. “You missed a spot,” Hutch replied, ignoring the question.

Starsky tried to suppress a grin. No one could know the future, but Starsky realized there was no reason to fear it. Like a fine wine, his bond with Hutch would only grow stronger with time, yielding tomorrow’s most prize-worthy vintage.

No matter how it came, with Hutch in his life, happiness could be right there, every day.

That was not just enough, it was everything.