Hutch’s Holiday

Table of Contents

Hutch announces that he’s going to take a holiday, much to Starsky’s surprise and consternation. They usually take time off together. Why does Hutch feel the need to be alone? Starsky’s worried but wants to respect his friend’s right to privacy.

Alternating points of view. Set early in their partnership. Combines my three stories: Hutch Takes a Holiday; Hutch Needs A Holiday? Why?; and A Day at the Zoo.

Written and first published in 2020. My view of Hutch’s parents and Vanessa is probably influenced by a lot of fan fiction stories and I have come away from those ideas (particularly as regards Hutch’s parents) in more recent times but I liked this set of stories so I’ve left them alone. Hope you like them.

Part 1: Hutch Takes a Holiday

It’s Friday afternoon and our shift is nearly over. We’ve stopped for a coffee break and are sitting in Starsky’s car, watching the world go by. I can’t put it off any longer. Time to break the news. “Starsk.”

“Yeah.”

“I need a holiday…So I’m taking next week off. I’ve cleared it with Dobey. We haven’t got any big cases on at the moment. You can easily finish off the Harrison case yourself and after that Dobey said you can either go out with another pair of detectives or work on your own for a week. Whatever you prefer.”

Starsky turns to face me. “What?”

Repeating the information, I speak slowly, as if he’s stupid, deaf or both: “A holiday. Next week. Me.”

“I heard what you said, moron. I’m just wondering why you didn’t tell me before now. I could have booked the week off, too.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Sorry, didn’t think…This won’t stop us taking our week later in the year…It’s just I need a bit of time to myself. I need to recharge my batteries.”

Starsky drinks the last of his coffee and then frowns at me. “It’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? Something happen, I don’t know about?”

I want to say: “It’s not sudden. I planned this last weekend. We’ve been together every moment for six months, or at least that’s what it feels like. I need a break from you: from your constant humming; from your reciting poems and limericks; from you telling me useless facts at all hours of the day and night; and from you stinking up my car with sauerkraut and onions.”

Instead I say, “Just had enough of the domestic disturbances, the hypes, the assaults and the death. I just need a break from it all.”

Starsky shrugs, accepting my answer. “Okay, partner. ‘S long as you’re okay and nothing’s wrong. Want me to come over some evenings?”

“Er…I’m going to be out most days, don’t know what time I’ll be back.” Thinking on my feet, I add, “And I was thinking of going to Santa Barbara for a couple of days. I want to go to the Botanic Gardens there.”

“Oh.” Starsky wrinkles his nose. Looking at flowers is not his idea of a good time. “Well, hope you have fun. D’ya need me to water your plants while you’re gone?”

“Um…I’ll ask my neighbour to do it. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.”

Starsky gets out of the car and takes the trash to the bin and I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s never easy lying to Starsky. He knows me too well. It isn’t that I don’t love the guy but sometimes…sometimes I just need a break. Surely, he could do with a break from me too?

Starsky contacts Dispatch and signs us out and then drives me home. As he pulls up outside my place, he smiles at me and says, “Have a good week off, Blintz. Hope you get your batteries back up to full.”

“Thanks. I’m sure you’ll have a good week without me, too. I know I’ve been grumpy a lot recently.”

Starsky shrugs as if to say he hasn’t noticed. Maybe he hasn’t.

“Well, see you in a week.”

I shut the car door and step back.

Through the open window, Starsky calls out, “Bye,” and then speeds off.

Filled with a sudden sense of freedom, I take the steps up to my apartment, two at a time.

*****

I wake up on Saturday morning to brilliant sunshine pouring in the window and stretch out my stiff muscles with enjoyment. A whole week off. Peace and quiet, plants to see and buy, no Starsky. Fantastic.

Wonder what he’s going to do with his time away from me?

I’ve been thinking about visiting a nursery I’ve heard about. It’s in West Los Angeles. Maybe I should take advantage of the lovely day and get up and get going. Within half an hour, I’m out on the road, heading towards the edge of LA and the Hashimoto Nursery. It’s a family run business that’s been around forever and has a huge collection of different bamboo. Suddenly, I am reminded of Starsky reading out an interview with Bruce Lee to me while we were stuck on a stakeout. There was a quote of an old proverb Starsky liked: something about: “The stiffest tree is easily cracked while the bamboo survives by bending in the wind.”

I roll my eyes at myself. Even when he’s not here, I can hear him talking. I really do need this break.

The Hashimoto Nursey is beautiful: one of the most peaceful places I have ever been to. I lose track of time, sitting on a bench in the Zen garden, looking at the patterns in the gravel and the moss on the rocks. It’s living art and it talks to me. Starsky would hate the silence but he’d like the imagery, I’m sure. I potter for ages in the plant centre, um-ing and ah-ing between buying a bamboo or a bonsai tree. In the end, I plump for a golden bamboo.

The girl, who serves me, smiles prettily and says, “Hope you’ll visit us again.”

As I lay the bamboo carefully against the back seat, with its pot wedged behind the passenger seat, I say to Starsky, “She was pretty, wasn’t she? Think she liked me?”

Only then do I realise he’s not there to answer me.

I spend Sunday introducing my new bamboo to its home and deciding on a name for it. Bruce Lee keeps springing to mind so that’s what it ends up being called. Starsky would approve. I water and prune my other plants and enjoy sitting amongst them while I eat my dinner. It’s a restful day. I wonder if I could make a miniature Zen garden in here?

On Monday, I plan my trip to Santa Barbara and then go for a jog at the park. I think I see a red and white Torino going past the entrance to the park but the car’s gone before I can be sure. I hope it wasn’t Starsky: in case he gets miffed that I’m obviously still at home but haven’t asked him to meet for a beer or come round for a pizza. I don’t want him to know I’m avoiding him. I wouldn’t hurt his feelings for the world.

On the way to Santa Barbara, I keep seeing billboards advertising the Santa Barbara Zoo: the first one has a picture of colourful parrots and giraffes on it – Starsky loves parrots, I love giraffes; the second announces it’s the tenth anniversary of the zoo and visitors on Fridays in June get a free ice cream of their choice – Starsky loves a freebie; the third shows a picture of the 2ft narrow gauge railway going around the zoo – Starsky would be rubbing his hands in anticipation.

But he’s not here. This is my vacation. I have no need to go to the zoo. I’m going to the Botanic Gardens and I’m going to enjoy it, I remind myself.

And I do. The Botanic Garden is stunning. There’s an historic dam and aqueduct that were built in 1807 to supply water to the Santa Barbara Mission. As I walk around, I discover the Japanese Teahouse and Tea Garden and linger there for a good while; reminded of the Japanese nursery I went to on Saturday. As the day grows hotter, I walk through the Redwood grove and linger under the coolness of the trees. I find a little bench tucked away just off the main path and sit myself down to soak in the peace and quiet.

A piece of a poem by WH Auden walks through my mind:

As I listened from a beach-chair in the shade
To all the noises that my garden made,
It seemed to me only proper that words
Should be withheld from vegetables and birds.

It’s a slightly mournful poem and I don’t know why I’m thinking of it. I don’t feel mournful. I feel good, rested. I needed to find some peace and quiet and a time without words. My work is filled with words – hardly any of them pleasant – it’s nice to be away from them.

I don’t mind Starsky’s words really. It’s just sometimes I need some quiet. But once the quiet is finished with, it’s nice to talk about what you’ve done and what you’ve seen. It’s nice to share words with a friend.

Time is getting on as I make my way to the gift shop. I don’t intend on buying anything but a poster on the wall catches my eye. It’s of a tree silhouetted against a sinking sun and says:

Four things you can’t recover:
The STONE after the throw.
The WORD after it’s said.
The OCCASION after it’s missed.
The TIME after it’s gone.

For some reason my mind adds a fifth: The FRIENDSHIP after it’s lost.

When I get home, it’s getting late but I make the call anyway.

“Hello.”

“It’s me.”

“Hey, buddy. How’s the holiday going? Where ya been? What ya seen?”

“Lots. D’you want to come over and I’ll tell you about it over a beer?”

“Great. See you in fifteen.”

Fifteen minutes later, Starsky’s sitting on my sofa drinking beer and letting me tell him all about nurseries, plants and gardens he has no interest in. He does like the name of my new bamboo though.

“So I was wondering,” I say cautiously, “Do you think Dobey would let you have Friday off as it’s not that busy at work?”

“Already booked,” Starsky informs me.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I figured you’d never last a week without me. So where are we going?”

I open my mouth to protest that I have been doing just fine without him and then close it and shake my head.

“I wondered if you’d like to go to the Santa Barbara Zoo. It’s their tenth anniversary and they’re offering a free ice cream to visitors on Fridays, they’ve got parrots and giraffes, and there’s a narrow gauge train. What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect.”

I don’t know if perfect is the right word to describe Starsky. He can be intensely annoying but I wouldn’t change him for anything so I guess that’s close enough to perfect for me.

Part 2: Hutch Needs a Holiday? Why?

I don’t really like quiet. People think it’s because I’m a talker but that’s not it. I can be quiet – I just don’t like it.

In ‘Nam, if it was quiet, you knew death was just around the corner. So I talk to fill the silence, to feel safe. The only person I can stand to be quiet around is Hutch ‘cause he makes me feel safe anyway.

But I like talking with him, too. He’s such an interesting guy when he’s not in a bad mood. I don’t blame him when he gets grouchy. You would get grouchy too, if you’d been through what he has.

There’s his upbringing for a start. His parents. Well, they sound like they want everything to be perfect and done in a specific way. People ain’t perfect, as far as I know, and people don’t come out of moulds. People need to be what they want to be but that’s not how his parents see it so he’s a disappointment to them. I mean, Hutch, a disappointment? They gotta be crazy, right?

Then there’s his ex-wife, Vanessa. Don’t get me started on her. She’s a right nasty piece of work and as shallow as they come. She wants to put people in boxes too. Only Hutch wanted to lift the lid so she tried to put him back in. I think Hutch did good to escape her. But he don’t see it like that. He sees it as a failure on his part.

So, sometimes, I talk: to reassure him that I don’t think he’s a failure; to make it clear I don’t think he’s a disappointment; and to let him know that I couldn’t do better for a friend. I think, one day soon, he’ll start to believe me. These things take time and we ain’t known each other that long.

Trouble is: Hutch likes quiet. Actually, he needs quiet. He needs it to get his equilibrium back, especially after some of the things we see on the job, but he thinks he needs to be alone a lot and I think he’s wrong.

Everybody needs some alone time, I’ll give him that, but he doesn’t need to be alone for too long. It’s a fine line with him. No peace and quiet: he goes a bit bonkers. Too much time alone: he starts dwelling on his perceived failures and gets down. His family has a lot to answer for, if you ask me. I don’t know much about parenting but ain’t you supposed to build your children up, give ’em confidence? Not tear ‘em down any chance you get.

So with Hutch I have to juggle what he thinks he needs and what I think he needs: giving him space sometimes but making sure he doesn’t get lonely.

He’s been a bit grouchy this week. I think it was his Mom’s birthday on Tuesday and that’s probably the reason. I bet he called home. It’s about the only time he does and he probably got an earful for his trouble, so I understand it. I reckon he won’t want to go out tonight and I’m prepared for him to say he’s going to stay in when he suddenly says:

His speech is said in a nervous rush that instantly makes me suspicious. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I look at him, trying to fathom what’s going on behind the speech. There’s always something going on in the background with Hutch. He’s like a deep pool: most people only see the calm surface but there’s a lot going on underneath, believe me. That’s why I have to listen and look so carefully.

“What?”

He does his pretending he’s dealing with an idiot thing. Standard operating procedure when he’s trying to hide something from me.

“A holiday. Next week. Me.”

“I heard what you said, moron. I’m just wondering why you didn’t tell me before now. I could have booked the week off, too.”

I sound grumpy to my own ears, which is not want I meant to do, but a man has his limits and he knows just how to push my buttons to stop me listening. Well, it’s not happening: I am going to work out what’s really going on. He makes up some lame excuse for keeping me in the dark.

“Sorry, didn’t think…This won’t stop us taking our week later in the year…It’s just I need a bit of time to myself. I need to recharge my batteries.”

‘Recharge my batteries.’ That’s code for I have reached the end of my tether. Did his mother say something? Has something happened? Have I done something to upset him? I probe to try to get the answer.

“It’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? Something happen, I don’t know about?”

He looks guilty. He’s obviously been thinking about this for a while but then he blames the job and that rings true. I know the job gets him down. It sounds like he needs space to get back on an even keel. I can work with that.

“Okay, partner.” I’m quick to reassure that I know he needs the space and quiet he’s always after. “‘S long as you’re okay and nothing’s wrong. Want me to come over some evenings?”

I make the offer because I know too much time alone just isn’t good for him but he dodges my offer and says he might not be at home. Is that true or is he just trying to avoid me and what he calls my mother-henning?

I offer to water his plants but it’s turned down. Okay, this is going to be tricky. How am I going to make sure he doesn’t spend too long on his own?

I get out of the car and take the trash to the bin so he won’t see the worry on my face. By the time I come back to the car, I’m calm. It’s clear he needs some time alone and I need to let him have it. I reckon he’ll realise he needs some company by Tuesday, at the latest.

I let Dispatch know we’re off duty and drop him home. He looks relieved, as he gets out of the car, and I know I’ve made the right choice. He really does just need some space. But I’ll be ready for when he’s had enough of the quiet.

*****

On Monday, I get to work and go straight in to see Dobey and ask if I can have Friday off. He grumbles about it but says, “Yes,” after only a little persuading. I go out to get a witness statement for the Harrison case and drive past the park. I see Hutch jogging and hope he doesn’t see me. I don’t want him to think I’m checking up on him but I’m pleased to see he’s out and not at home brooding.

I’ve just settled down to watch a movie on Tuesday night when the phone goes. Pity I didn’t make a bet with Huggy about when Hutch would ring. I was right and I’d have made a mint. I let the phone ring for four beats then I pick up.

“It’s me.”

I try not to sound as if I’m smirking. “Hey, buddy. How’s the holiday going? Where ya been? What ya seen?”

“Lots. D’you want to come over and I’ll tell you about it over a beer?”

He sounds good – at peace with himself – and he wants to see me so he must be feeling better.

“Great. See you in fifteen,” I say.

As I sit on his sofa and drink my beer, I can’t help smiling at his bright face. He tells me all about his trip to the Botanic Gardens, which sounds okay, if you like plants. I do like the name of his new bamboo. Wonder why he came up with that name?

He’s asking me something. I tune back in.

“Do you think Dobey would let you have Friday off as it’s not that busy at work?”

Time to remind him that I know him better than he thinks I do.

“Already booked,” I say.

“Really?”

He seems surprised but he shouldn’t be.

“Yeah. I figured you’d never last a week without me,” I inform him. “So where are we going?”

He shakes his head and then says: “I wondered if you’d like to go to the Santa Barbara Zoo. It’s their tenth anniversary and they’re offering a free ice cream to visitors on Fridays, they’ve got parrots and giraffes, and there’s a narrow gauge train. What do you think?”

What can I say? All the things I like but all the things he likes too. We’ll have a blast. It sounds perfect.

Hutch ain’t nowhere near perfect but who is? I read something the other day: “A best friend is somebody who knows every last thing about you, yet still manages to like you anyway.”

So I guess that’s the thing. I know him outside-in and he knows me inside-out and we still like each other. Guess that’s why we’re best friends.

Part 3: A Day at the Zoo

Starsky POV

It’s a Friday morning and I pick Hutch up early, not because we’re going to work, but because we’re going to the Santa Barbara Zoo and we want to make a day of it. Hutch has had the whole week off because he needed to ‘recharge his batteries’ and I can see it’s done him good. He’s much more relaxed – more ‘smiley Hutch’, which is my favourite kind of Hutch in the world – not that I don’t like the other kind of Hutches too. It’s like the sea – it’s got multiple moods and looks and they are all fascinating but…the sea sparkling on a sunny day, well, that’s the best sight there is.

So we both got today off and Hutch suggested going to the Santa Barbara Zoo and it sounded like a great idea to me so here we are on our way to see all the animals we like and have a train ride, too. What could be better?

Hutch POV

Starsky’s here bright and early to pick me up for our trip to the zoo and I can see he’s excited, like a little kid going for a day out with his parents. That’s one of things I love about Starsky – that child-like innocence that he’s managed to hold onto, despite all the horrors he’s seen. Sometimes, I wish I was more like him. Maybe the kind of adult you are comes down to how much love you were shown in your first few years as a child. I know Starsky’s home wasn’t rich in many things but it was rich in love and he’s an adult brimming over with love for other people and life.

I love watching him enjoy the simplest things – can’t wait to see him when he gets to ride the train. I know he’s going to love it.

Starsky POV

First thing we do when we arrive at the Zoo is check what time the train is running and plan our visit to fit around the timetable. We decide we’ll ride the train last thing. The Zoo is laid out real nice with lawns and a lake and the train runs around the edge of the whole site. As we walk round we catch glimpses of it going past, full of happy kids.

We make our way to see the big cats and then on to the rainforest passage, which is amazing. I could watch parrots for hours. I tell Hutch everything I know about the sub species Macaws and he nods as if he’s interested. I don’t know why I love Macaws so much, particularly the Scarlet Macaws. They just appeal to me. Hutch indulges me and we stay there for ages just watching the birds coming and going, the life-long pairings preening each other then suddenly taking flight in a large group. He finally drags me away with the promise of lunch – his treat – and we make our way to the café.

Hutch POV

Starsky loves parrots, or more specifically Scarlet Macaws. Actually, he reminds me of a Scarlet Macaw. If I said that out loud, people would misunderstand me as they so often do. They’d think I mean he’s loud, bright, noisy, colourful, flashy – like when he’s going out on a date and wants to impress – and, yes, he is all those things and, on the surface, that could be the reason why but that’s not it. It’s because they keep their family units close and they are unfailingly loyal and that’s Starsky. If you’re lucky enough to be invited into his family unit, you’re there for life. I don’t know why he let me in but I’m glad he did.

We watch the Macaws for ages until I finally manage to prise Starsky away by offering to buy lunch.

Starsky POV

We’ve reached the giraffe enclosure and lean up against the wooden railing to watch the group of tall animals going about their day. A mother leans down and gently licks her little one with her long prehensile tongue. It’s incredibly cute and kinda awe-inspiring. I look across at my partner and see his face shining, totally enraptured by the sight. It’s good to see him so happy.

Sometimes, he reminds me of a giraffe. People at the station would probably think it’s because he’s tall, a bit gangly looking and tends to look down on things but that’s not it. It’s because under a tough exterior there’s a gentle heart that bleeds for the hurts of others and then there’s the way he is with kids, too – calm, quiet and so incredibly, gentle.

And another thing, giraffes ain’t nature’s fighters but, you go for one of the herd, you’ll soon regret it. Those long necks can pack a powerful wallop. They’re peace loving but kinda scary when provoked…and that’s Hutch.

We stay there for ages, just watching these graceful giant animals, and then I remind him we haven’t collected our free ice cream yet and he lets me drag him away.

Hutch POV

Giraffes hardly make a sound. They are the quietest of all the animals and that’s one of the reasons they appeal to me. I could watch them for hours and never get bored. They don’t say much and they appear to be content. I like their long tongues reaching up high, around the sharpest thorns to get at the juiciest leaves that provide nutrition and water; their friendly, uncomplicated eyes; the way they see the world from up above and don’t feel the need to comment on it. I wish I could be more like a giraffe.

Like a giraffe there is a lot I don’t say. Unfortunately, what I do say doesn’t always come out right. Thankfully, Starsky can read my mind…and more importantly he hears what my heart is trying to say when I can’t put it into the right words. So it doesn’t matter when I say the wrong thing or the opposite of what I really mean. He gets me and, coming from a family that never did, that’s a blessing.

Starsky lets me watch the giraffes for ages before he starts to whine about missing out on our free ice cream. With one last look, I bid goodbye to these superbly graceful creatures and allow him to lead me to the nearest ice cream stand where he buys bubble-gum flavour – yuk – and I choose vanilla. He makes me have chocolate sauce on it and, as usual, he’s right – vanilla is enhanced by a dash of chocolate.

Starsky POV

We wait until the last ride of the day to take our turn on the train. Lots of the families have started heading home so there aren’t too many people on it. The loco today is the red one, which is great. My favourite colour. It’s a two foot narrow gauge railway so the driver sits behind the tiniest of engines, pulling carriages which are just big enough to hold two thin adults side by side in each section. As there are fewer people riding it at this time of day, we manage to grab the last two compartments – Hutch sits in one and I sit behind him. The train chugs around the site taking in the view of the lake, coming quite close to the elephant enclosure and back past the giraffes. Hutch leans out as far as he can to take one last look at the beautiful creatures and then sits back with a sigh. I am overcome with the urge to hug my very own giraffe and lean forward and wrap my arms around him.

“Thanks for a great day, pal.”

His initial reaction is to go rigid and then he relaxes. We’ve only been partners for around a year and he still seems surprised when I hug him. I don’t reckon he’s had enough hugs in his life and I’m trying to make up for it.

“You’re welcome, goof ball,” he says, turning his head to give me a beatific smile.

After a minute, he gets this solemn look and says, “Sorry I was so grouchy last week. I didn’t mean anything I said.”

“I know that,” I reassure him. I don’t know whether to press him or not but dare a question. “Your Mom say something when you rang her for her birthday?”

He looks away but leans into my hug.

“She asked me what I was going to do when I finished playing cops and robbers. Like I’m a kid who still hasn’t grown up. She just doesn’t understand a thing about me or what I want to do.”

The hurt is clear in his voice and I squeeze him harder. “You can’t choose your family…that’s what people say, isn’t it? Don’t pay no mind to her.”

Hutch sighs then says, “Thank God you can choose your friends, buddy. I’d be lost without you.”

I let him go and sit back as we arrive back at the tiny station and then disembark. We watch the driver uncouple the locomotive and drive round to the back of the carriages to re-attach the couplings and then pull the carriages off to the sheds for night. The zoo is closing up, our day is over and we make our way back to my car in contented silence.

On the way home, we turn the radio on and listen to the songs being played, finding ourselves singing along to one or two favourites. A few times, I just hum and let Hutch do the singing ‘cause I like listening to his voice.

I guess he can’t really be like a giraffe because he’s not silent, he sings.

I think about this for a bit and decide he’s more like an American Robin. They got those beautiful songs, like all members of the thrush family, and they have that charming way they move around that makes them fascinating to watch. They also have periods of silence, over the winter, and then burst out into song again, heralding the spring. Yeah, that’s my Hutch – a cross between a robin and a giraffe. The thought of what that creature might look like makes me chuckle.

Hutch looks at me and asks, “What?”

I lay my arm across his shoulders and say, “Just thinking about what a fun day we’ve had. Thanks for suggesting the zoo. It was t’rriffic.”

He beams with pleasure at my approval of his choice before returning to his singing. I listen and think that any day out with my best friend is the best day in the world. Doesn’t matter where we go or what we do – as long as we can enjoy it together, that’s what makes it special.