I Mean to Tell You

It’s crazy I’m thinking
Just as long as you’re around
And here I’ll be dancing on the ground
Am I right side up or upside down
To each other we’ll be facing
By love we’ll beat back the pain we’ve found
You know
I mean to tell you all the things I’ve been thinking deep inside
My friend
With each moment the more I love you

—Crush

*~*~*

I wanted to blame him. Easy enough to do, ’cause Hutch wears guilt like a favorite shirt, and won’t let it go until it’s worn out. Usually I’d find a way to get him to drop it, but this time, I let him wear it for a long time.

I’d seen him jealous before, but not of me. I had a little bit of a power trip with it, having all his attention, but I didn’t forget we had a job to do at that dance club, and he did. Not that I helped him focus on it until we were yellin’ at each other about it all, not like I shoulda done. I put my finger in his face and he put his in mine. It wasn’t pretty.

I don’t know if I’d ever slammed out of his place before, but when that door banged behind me, I felt bad. Even though I knew I was right to say what I said.

I was just too late in the sayin’.

I tried to patch it up. Then I told him how I thought I felt about Kira. Man, even now, sayin’ her name is like fingernails on a chalkboard, y’know? Still, that SOB went right to her and fucked her. Pulled a fast one on me. Testing me, I guess. Pretty much broke me.

And when I saw him coming out of her room, all mussed up and tucking in his shirt, I saw that guilt again. God, I wanted to hurt him. I’ve NEVER wanted to hurt Hutch before, but I saw red and attacked him, right there in her hallway, hearing her yellin’ at us just as he was returning punch for punch.

Taught him everything he knows.

And Kira, that bitch, kicked us both out and then there we were, the three of us, tryin’ to work the case and be a team when we were barely talking to each other.

When that hand grenade blew and there she was, running to take care of that creep instead of one of us, I knew then that I’d really fucked up. Hutch looked at me across the room, and I couldn’t face him. Couldn’t look in those eyes that looked sadly at her and then at me. I hung my head and felt like shit.

When he knocked on my door that night, he looked about how I felt. We talked real quiet for a time, not quite apologizing, instead figuring a way to get back at Kira for her lies and the shit she’d dragged us both through. When he left, he looked like he was gonna say something more, but I just mock-punched him on the arm and closed the door.

I wasn’t ready to deal with his guilt yet. I still needed to deal with mine.

The scene at Huggy’s was satisfying enough, and having Hutch’s arm around me when we left felt really good, but we still had a long way to go. At work we were better, back to our easy way of knowing what each other was thinking when it came to a case. After work was the hardest, what with both of us trying to let the other take the lead. Sorta like that old movie where the guys are sayin’ “After you.” “No, after you.” “No, I insist, after you.”

That got real old real quick and we sorta fell into not doing anything together for a bit. I think we needed the space.

And then I called him, asked him if he wanted to pick up a pizza, I had beer, there was a game on tv.

And he said yes.

Getting drunk is a dangerous way to get someone talkin’, but it worked for us. We both had things to say and we said ’em. We wore out the rug walkin’ it, but we never yelled. We’d had enough of that, I think.

We cried, though. He probably wouldn’t like admittin’ that, but we did. A couple of “I love ya, buddy”‘s later and we saw our old road open again. Cried in our beers while we leaned against each other hard and it was like we were connected again. Cord and electric socket, you know? Together, we light up. Without each other, we’re powerless.

We worked on it a lot, and it was nice how we were able to fall back into our easy buddy patter again. Sometimes, though, one of us would say somethin’ and it’d bring us up short, but we just kinda looked at each other, blew a breath, and moved on.

But like I said, Hutch wears guilt a long time.

The hit is still kinda a blur. I remember falling down and Hutch standing there, starin’ at me. I could feel that something was really wrong and I tried to call him, wanted him to come talk to me, and he did, but I don’t remember anything he said.

When I woke up I saw him wearin’ that Hutch-hangdog look. But he was there. I was so damned glad he was the first thing I saw when I finally got my eyes open again.

I couldn’t move right away, but I could feel his hands on me, pettin’ and rubbin’ and just holdin’ me. Listening to him talk was like listenin’ to my favorite record, lettin’ it put me to sleep. His face lit up when I squeezed his hand—I’d tried for what seemed like a long time to move and that was the first thing I could do. It took longer to make my voice work, but it did. He said it was only a couple of days but it seemed a lot longer.

He thinks it’s his fault Gunther got me. He’s wearin’ that favorite shirt again.

I’ve got a lot to say to him.

~end