Mismatched

233

Starsky is struggling with Hutch’s recent news. It’s time they sorted it all out.

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“Come in, it’s open.” Hutch’s faint voice echoed through the apartment door. Starsky hesitated for a moment, then turned the knob and entered, shutting the door behind him.

As he stood in the doorway, he scanned the apartment where he spent so much of his time. A place where he laughed, cried, ate, drank, sang, danced, slept, and, far too often, played both nurse and patient. He knew every painting on the wall, every plant in the greenhouse, and every dusty photo frame on the piano like it was his own. It was the place where his heart belonged.

He tried to ignore the growing pit in his stomach as he surveyed the open cupboards, cardboard boxes, and clothing scattered about the room.

“Since when do you knock? And hi.” Hutch asked as he emerged from the bedroom carrying an overflowing basket of loose socks.

“Didn’t want to barge in if you had company. And hi yourself.” Starsky shrugged off his jacket and flung it over the couch where he sat.  He jerked his chin towards Hutch’s heaping load and asked, “Are you in the middle of packing, or are you finally getting around to darning all your socks?”

Hutch released the contents into the middle of the couch next to Starsky. “I’m both packing and cleaning. Most of these socks are probably full of holes or have long been without a mate. And what do you mean in case I had company? I’m not the one with a steady girlfriend right now.”

Starsky picked up a sock and inserted his hand inside, rotating his wrist back and forth to check for holes. “I thought maybe you and Samantha would have a farewell night together. Guess I was wrong.” He tossed the dirty white sock into a newly created throw-out pile on the coffee table.

“No, when I ended it with Samantha, I ended it,” Hutch reminded him, leaning on the sofa.

“I know, but it’s only been two weeks since you broke it off. You dated her for almost eight months, and I thought you might see her one more time. She was one of my favorite nurses, and I would have asked her out myself if it wasn’t so obvious she was holding out for you. It took you forever to ask her out in the first place.”

“At the time, I was a little preoccupied with a partner in the hospital thanks to one James Gunther. And I agree, she’s a great lady, and she was there for me when I needed the support, but….”

“But you’re not in love with her. I know, you told me.”

Hutch sighed in agreement. “That’s right. I cared for her, but she wasn’t the…you know…she wasn’t the love of my life.”

Hutch paused, and Starsky could feel his stare. He kept his focus on the socks.

Hutch cleared his throat and said, “Speaking of girlfriends, buddy, why aren’t you with the lovely Lorraine tonight? By now, I thought you would be busy choosing wedding invitations.”

“Why do you care?” Starsky muttered with indifference, not looking up from his sock-covered wrist. He tossed another ragged one onto the growing garbage mound.

Hutch moved behind the couch and began massaging Starsky’s sagging shoulders. Starsky groaned at the touch, and thought he heard Hutch say, “I care more than you can know.”

He nestled into the magical fingers, tilting his face up to see Hutch upside down. “I couldn’t hear you, what did you say?”

Starsky was sure he saw a look of longing in the crystal eyes before Hutch changed the subject. ”I said, we should talk, you know? I’ll get a couple of beers. Don’t move.”

“I’m not the one packing,” Starsky mumbled as he rubbed his neck and resumed shuffling through the unsorted socks. He peered into the kitchen, watching Hutch rummage through the fridge until he emerged with two cold, brown bottles.

Starsky thought about Hutch’s recent news as he stretched a ragged brown sock to test its elasticity.

Samantha was a caring, intelligent, kind woman who was madly in love with Hutch. A few months after they started dating, Samantha introduced Starsky to her friend Lorraine who also worked as a nurse at the hospital. The four of them double-dated a lot and had a great time together. When they weren’t dating, Starsky and Hutch studied for the Lieutenant’s exam, which they both aced with little effort. Life after Gunther was rolling along smoothly for the curly-haired detective.

That’s why Hutch and Samantha’s breakup completely rocked Starsky’s idyllic little world, and it didn’t end there.

A bigger bombshell dropped two days later, shocking Starsky to his core.

Hutch showed up at Starsky’s apartment with a pizza, looking worried and uneasy. After they ate in silence, Starsky nudged Hutch’s knee and asked, “You’ve been quiet all night, buddy. Do you have something to tell me? Can’t be any worse than you breaking up with Samantha, can it?”

Hutch averted a glance and said, “Yeah, I came over to tell you something.” He examined his hands as though he would find misplaced courage in his fingers.

“Spit it out, Hutch. You can tell me anything. Even though we’re not on the streets, we’re still partners.”

“I’ve accepted a Lieutenant position in San Francisco,” Hutch said, his voice cracking. “I leave next month. It’s a good job, an advancement in my career, you know?”

Starsky’s stomach plummeted. “Why did you go and do that? You can’t go to San Francisco. You have a job right here in Bay City.”

“They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” Hutch attempted a laugh. “San Francisco isn’t that far away. We can still see each other whenever we want.”

“If it’s about your breakup, I’m sure plenty of women are waiting in line for you, Hutch.” Starsky was scrambling for an answer to this absurdity.

“It’s not because of my breakup with Samantha. It’s just something I have to do. I hope you’ll understand, even if not right now, but someday.” Hutch rose and grabbed his jacket. “Let’s talk more tomorrow, ok Starsk?”

Starsky’s mouth was open, but he was speechless as he watched Hutch leave. The sound of the shutting door jolted Starsky out of his trance. He ran a hand down his face, trying to calm his nerves. “We’ll talk, that’s for sure, Hutch. I’ll get to the bottom of this crazy decision tomorrow.”

They talked the following day, then the next, and every day after that. No amount of talking, arguing, or pleading could persuade Hutch to change his mind. Dobey tried, as did Huggy, and Starsky most of all.

Starsky had been carrying a lead weight in his stomach ever since.

“I survived three bullets in the back, a long and difficult recovery, made it back to active duty, became a Lieutenant…” he said to himself as he removed the lint from a wool sock in his hand. “…now I’m not sure what I did it all for.”

Hutch approached the sofa with the beers and sat down, the sock collection in the center between them.

“Here you go, buddy,” Hutch placed a beer on the table. He stared at the bottle in his hands before shifting his gaze to Starsky. “You know, I doubt there are many good ones worth keeping.”

“Good what?” Starsky tried to appear disinterested, finding a companion for the sock in his hand and throwing both in the smaller to-keep section.

“Socks, Starsk. That pile you’re so intent on sorting is likely all trash.”

Starsky lifted his head, his eyebrows narrowing, and his voice defensive yet cool. “How would you know? You’d get rid of the good ones at the first sign of a hole. You’d even throw one excellent sock away just because it doesn’t have a partner anymore. Or just because you’ve grown tired of it, outgrew it, or some bullcrap like that.”

Hutch glanced at the disorderly heap and frowned. “Hey, are we still talking about socks?”

“No genius, we’re not talking about socks.” Starsky’s voice trembled. “We’re talking about a friendship and a partnership that you seem to have forgotten. That you chose to end for reasons that I don’t understand.”

Hutch set his beer on the coffee table and turned to Starsky. “I didn’t end our partnership or our friendship. We are both Lieutenants now. You have a great career here in Bay City. A flight to San Francisco is just over an hour, and we can visit each other whenever we want. We’ll still be friends, there’s no changing that, not ever.”

“You can have a great career here in Bay City too.  obey said there will always be a position here for you and you know it.”

Starsky snatched another sock, continuing his plea. “The only thing I can think of is that I either did something wrong or said something to tick you off. I’ve been straining my brain to understand it. Was it when I told the girls last month that you liked to watch sunsets and enjoy going to the ballet? Or was it when I beat you at chess again? All of that is true, but I’m always opening my big mouth and embarrassing you, aren’t I? Or is it worse, like you don’t respect me as a cop after Gunther?”

“No, Starsky.  Stop it.” Hutch raised a hand in protest. “None of that is true, or even close to why I decided to leave.” Hutch took a deep breath. “The truth is, I figured you’re with Lorraine now and you were intending to take the next step with her. I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”

Starsky’s gaze was fixed on a white gym sock. “Lorraine and I broke up the other day if you must know,” he whispered.

“You what?” Hutch exclaimed, stunned.  “I thought you said Lorraine was the one. What happened, did she dump you?”

Starsky slapped down the defenseless sock and met Hutch’s surprised expression. “When did I say Lorraine was the one? I broke up with her, not the other way around.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Starsk. I truly am. I just remember what you said, and I quote… Lorraine is the one and only lady who understands me. She gets my job, my friendship and partnership with you ( meaning me), and all of it. And a few weeks later you said you two would make beautiful babies together.”

“I’m sure I said those things, and when I did, I thought you were planning on taking the next step with Samantha too.” Starsky stopped inspecting the socks and ran his fingers through his hair. “Ever since you ended your relationship with her… and unexpectedly announced you’re relocating to San Francisco… to take a Lieutenant’s position there… nothing has been the same. Lorraine tried to make it better, but it didn’t work. Nothing did.”

Starsky buried his face in his hands and returned his attention to the socks after an extended pause. He could hear Hutch breathing, gathering his thoughts.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Hutch said after what seemed like an eternity. “I figured if I stayed, I’d be getting in the way of your relationship.”

Starsky glared at Hutch, astonished. “Get in the way?” He reached over and gently pushed Hutch’s chin up to face him. “Do you even hear yourself? Without you, I don’t even have a life.”

Hutch’s jaw dropped. He reached out and ran his fingers through Starsky’s thick curls. “I only want what’s best for you.  Having a wife,  family, and a safe, secure job where you can make a difference on the police force…you always talked about those things. I thought Lorraine was the love of your life. If Lorraine isn’t your ideal match, what woman on this planet will ever make the cut?”

Starsky always assumed that if he loved a woman and she loved him back, that was enough to build a future. Let the rest happen as it will. But the love of his life? A person who would be there for life.. no matter what… through day-to-day happiness and struggles, sickness, moodiness, cooking, house cleaning, plant-watering, paying bills, car trouble, vacations…there was only one person that fit that description, and then some. And that person was most emphatically not a woman.

Starsky shook his head. “None of them.”

“None of them?” Hutch repeated. “You’re selling yourself a little short, aren’t you? I’m sure dozens of women would….”

“Don’t Hutch. Just don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Hutch said softly.

Starsky stopped fidgeting with the socks.

His white-picket-fence-fairy-tale-bubble had burst. It was an illusion with only one foundation in reality, and that foundation was Hutch. The bubble didn’t just burst without Hutch; it never existed in the first place.

“Don’t go. Please, Hutch, don’t go. But if you insist on going, let me come with you. To San Francisco, or a log cabin in the woods, or a tiki hut on the beach…anywhere you want. I’ll follow you to Timbuktu if I have to. If you’ll let me.”

“If I’ll let you?” Hutch said, his eyes an ocean of love. “Are you serious?”

“Never been more serious about anything in my life.”

“You would give up the white picket fence fantasy for me?” Hutch had to clarify one more time.

Starsky lowered his eyes, spinning a single sock in his fingers. “I don’t see it as giving up anything. I see it as holding onto something more important than anything else.”

He paused and saw the intense understanding on Hutch’s face. “You know, I was ecstatic when you wanted to set me up with Samantha’s friend, and I finally realized why. It meant when we had dates, I would always be able to see you. Don’t get me wrong. I  liked Lorraine, but I was a fool and a hypocrite. She was not my top priority. You were.” Starsky abandoned the sock and raised his head. “You are.”

“Shh,” Hutch said, putting two fingers to Starsky’s lips. “I’m the one who’s a fool. I haven’t been entirely frank with you either.”

Starsky squeezed Hutch’s fingers against his mouth, feeling a rush of both uncertainty and hope. The sock fell through Starsky’s fingertips to the floor, his eyes encouraging Hutch to continue.

“I took the job in San Francisco because I was a coward. I couldn’t bear to watch you with someone else anymore. I thought you wanted to marry Lorraine. You practically said as much.”

Starsky released Hutch’s fingers. “It was all part of the fantasy. As long as you were in my life, everything was perfect. The moment you decided to go, everything fell apart.”

A crumpled sock sat in a ball in Starsky’s lap. He picked it up and tossed it on the coffee table as he rose. “But you’re leaving, and it’s too late, isn’t it?”

“Wait. Please listen to me.” Hutch caught Starsky’s arm and drew him back down onto the sofa. He reached behind Starsky and retrieved two colorful socks, holding one in each hand.

“This one’s white with red stripes, while the other one is red with white stripes. They’re similar in appearance, but not the same. Most people would throw them away because they don’t match. They aren’t what you would consider a typical pair.  But if you look closer,  you can see they look good together. They fit. You just have to look past what is considered normal.”

Starsky looked at Hutch in wonder. His loving, logical, beautiful Hutch was trying to explain this unexplainable thing they shared between them with a cheesy metaphor. About socks.

Starsky smiled at the dangling socks Hutch held in each hand. “Hey, didn’t you buy those for us for Christmas last year?  Mine had red stripes and yours had white. How did both sets end up here?”

“I did buy them because they reminded me of the striped tomato. Of me and thee,” Hutch chuckled. “I think you left your pair here last New Year’s Eve. You took your socks off to dance in my living room with Lorraine.”

“That’s right, she drove me home and I passed out fully clothed but barefoot in bed.” Starsky laughed, before growing serious. “All I remember is you that night, Hutch. You were wearing your yellow sweater making your hair look even blonder and your eyes even bluer if that’s possible. And every time I tried to cheat at Monopoly you would pretend to swat my hand away from the money. I think I inadvertently kept cheating so you’d keep touching me.”

“I think I accused you of cheating even when you weren’t so I could keep touching you,” Hutch countered.

Starsky chuckled at the memory, as his focus shifted to the floor, where he noticed the other two red and white striped socks beneath the table. “Looks like these two have partners after all,” Starsky said, reaching down to scoop them up.

“Now we both have a set,” Hutch said, as he stripped off his shoes and socks and bent down to pull on the mismatched pair.

Starsky followed suit, rolling up his pant legs and pulling on his own set of incongruous socks.

Hutch scooted over, his thighs grazing Starsky’s as they both stretched their legs onto the coffee table. Hutch admired the view of their feet and snorted. “Do you think we’re like a couple of mismatched socks?”

Starsky leaned sideways into Hutch. “No, I think every other relationship we’ve had has been a mismatch. You and me? We belong together, even if we couldn’t see it right away.” Starsky glimpsed at Hutch and smirked. “You might call us a matching mismatched pair.”

“I believe that just about sums us up, partner.” Hutch wrapped his arm around Starsky’s shoulder, who sank into the embrace. “ At some point – I’m not sure when – I realized I couldn’t bear the thought of you falling in love and starting a life with someone else. I couldn’t go on leading Samantha to think we had a future together. That’s why I broke up with her.  After that, going away seemed like the only option.”

Starsky pressed his nose into Hutch’s shoulder and sighed. “There is no universe where your leaving would be the best option, dummy.”

He felt Hutch’s strong arm pull him tighter, and his voice softened to a murmur. “Starsky, in case you haven’t figured it out by now, it’s you. You and you alone are the love of my life.”

Starsky grinned from ear to ear as he looked up. “About time you said it, blintz. Now, are you planning on kissing me anytime soon, or would you rather I send out for a pizza?”

”That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Hutch joked before his eyes darkened with desire. He reached under his seat and pushed the lump of socks onto the floor. “I’m sorry if our stupidity hurt our girlfriends, but I’m not sorry for loving you.”

Hutch leaned over and kissed Starsky lightly on the lips.

Starsky’s insides melted at the timid kiss. It served as a kind of seal to bind them together, marking the start of the rest of their lives.  As he reciprocated the kiss, his emotions intensified, growing hotter and sweeter with each mouth-watering moment.

Before it was too late, Starsky forced himself to draw back. “Answer me one question.”

Hutch halted his impending assault on Starsky’s ear, a worried look on his face. “Anything, what is it?”

“Are you still going to San Francisco?” Starsky had to know.

Hutch’s cheeks turned red. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, I’ll stay. I’ll call Dobey in the morning. If you’ll let me, that is.”

“Not only will I let you, but I’ll dial the phone,” Starsky replied, his insides fluttering for the first time in weeks.

Hutch brushed a wayward curl from Starsky’s forehead. “I can’t believe I almost left you. All because we were living under the illusion of what a perfect match should look like.”

“We had to sort through a whole lot of clutter first, ” Starsky added, his fingers stroking Hutch’s upper lip. “Now it’s clear as day. You’re the love of my life too, Hutch.”

Hutch smiled in awe as he stroked Starsky’s shoulders, up to his cheeks, and into his curls. Starsky’s pulse pounded as Hutch kissed him again, without hesitation, the passion and love seeping into his very bones. Their tongues became heavily engaged in a duel with no clear winner or loser.

Rising from the couch, Starsky took Hutch’s hand and led him to the bedroom, kicking aside empty cardboard boxes on the way. He hurriedly swept the stacks of clothing off the mattress before pulling Hutch down with him.

They tumbled onto the bed, lips locking, hands clawing at one other’s buttons, belts, and zippers. Two shirts, two sets of blue jeans, and two pairs of underwear were hastily kicked off and added to the mass of clothes on the floor.

Four red and white striped socks were the last to be removed, strewn, and separated before landing onto the heap below.

Starsky would later ensure the socks were salvaged and put away for safekeeping. For years to come, he’d find occasions to take them out,  shuffle them behind his back, and instruct Hutch to pick a hand.

Hutch always obliged, sometimes choosing a mismatched pair, other times not.

It made no difference to Starsky. They belonged together no matter what.