Retirement

The Department throws Hutch a retirement party while Starsky is away, and Hutch drops him a note letting him know how things went, and how many memories it stirred.

Originally published in the SHareCon 2014 zine.

RE – TIRE – MENT – noun – the act or fact of leaving one’s job and ceasing to work.

You asked me to pop you off an email when I got home, babe… so here it is.

The retirement dinner was… typical. Warm beer and rubber chicken. The Dobey’s were there and send their regards. They were sorry to have missed you. I promised a BBQ @ our place to make up for it. You can cook!

Retirement seems to agree with Harold… Edith too. In all the times we’ve seen them since Harold took the “golden handshake” and turned the division over to me, it really struck me, looking at them tonight; how much younger and prettier Edith is without the pinched lines of fear and worry around her mouth and eyes. Harold has had the good sense to take his doctor’s advice and is doing something about his weight and blood pressure. He says he’s playing golf and WALKING the course. (Edith’s insistence I’ll bet.)

Everyone tonight seemed to be trying extra hard to make up for your absence, as if they could. They all missed you. I told you I was okay with you keeping the seminar you’d been contracted to give in San Francisco, and I meant it. It was too good of a new connection for the speaking/teaching circuit to pass up. It’s just that tonight brought back a lot of memories and you are the other half of most of them. I missed you too!

Now don’t go getting all weird on me, we’ll celebrate when you get home day after tomorrow. Believe me, I think I can do better than warm beer and rubber chicken!!

It’s late and I’m tired. (Warm beer will get you every time… haha.)

Goodnight, Babe. Sleep well.

All my love, Hutch

P.S. Guess I wasn’t done after all. When I got in bed, I could close my eyes, but not turn off the images playing behind my lids like an old-fashioned 8mm movie reel. Frame by frame… grim reminders of how easily I could have received the gold watch tonight and your absence would have been permanent. It’s a good thing you aren’t here, my maudlin mood would piss you off. I’m sorry but those pictures still come even after all this time… still crystal clear… sharp…cutting…painful!

The Italian Restaurant… the poisoning we almost didn’t get the antidote for in time… Simon Marcus and his weirdos… Gunther… the worst of all. Then there was that wreck three years ago, although in all fairness I can’t hang that on the department. Maybe I should start a group “Partners Against Drunk Drivers!!” Too many times… too close… too frightening.

Tonight they referred to me as having served the past 36 years with courage and distinction; a gold standard to hold up as an example for the rookies. But they got that all wrong! I’m not a hero, not really brave… lucky, maybe, and God knows for that I’m grateful. You, Starsk… you’re the gold standard. You are all the gift I need for the past 36 years. You and I… still here, still whole.. (mostly) still healthy (pretty much)… still together. Just like in the beginning, Babe. Me and Thee!!!