Rings

You can’t wear jewelry in the hospital.

Originally published in the SHareCon 2014 zine.

Hutch wasn’t sure when Minnie had handed him Starsky’s watch and rings. She had the bag with his clothes etc. somewhere, but had handed the jewelry to Hutch. He slid the two rings onto his pinkie, but since his hand was much bigger than his partner’s, they only slid halfway down. The watch went into the pocket of his leather jacket.

“You can have five minutes now,” the emerging ICU nurse said to him.

He was at his partner’s bedside in three strides. He sat stiffly in the vinyl chair, dragged close enough that his knees brushed the mattress. Starsky was still in a coma; there were tubes and monitors everywhere and the noise chilled Hutch. He picked up Starsky’s left hand, and the rings brushed against their owner.

Setting the hand back on the mattress, Hutch placed the two rings next to it. Then he took off the moon and star chain he was wearing.

“I’m putting your rings on my chain, Starsk. They won’t fit on my fingers; oh yeah, you know that. Well, on the chain they’ll be close to me and I’ll always know where they are.” He fastened the chain back around his neck and picked up the hand again.

“You still owe me a ring buddy. These are just loaners.” Hutch kissed the hand and set it back on the bed. “Wake up buddy. I need you.”

Fluffing his fingers through the dark curls, he then stood and left the room. Huggy was outside the door.

Hutch went back to the ICU waiting room with the Bear behind him. Sitting, the two were in a comfortable, if not depressed, silence for a few moments.

“Do you know what those two rings are to him?” he asked.

Huggy said, “I know the silver one is from his dad. He bought it for him the last time they were at Coney Island.”

“He ever tell you what the gold one is?” Hutch asked.

“No, but then I never asked,” Huggy said.

Hutch leaned forward, starring at the carpeting. “When Vanessa left me, all that was in our apartment were a pile of my clothes, my grandmother’s piano and her wedding ring on the kitchen counter.” He looked up, remembering.

The door flew open, no knock. Hutch was sitting on the kitchen floor, against the refrigerator. Starsky walked in slowly, crossing the small living room to the kitchen doorway, taking in the empty room. His eyes landed on a small gold band sitting alone on top of the counter.

He picked up the ring and put it on next to the silver one on his left pinkie. “You’re mine now.” The voice was firm, possessive. “She never deserved you Hutch.”

The golden head rose, and he looked his partner in the eye. “Yours, huh?”

“Yup. Mine.”

“Not much worth having, according to the last owner.”

“That’s where she’s always been so wrong. Course the fact that she could never see that explains a lot.” He held his hand out. “Come on.”

Grabbing the offered hand, Hutch pulled himself up. He stared at the gold band on his left hand.

“Can we drive by the ocean?” he asked.

“Sure,” Starsky said.

“We didn’t really know what we had then,” Hutch said, still staring ahead at nothing. “We were years away from realizing, well, you know” he finished.

“Yeah, I do. Always thought you two were more than a little slow figuring that one out,” Huggy said.

The two were quiet for a while.

“Your first wedding ring in the ocean?” Huggy asked quietly.

“As far as I could throw it.”

The quiet returned. The sounds of the hospital were all that either heard.

“Remember how we spent the night Vanessa was killed at your place?”

“Sure ‘nuff. You two pounding on my door, pulling me outta a sound sleep my one night off,” Huggy said.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Hutch shrugged. “That night, when we were trying to sleep on your spare bed …”

“Yeah?”

“Starsk slipped his hand into mine and held on to me. Laced our fingers together and told me to sleep. He’d keep an ear open.”

“Sounds like Curly,” Huggy replied.

“He told me that ring meant everything to him. The fact that I let him keep something that could of pissed me off every time I saw it. I never looked at it like that. It felt more like he filled up an empty part of my soul when he put that ring on. Like the scars from her would heal faster because something so much better had stepped in before the cold really set in.”

Hutch got up and walked to the window. Looking out, he said “That night, I pretended to fall asleep and rolled over, almost on top of him. He let me sleep like that. He knew I was awake, and I wanted to stay awake but he just …” He turned back, looking at Huggy. “He’s always taken care of me Hug. People think it’s the other way around, but it’s not. He’s always been the stronger one, always giving me what I need even before I know what I need sometimes.”

Huggy got up, sensing Hutch needed more than just his attention.

“I can’t lose him, Hug. I can’t. They told me to be prepared for brain damage, if he wakes up. Oh God, that wonderful, quick, weird brain of his damaged? How can that be?” Hutch fell into a chair. “How am I ever going to learn about natural disasters before 1950? The first steel bridge in California? Why strawberries have seeds on the outside? No, no, no, please God, no!”

Huggy put his arms around his friend while the tears that had been held back all this time finally broke through.

“Don’t sell him short, Hutch. He’ll come through it fine,” Huggy said, although it lacked his usual intense conviction.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hutch said. “No matter what happens, I’ll take care of him. Even for the rest of our lives. I don’t care what it takes. He deserves everything! He deserves more!” The blond smacked the arm of the chair and stalked across the room to the window.

Starsky’s awakening soothed some of Hutch’s fears, but the painkillers kept the dark haired man barely lucid. Even awake, he was considerably groggy but he always knew Hutch’s touch and face.

Three days out of the coma, Starsky raised a hand to Hutch’s cheek and his hand dragged across Hutch’s neck on the way.

“Feel that?” Hutch asked.

“Hmm?”

“Your rings are on my chain. Just for now.”

“Thas ‘ood. I’d don wanna lose ‘em.”

“No way buddy. They’re a part me too.” He leaned in and whispered, “When I lay down and feel them on my neck, it’s almost like having your hand there. Not as wonderful as your hand, but it’ll have to do for now.”

“Hava tell you somethin’. Mportant.”

“What’s that buddy?”

Starsky’s other hand moved on top of the blanket and Hutch laid his on top of it. “In my top dressr drawer, thersa blue box,” Starsky swallowed and started again. “Ifa I donna, ya know, well, it’s fer you. But open it by yoursef. Cuz it’s kinna soapy.”

Hutch ran his hand through the dark curls. “Oh baby, what did you go and do, huh?”

“Was gunna give it to ya at my three course lobstrer dinner,” Starsky gave a smile his best effort and there was a small, yet perceptible squeeze of Hutch’s fingers. “But just in case, well, wear it tuh the funeral, ‘kay?”

“Stop talking nonsense!” Hutch admonished.

“Gotta facezit Husch. Could happen.”

“Not if you fight, Gordo. Not if we both fight. Now stop talking like that! Attitude is a big part of this now. How else can you explain still being here, huh? We want you here, together with me and that’s how it’s gonna be!” Hutch squeezed the smaller man’s hand tightly and forgetting to check for onlookers, lightly kissed his lover’s temple. “There’s no other alternative possible. You and me together. We promised each other!”

“The bad guyz dinna get the memo I guess, huh?” Starsky mumbled, starting to tire. “Jus’ promise me you’ll wear it at least once if I go Husch. ‘Kay?”

“I promise I’ll wear it every day when you put it on my finger. Sleep now pal. I’m going to grab some coffee and maybe even a disgusting donut in your honor. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Getta big choclit one,” Starsky gave a small smile as he fell asleep.