Skeleton

117

Hutch has to cope with a family tragedy only to discover a family secret he never knew about.

 

Originally published in the zine, Venice Place Times I.

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Hutch was skipping rope at Vinnie’s Gym. It was seven in the morning and this was his habit, along with a home-made health drink, before heading off to work each day. His morning routine also included some kidding around with Starsky, but this morning was a little different. Starsky was ten minutes late, and when Hutch saw him finally coming through the door, he saw that his normally spunky partner walked in a slow shuffle and wore a pale, stunned expression on his face. The look made Hutch drop the jump rope and trot over to him.

“Hey, Starsk,” he said panting a little and patting his shoulder. “What’s wrong so early in the morning? Your stewardess friend didn’t leave her phone number when she left?”

But even as Hutch offered the remark, he knew it was something more.

Starsky looked at his friend, still wearing a dazed expression. His mouth opened a little and his voice cracked with an emotion. “Hutch, I don’t know how to tell you.”

Hutch tried to push Starsky down onto a bench, but Starsky shook his head and looked around at the few morning exercisers. He took the sleeve of Hutch’s white warm-up jacket and pulled him outside the front door to be in private.

Hutch jerked his arm away from Starsky and glared at him. “Buddy, you better be telling me what’s going on before I—” But the tears in Starsky’s eyes stopped him and he lightened up in his voice and expression. “Starsk, hey….” It was his turn to tug on Starsky’s jacket. “Talk to me.”

Starsky nodded and straightened his shoulders. “They tried to reach you at your place. When they couldn’t, they called the station. Dobey took the call, then notified me. Hutch….”

Hutch’s face grew quiet at the tone of his partner’s voice. “Who’s they?”

“Your father’s lawyer. Best friend, right?”

“Abel Waxman?”

“Yeah, him. And he said it was quick. That they didn’t suffer….”

Hutch read what Starsky hadn’t said yet, but had nonetheless made clear to him. “Oh, my God,” he whispered as he reached behind him for something to lean on. “Not my parents, Starsk.”

Starsky leaned him against the side of Vinnie’s building. Hutch sank lower and lower, not realizing his legs were giving out. He was on his knees and Starsky sank with him, hand on his shoulder all the time.

“They were flying out here to see you,” Starsky explained gently. “Small plane. Everybody dead. Pilot, your mom, your dad. No survivors. Went down in a wooded area.”

Hutch’s head was bent down. Starsky could tell by the way Hutch’s shoulder moved under his hand that he was crying.

“I wish,” Starsky said with a tearful swallow. “I wish I could say somethin’ to make it not real.”

Hutch wept into the back of his hand. When a few more morning patrons started walking up to the front door, Starsky pulled Hutch to his feet and moved him to the passenger side of the Torino, opening the door and sitting him inside.

“No work today,” Starsky told him quietly as he leaned into the car and gave the side of Hutch’s head a touch. “I’ll help you pack for Minnesota.”

***

Hutch didn’t ask Starsky to go to Minnesota with him, and Starsky didn’t ask him if he wanted him to go along. He just went, like a best friend would.

The plane ride was mostly quiet. Hutch seemed numb, soaking in shock and grief, so Starsky sat like a dutiful guard and watched him for the slightest tear or whisper.

“Losing one parent is hard enough,” Starsky said as he leaned his head back on the seat, then turned it to the right to see his partner. “Can’t imagine losing both.”

As if Hutch were mute, the only answer he gave was the squeeze of a hand to Starsky’s wrist. Heavy times like these were when they could best communicate without saying anything. There were times when they talked it all over, and times when nothing had to be said at all.

***

“Ken, I’m so sorry.”

Abel Waxman gripped Hutch’s hand at the airport and picked up one of his suitcases, while Starsky picked up the other.

Hutch only nodded.

Starsky put his hand out. “Dave Starsky.”

Waxman, a man with dark skin and deep, expressive eyes that were today red-tinged and filled with sorrow, gave him a smile. “Captain Dobey told me you might be accompanying him.”

As Waxman led the way to a dark luxury car, one arm around Hutch’s shoulders, he said, “Ken, I want the two of you to stay with me while you’re here.”

Hutch moved his head no. “I couldn’t impose.”

“Nonsense. Your father would want us to spend this time together. John was a good man. I’ll miss him terribly.”

Hutch looked at the man and saw his tears. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

Waxman pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket and blew his nose. “He wasn’t easy to love. Aloof. Critical. Driven. Proud. But I mined beneath his surface, and found what your mother did: Generosity. Modesty. Loyalty. Passion. I know you and John had your difficulties, but I like to think that you have his best qualities.”

***

Hutch moved through the funerals of his mother and father like a robot. Abel Waxman said a few words about John and Betty Hutchinson that brought new tears to the eyes of the mourners. Hutch preferred to share his words about them to just Starsky, when they were in the back seat of Waxman’s car, returning to his home.

“Mom was the kindest woman I’ve ever known,” he whispered in Starsky’s direction. “Fed every kid coming and going. Made each one feel special. And she made time for me. Read to me at night, taught me to play the piano and guitar. Languages. Listened to my dreams. And Dad….” He shook his head and smiled a little, though it was one of fondness and disconcert both. “Dad was a crusty shell who was afraid to let his feelings show. Had such high expectations for me. I never felt I measured up, even when he said he was proud of me. He was the one who’d let me sneak my puppy up to my room at night, though. And the one who taught me right from wrong. And although he was rich, he taught me that some things are worth more than money. Like friendship.”

Starsky saw Abel’s smile in the rearview mirror and nodded.

***

When they arrived at Abel’s house, he fixed them all a strong drink.

“Here,” he said handing one to Hutch. “You’re going to need this. I have something to tell you, and I wanted to wait till after the funerals.”

Without his eyes leaving Abel, Hutch drank the liquor. Starsky drained his too and set both their empty glasses on the bar.

Abel went to his roll top desk and pulled out a long envelope.

“Your parents’ will.”

“Abel, I don’t care about the money. You don’t have to do this right now. I couldn’t care less about—”

“It’s not all about the money, Ken.” He looked at Starsky as if he were recruiting him for help. In reply, Starsky moved a little closer to his partner. “It’s about something that John and Betty hid from you. I think you should sit down.”

Hutch’s head moved no. “Just tell me.”

Abel drew several crisp papers from the envelope and unfolded them. “It’s right here in black and white. They attached a letter also. You have a younger brother named Kevin.”

But Hutch was still moving his head no.

“It’s all right here, Ken. You were three when he was born. He was… is… retarded… and your mother couldn’t bear to keep him, though your father pleaded with her. His business kept him away from home. He couldn’t help her. She couldn’t raise the both of you alone… she was on the verge of a breakdown… a doctor advised them to place Kevin in a good facility, where he would receive special attention, special education….”

Hutch’s face broke into pieces like a clay jar, and Starsky sat him down on the sofa.

“How?” Hutch whispered up to Abel. “How could they do that? How could they keep a child a secret? I thought they were….”

Abel placed a hand on Hutch’s shoulder. “Good parents? They were, Ken. They did what they thought was right. That was a common choice for parents in that day and age. Logical.”

“CONVENIENT!” Hutch jumped to his feet and paced around, his face getting red, eyes white-hot. “HE WASN’T PERFECT LIKE ME SO THEY HID HIM AWAY LIKE A DIRTY LITTLE SECRET!”

“No, Ken!” Abel grabbed his shoulders. “No! They visited him! Took him gifts! Sent the facility money! You don’t understand how it was! What it was like for them!”

“THEM? WHAT ABOUT….” He looked over at Starsky, suddenly out of steam. “What about Kevin? How was it for him? What was it like for him? Living away from his family all those years? It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it. And I never knew. Why didn’t they tell me, Starsk? Why?”

Starsky could only shake his head. He looked stunned too.

Abel cleared his throat. “If it’s any consolation, Ken, your brother seems quite content living at the Harrington House. It’s the best private facility in the state.” Looking back at the documents, he said, “They specify that in the event of their deaths, you should become his legal guardian. I can guide you through the process, but I would be honored and pleased if you would allow me to take on that responsibility. I’m retiring. I have plenty of room here. And time.”

“You know him?”

“Know him? Your father wouldn’t visit him without me.”

“Absolutely not. He’s my brother. I’ll be his guardian.”

Abel looked down at the papers in his hand. “That saddens me, Ken.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Hutch said with some bitterness. “But I’m not like my father. I’m not going to desert my family. He needs me.”

The living room was silent for a while.

Hutch wiped a white cuff across his forehead. “What’s his level of understanding?”

“He can communicate, ambulate, do a lot of things for himself, but has the mind of a child. He needs constant supervision and redirection.”

“I want to see him. Today. And I’m taking him back to California with me.”

“Hutch,” Starsky said carefully, “I think you should think this thing through before—”

“I think you should just keep quiet,” Hutch told him. And then he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”

“It’s okay,” Starsky said rising from the sofa and walking over to him. “Got a lot goin’ on. Take it easy.”

***

The Harrington House looked more like a Southern-style mansion than a facility for the handicapped. It was a huge white building with pillars and trellises and balconies and porches.

The staff dressed in white uniforms. The residents in regular clothes. Abel, Starsky, and Hutch walked up the stone walk toward the large double doors.

The director was expecting them. He came out on the porch with a young blond man of about twenty-four dressed in black corduroys and a white shirt with the sleeves turned up to the elbows. The young man was fresh-faced and innocent-looking.

Although Starsky and Hutch were heavy hearted because of the Hutchinsons’ deaths, somehow seeing Kevin, unmistakably Hutch’s brother by the look and build of him, lifted their spirits.

“Abel!” he shouted happily as he darted away from the director and bounded down the front steps and down the stone walk. “Hi!”

Abel caught the young man in a hug, and held him tight. “Hello, Kevin. Good to see you again. I want to introduce you to your older brother, Ken.”

Still enveloped in Abel’s embrace, Kevin smiled at Hutch and shook his hand. “Kevin got no old brother, do he?”

“You do now,” Hutch smiled back. “And this is my friend Dave Starsky. We’re cops.”

Kevin shook his hand, too. “Hi to you, too. I see cops on the VT all the time.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Kevin must have sensed a change in Abel’s voice, because he pushed the older man back a little to give him a long look. “Why Abel sad?” he asked poking at his wet cheeks with a finger. “Where my mother? Where my father?”

Abel steadied Kevin by the shoulders and looked into his face. The director stood at a discrete distance, ready to assist if need be.

“That’s why I’m here,” Abel said simply. “To give you some bad news. I thought it best you hear it from me.”

“No,” Kevin said shaking his head, much the same way Hutch had when Starsky first told him. “Kevin can no hear bad news. Wants good news.”

Abel squeezed his shoulders tighter. “Your mother and father died in a plane crash, Kevin. They’re dead.”

Tears pooled up in Kevin’s blue eyes and he looked from the director to Abel. “They’re no dead. Kevin knows dead. Dead like a bird. They no dead. They come.”

“No, Kevin, they can’t come. They’re gone.”

“No, they come!”

“Kevin—”

“NOT DEAD!”

Kevin jerked away from them and ran toward a gazebo, where he jumped inside and crawled under one of the benches to hide. He covered his ears and screamed as he rocked back and forth. “NOT DEAD! THEY NOT DEAD! THEY COME! PLEASE COME BACK!”

When Hutch and Abel started toward him, Starsky took Hutch’s arm. “Hutch, let Abel. Kevin knows him.”

Hutch stood where Starsky stopped him, and watched helplessly as Abel ran to the gazebo.

The director walked over to Starsky and Hutch. “I’m Douglas Milton,” he said putting his hand out to them. “So sorry to have to meet under these circumstances.”

The detectives shook his hand, but their attention was on Abel and Kevin. With surprise and relief, they watched as the older man coaxed Kevin out from under the bench and helped him sit on it, taking his handkerchief and dabbing at the young man’s cheeks.

“Mr. Waxman has quite a way with Kevin,” Milton said as he observed the two also. “If I didn’t know any better. I’d say he’s Kevin’s father.”

Hutch turned his gaze to the director. “That’s all well and good, but I’m his brother, the only family he has left, and I’ve come to take him home.”

“Mr. Hutchinson, I don’t think you realize the responsibility you’d be taking on. He needs twenty-four hour care.”

“I can do that.”

“How?” Starsky asked him. “You know we’re hardly ever home. Odd hours. Who’d keep an eye on him? Your place is too small.”

“So I’ll move and quit my job. I sure the hell have enough money now.”

“Hutch, come on. You’re thinkin’ with your heart and not your head. It’s gonna be the death of you yet.”

“I don’t care,” Hutch said as he walked over to the gazebo. “Kevin, we need to go inside and get your things. You’re coming to live with me in California.”

Kevin sat on the bench, Abel’s arm enfolding him like a big eagle’s wing. He raised his blond head from the caring shoulder. “Kevin no want to go with you. He want Abel.”

Abel rubbed Kevin’s shoulder. “Now, now, Kevin. Ken is your family. Your brother. He’ll do what’s right for you. You’ll get to know him, and things will turn out just fine.”

Kevin clutched at Abel’s tie. “No, no, no. Kevin stay here.”

“You can’t stay here. Ken’s your family now, and he wants to take you home.” He looked up at Hutch. “Can you give us some time?”

Hutch nodded, and he and Starsky walked a few steps away in the grass.

Starsky saw the way Hutch was looking at Abel and Kevin, and, knowing what his partner was going to do before he even did it, patted his back. “For both of ’em, Hutch.”

Hutch nodded. “Yeah, I uh… selfish, huh?”

“Nah. Just bein’ Hutch.”

“I mean, I can see him whenever I want.”

“Right.”

“And he’ll be in a real home.”

“Right.”

“With someone who loves him.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, it’s easy to see, Abel’s family to him, right?”

“Right.”

When Abel and Kevin looked settled, Hutch motioned with his finger for Abel to join them.

“Okay,” Hutch said with a lump in his throat.

Abel gave him an odd look. “Okay what?”

“Okay you can be his guardian and take care of him.”

Tears of joy jumped to Abel’s eyes and he shook Hutch’s hand vigorously. “Thank you, Ken. Thank you. This means the world to me.” He smiled over his shoulder at Kevin. “And to Kevin.”

Hutch walked over to the gazebo and sat down on a bench across from Kevin. “Kevin, I uh… I know you don’t know me, but we are family. I didn’t know who you were until today. I hope we can get to know each other and be friends, be brothers. I’m sorry we didn’t get to grow up together, but I hope we can make up for lost time. See, I live out in California, and I’d like for you and Abel to come out and see me anytime you want to. I want to show you the ocean, and—”

Kevin shot to his feet, delight on his face. “Ocean! Kevin never see the ocean! And he love Abel very much!”

Hutch laughed. “I can see that.”

Kevin bounded out of the gazebo and ran over to the director. “Mr. Milton! Kevin going with Abel today!”

Mr. Milton smiled. “Very well, Kevin. Let’s go pack your things.”

Kevin walked up the stone walk and then the porch steps with the director, a smile on his face.

“Takes a big heart to do what you just did,” Starsky said patting Hutch’s back again. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a softie, Bronco?”