Going home series
Going
Hutch had talked about going on a visit to Duluth for a long while, but always seemed to put it off whenever the possibility for a few days off came along. Then, out of the blue, Dobey had offered them a whole week's vacation around Thanksgiving. Starsky took the opportunity to talk Hutch into a corner and persuaded him to order tickets. Since the shooting, Starsky had learned to go with opportunities when they came along — you never knew if they were the last. They would be gone for five days, which would leave them two days to themselves before going back to work.
Starsky arrived early to pick up Hutch the Tuesday morning that they were leaving. Hutch was still in the middle of packing when he heard the car outside, and he started to hurry to finish up.
"‘Morning, Hutch," Starsky said, when he walked through the front door. "All set and ready to go?"
"Yeah, sort of," came the mumbled reply.
Starsky took a detour through the kitchen for a cup of coffee. There was plenty of time, but he'd gone early because he thought Hutch might need a bit of moral support. And maybe a little help with packing. Hutch always tended to pack far too much in Starsky's opinion.
"Taking all that?" Starsky asked, walking towards Hutch, sipping his coffee. "Sure you really need the tennis racket, too?"
"Well," Hutch looked flustered. "My parents have a tennis court and my father might want to…"
"Babe, I'm sure they have other rackets you could borrow. And it's November, for chrissake. Wouldn't it be too cold?"
"Yeah, I know. Wasn't thinking, I guess. Just want to be prepared, you know." He ran his hand through his hair and looked at Starsky.
"I know. Trust me, leave the tennis racket. Pack some nice clothes, a suit and tie, and don't forget your toothbrush." He reached out for Hutch and rubbed him soothingly on the back. "It'll be all right. Act the good son for a couple of days, and then we're going home again."
"Thanks." Hutch said, leaning into Starsky's arms. "Sorry. I know I shouldn't worry so much."
"It's all right. Now, finish packing, and I'll make us some breakfast. Bet you haven't had any yet."
"How did you know?"
Starsky just rolled his eyes, and retreated to the kitchen. Hutch needed more than coffee right now, and he wouldn't mind a second breakfast himself. It was several hours before they needed to be at the airport; perhaps he could talk Hutch in a little personal relaxation for dessert, too. Anything to make Hutch relax and take his mind off things. Starsky smiled at the thought.
#
Making Room
They're coming tomorrow. It's been such a long time, and it'll be so good to see him again. I hope his bedroom is made up. Lisa's been so forgetful lately. She really hasn't been herself since her mother got ill. But how could I tell her? It's always so difficult. It was so embarrassing the last time, when the Nielsens stayed over. Guess I have to check the guest room, too, just in case.
What's his friend like? Never liked that name, "Starsky," much. What's his first name? David… something. David Michael. Yes. That's it. It's much nicer. Why can't he just use that? Names are nice, important. "Kenneth" was all wrong, I think. I've always liked "Ken" better. It fits him, but his father always insists. I wonder what he thinks of it himself. I hated "Margaret" when I was younger. Now it feels like as if it fits, like if I've grown into it. Can you grow into a name?
Feels like I've forgotten something important. It's funny how that feeling's always there. I should be old enough now to have learned that it doesn't mean anything; it's just there.
The roast is all right, I think. It should be thawed out by tomorrow afternoon. It'll need two hours in the oven, and I should be able to have everything ready for dinner when they arrive.
Two hours. I think that was the time it took me to realize I was in labor when I had him. Wonder why it took me so long. It hurt so much, right from the start. And I was so young. The stories I was told… Why did they do it? I do it, too, now. It feels as if it's only what the girls deserve. They're so young; they can take it. Think they can handle everything. They don't know what they have coming later.
Richard's been a good husband, always comes home and always leaves the party with me. Not like Joanne's. He's never been able to hide his straying. Does Richard try to hide it, I wonder? I've never really confronted him; just kept looking the other way — easier.
Ken, David — I wonder what's going on. He said he wanted to show David the place where he grew up, but it's not like he's bringing home a girlfriend, I don't think. He's never brought one home after Vanessa. They were so beautiful together. Why couldn't they make it work? But he's still young; young enough, at least. It's easier for men. They can go on having children. It's the women who have to face that at some point we can't. I guess it's why mother wanted me married so early. But she had to know what it'd be like.
As if she could tell me then. I just wanted to sing. My teacher said I had such a lovely voice. I should have insisted more. All I ever used it for was teaching Ken to sing, and now we can sing together when he comes home. Does David like his singing, too? I hope so.
Ken always talks about him. I hope he's a good friend, that he's good for Ken. I'm not sure. He's from New York — and a Jew. What's his family like? Ken never told me if he'd met them. He would have, I think. Sometimes it feels like he's never telling us much, but with his job I guess he can't. Your children never turn out the way you wish for, not really, but what can you do?
Bed's done up all right and David's, too. It's so nice we have enough guest rooms. We didn't have that back home. People would just sleep on the couch and on the floor if they had to. This place is nice. I like it; there's enough room for all of us.
Why did he have to move that far away? He could have gone into the police force here, gone up in the ranks. Richard thinks he's stuck, that he should be able to get a better position. Perhaps come back here. Why not? I would like to have him around and we could introduce him to some nice girls. Probably nicer than the California girls he's used to. He was always so shy in school. I think he looks very handsome, but any mother would think so about her son, wouldn't she? And she'd want a nice girl for her handsome son.
The guest room is fine now, but I think I have to air it out later tonight. Better check the living room, too. Richard would have left it a mess by now. I just won't ever understand why he can't try to be a little more considerate; it's not that he doesn't know who's coming tomorrow.
#
Arrival
He was on my case. Again. I guess Starsky knows what he's doing. Not that I know, really. And here we are, in Duluth airport, just in time for Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving with the folks. Hah. The only thing I want to give thanks for is Starsky and that he survived the… the… ‘incident'. See, I can't even name it properly, still. And it's been more'n two years now.
There he is, looking at some card stand. Like we're tourists. And we are, I guess. I love the way he bends over to examine a card. Love the line of the neck and his back — and that ass. Displayed even better than the cards. Want to touch it. It's all mine, now.
Never knew I could be so protective, feeling ownership like that. But I do — and he lets me. Isn't that the greatest thing?
I finally realize that I can always come home to him. A little late to understand I don't have to come here to go home — my home came with me. And now he's pulling at me, telling me to get a move on or else we'll be late. Late for what, I almost ask. I'd rather stay here, watching him.
Starsky's gone to fetch the rental car I insisted on, and having nothing else to do and thinking of where we're heading, I can't help noticing the ‘parent visit' tension settling in my shoulders. It's the usual start to a visit and I wonder why it feels so natural — like I'd miss it if it didn't show up. Oh, well, when we leave, I'm going back home with him. Back home with my home. So I feel mostly all right — just have to deal with the next few days and it'll be over, like it always is.
"Hey, Hutch, who told the rental folks about your taste in cars? You should've let me handle the reservation."
Ah, yes. Here he is. The love of my life, rolling his eyes and looking exasperated. I must admit that even I didn't expect the rental company to give me such a clunker when I asked for something cheap. He'll want my ass for this, I think. Then I blush.
I'm driving, of course. I can feel my shoulders tense up more, and I hear myself babbling about this or that landmark from my childhood, and suddenly I feel his hand on my shoulder. I'm here, the hand says. I feel my shoulders ease up a little, now that Starsky is here, too.
#
Visiting
He couldn't help worrying about Hutch. He sensed Hutch's tenseness the moment they touched ground in Duluth. Could see it in his stance and the stiffness of his shoulders. He wondered if insisting on going had been the right thing to do — not that he could do much about that now. Given Hutch's current state of mind, Starsky felt justified in insisting that they leave a few days for themselves at home, after the visit.
Hutch's parents had wanted to pick them up at the airport, but Hutch had insisted on renting a car, and soon they were on their way. Hutch took the scenic route and as they drove through the streets of Duluth, he pointed out childhood landmarks. His voice sounded at one time excited and uncertain; like he wasn't sure what Starsky would think.
Starsky reached out a hand and steadied it on Hutch's shoulder, tightening it ever so slightly — pleased to see Hutch relax a little.
"Hutch?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're showing me this. You think we can go to New York sometime, and I can show you, too?"
"Sure, buddy. Least I can do." A real smile started to settle in the corner of Hutch's mouth, and Starsky felt a tiny bit of relief. He's still there.
The house was situated in a neighborhood of large, well-kept homes sitting well apart on their manicured grounds. After he stopped the car, Hutch waited a short while before getting out, just sitting and taking in the house. As they were pulling their bags from the trunk, the front-door opened and his parents came out.
"Ken! You're here!" Hutch's mother cried out, as she hurried towards them.
Starsky watched as Hutch greeted his parents. His mother hugged him, and only Starsky noticed the tight set of his shoulders. Hutch shook hands with his father who seemed genuinely pleased to see his son.
"And David, you're here too. So very nice to finally meet you." Hutch's mother came over to him, and while they shook hands, she gave him a peck on the cheek, too. His father settled for a handshake, as he had with Hutch.
Hutch's mother showed them their rooms after his father had excused himself, apparently something to do with the wine.
"So, I guess I'll leave you two to settle in," she said, after showing them their rooms. "Please tell me if you need anything, David."
"Everything looks just fine, Mrs. Hutchinson," he said.
"Please, call me Margaret. Calling me Mrs. Hutchinson makes me feel like my mother in law," she said, with a small laugh.
"I'm sure I would never mistake you for her, Margaret . You look far too young." Starsky beamed at her, and she looked pleased and kept smiling as she went back down the stairs after having told them to come down to dinner as soon as possible.
"Think you made a good impression, Starsk," Hutch said.
"Yeah, well, she's your mother. Want to be in her good graces." He winked at Hutch as he carried his bags into his room. There, think I rattled him a bit. Starsky smiled. If he could just keep up Hutch's spirits for the next few days, everything would turn out fine.
#
Don't Touch!
"Don't! Don't touch me. Just don't!"
Hutch held out his hands, shoulders stiff, and his voice was flat and strangled. He just couldn't let Starsky comfort him right now. Hutch didn't know why he reacted so strongly, but he just needed to go through the evening and get it over with. If he let Starsky touch him, he'd break down completely and it couldn't happen. He turned slightly away, shoulders hunched and fists tightened, willing his emotions down.
They were standing in Starsky's guest room, where Hutch had come looking for him. This was the first time Starsky had gone with him to Duluth, and he was secretly pleased that Starsky had talked him into going, even if he, himself, had kept stalling. Ever since becoming lovers the year before, it had felt increasingly important to Hutch to show Starsky the place where he grew up. It was just that all the other things that went with a visit back home usually made him want to put it off just a little longer.
Starsky seemed to understand that the relationship between Hutch and his parents had been strained for a long time and Starsky had been the perfect guest - pleasant and polite, never openly questioning the troubled undercurrents of emotions that seemed to arise whenever Hutch and his father were in a room together. Not very Starsky-like, Hutch thought, but he loved him for just being there. He wished it could have been like any happy family reunion when he came to visit, but it never was. Somehow, his parents didn't seem to get it. His life suited him and made him happy, but whenever he came here, it was to meet a wall of silent disapproval and strangled love.
Tonight they were going out for Thanksgiving dinner. He knew his mother wouldn't have minded staying at home, but his father deemed it important that they go out as a family, now that Kenneth was home to visit them — for once. Hutch had felt jittery and anxious while getting ready, and now, in the presence of Starsky, the person he was closest to, all his feelings of frustration, guilt, and anger overwhelmed him.
It wasn't fair to Starsky, but somehow their emotional closeness tore at his well-trained walls. And Starsky had noticed, tried to comfort him, but he knew that if Starsky so much as touched him, he wouldn't be able to keep the tenuous hold on his feelings that he needed so badly. Tomorrow… tomorrow they could go somewhere nice, somewhere his parents weren't. And the day after that they would go home.
He tried to put a smile on his face and turned back to Starsky, who looked apprehensive.
"Hey, buddy, I'm all right. Glad you're here. Just can't… deal with too much right now," Hutch said, dragging his hand through his hair, and looking ruefully at his partner. "We're all right. We'll be home soon."
"Yeah, we'll be home soon." Starsky's voice was low and intimate, and he smiled that special smile he reserved only for Hutch. Then he walked over and opened the door. "Come on, they're waiting."
#
Dinner
Richard watched his family as they said grace. His gaze lingered no more than usual over his wife, but it stayed little while with his son, and then with Starsky. It was good to have Kenneth home again. At Thanksgiving a family should be together. He had wondered a little about why Kenneth would want to bring his work partner home, but he guessed that they were good friends, too, and who was he to deny his son his friends?
The country club had an elegant restaurant, and Richard had many opportunities to introduce his son to the people who greeted them. Kenneth had grown up into a fine-looking son. A son that a man could be proud of. Or, at least, he could've been, if the son had done something to carve out a good life for himself — as Richard had done. Why didn't Kenneth want more? It was something that kept puzzling him, and whenever Kenneth visited, he felt the need to bring it up. It wasn't right that a son of his should settle with being merely a police detective. Granted, it wasn't everyone who made it that far, but Kenneth's lack of advancement felt almost like a personal defeat to Richard. Why not go farther, aim for more? Bay City would have plenty of opportunities for an ambitious man. You should just want it and reach out for it, that was all, and everything could be within your grasp.
He, Richard, had certainly done well for himself and had used every opportunity to advance and get ahead. Sometimes he still wondered what it could have been like if they had moved to some larger city, like New York or Chicago, when he was younger. Perhaps then he could have had a stab at going into big-league politics. Here, it was really just a small backwater in comparison, no real opportunity to play with the big boys.
And here they were, Kenneth and his friend, David. Seemingly so happy with what they had. But what was it, really? Rented apartments, an income that could have been a lot better, had they wanted to go for it, and every day they met the risk of getting shot down in the streets. No, Richard couldn't help trying just one more time to make Kenneth see it his way. It wasn't as if Kenneth hadn't been brought up to expect the life that Richard had. Why couldn't he try to see it his way?
#
Home
It was late in the afternoon when Starsky pulled over in front of Venice Place. Hutch relaxed in his seat and let out a breath that he wasn't aware he'd been holding — a rush of air that lasted so long it felt as if he'd held it for their entire stay. He'd always felt tense when he went back to Duluth, and this time hadn't been any different. He knew what it was going to be like, knew what his parents felt about what he did and the way he lived. They had made it clear often enough. But now that he was home again, he realized he could let go of some of the guilt. They would never change, but then, neither would he, and he had Starsky to come home to now. Time to grow up, boy, he thought.
He sat completely still for a few moments, just staring out of the front window, and then got out of the car to look for Starsky, who was busy pulling out Hutch's bags.
"Hey, buddy, feels great to be home, doesn't it?" Hutch said, stretching and rolling his shoulders.
"Yeah, it does. Bet your plants missed you. You can almost hear ‘em calling out from down here." Despite the teasing, Starsky's voice was affectionate.
Hutch went over to grab his bags. "Want to come back later, after you've been over to your place?" he asked, hopefully.
Starsky went over to him and, looking into his eyes, he placed a hand on Hutch's collar-bone, pressing slightly. The touch of the warm hand, and of the thumb rubbing slowly against the pulse point of his throat, made Hutch's heartbeat quicken.
"Yeah, I will. It's good to be home. In fact, I feel like just staying here. Don't have no plants that need me like you do, right now." Starsky's voice was warm and a little rough, and Hutch felt his throat constrict.
"I'll fetch dinner. Want pepperoni on your pizza, Starsk?" he managed to get out, hardly daring to move.
With a smile that was almost a little too bright, Starsky said, "Pick up a six-pack, too, and we'll have welcome home party just for us."
Early next morning, Hutch awoke, feeling strangled by the warm weight of Starsky who was draped across his upper body. He buried his hand in the dark curls and savored the feeling of closeness.
Starsky stirred, and one eye, only half-way open, looked at Hutch. "Wha' time izzit?"
Hutch didn't want to move, so he only whispered, "Early. It's early." Predictably, Starsky groaned and nestled closer.
That made Hutch smile. This was how mornings should always be. Feeling mellow and only half-awake, he was caught by a sudden impulse and said softly, "Want to move in with me? Think we could find a place to share?" As he heard himself say the words, he was surprised by how right they felt and realized how much he wanted this.
Starsky's head shot up, both eyes fully open. "What?" He propped himself up on his elbows, leaning over Hutch. "Damnit, babe. Of all the things to ask when I'm barely awake."
"Yeah, I thought now might be a good time." He let his thumb trail slowly along Starsky's smiling mouth, and drew him in for kiss. It was good to be home.
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