Revelations

“How do you mean, beautiful?”

“Looks, actions, and personality. He’s got the thickest, softest mane of dark curly hair you’ve ever seen, and you could get lost in his blue eyes.” He sighed and I watched as a smile crossed his face. “Every emotion he has is reflected in those eyes. And he’s got the most wonderful body. I tease him about not being in shape, but secretly, I wouldn’t change a thing about it.”

Hutch. Admired. My. Body. This is the same guy I’ve been hangin’ out with in locker rooms and we’ve been naked together on cases, and he’s been admirin’ me the whole time? Maybe there were some things about your partner you’re better of not knowing, but my curiosity got the better of me.

“Even with all the scars, you like his body?”

“They’re a part of him.” Hutch sighed. “I almost lost him. I watched him fight back. He earned those scars. He fought to live so hard, when even I had given up on him.” Tears gathered in his eyes and he wrapped his arms around himself. “He almost died – for real and permanently, and there was nothing I could do for him.” He shuddered. “I saw all the bullets and the blood . . .”

His voice caught in his throat and I started to hate myself for what I was doin’ to him, but what he said next, absolutely stunned me.

“I love him.” He whispered, and the tears that had threatened to fall, did. “I’d’ve killed Gunther myself if I thought I could have gotten away with it. And then would probably have killed myself after. I can’t live without him.”

“You . . .you love him?” My own voice was suddenly strangled and sounded like it came for someone else -- someone who was a complete stranger to either one of us. “Like, how do you love him? A brother? A best friend?”

The sobs were torn from him and he curled himself into a tight ball, then shook his head. “No. I love him. If he were a woman I’d’ve bought him a ring and married him, then spent the rest of my life making him happy and making him know that he was loved. I’d spend every night showing him how much he was worshiped and loved and cherished. I’d hold him in my arms and make love to him and he’d never know anything but safety and contentment.” He groaned. “Oh god, he’s so strong and courageous and when he laughs it’s like someone’s taken the lid off his soul and you can’t help but fall in. He’s my world and he makes me feel alive just being around him.”

I looked at the miserable figure curled in the middle of the bed, and didn’t know what to say. For probably only the second time in my life, I was totally speechless. My best friend loved me and wanted to make love with me. This same man could, does, and did turn every woman’s head he came in contact with, and he wanted me? A loud-mouthed Jew from New York, who just happened to be male?

Yet, what was really weird about the whole confession thing is that it didn’t bug me all that much. I wasn’t quite sure what to think about that, so I returned to the questions.

Easier to find out what was in Hutch’s head than look into mine at the time.

“And you haven’t told him any of this?”

He gasped and shook his head wildly as he sat up and tried to become one with the wall. And I hated the man who had pumped so much drug into Hutch’s system that the normally reserved man completely shattered . . .and over me of all people. “No!” He exclaimed. “He’d hate me! He was so angry with his other cop friend for being gay! I . . . I’d lose him and I couldn’t live with that! He’d ask for another partner and never even want to be friends with me ever again.” He burst into tears again and I couldn’t help but feel for him. “I . . . I couldn’t live like that.”

“But what if he falls in love with a woman and gets married?” I had to know, though I wasn’t sure why .

“I’d be his best man and throw him the wildest bachelor party he’d ever have, and whenever little Starsky’s came I’d spoil them rotten, just like any good Uncle would.” He smiled. “Starsky would be happy and that’s all that matters to me – a living, joyful Starsky.”

“And what about your happiness?”

“Starsky’s happiness is my happiness.”

That was something to think about.

Anything that made me happy made him happy.

And then I got to thinkin’ about all the things that had changed since Gunther had almost . . . well . . . had killed me, even if it was only for a few minutes. The lectures on proper eating had all but stopped, the eating in my car had stopped, the jokes about my car and my clothes had stopped, and any time I’d called him, no matter what he’d been doing at the time, well, he dropped it and came running.

That was an awful lot of power I wielded and didn’t even know it. But, since I knew about it, what would I do about it?