Starsky bounced the
basketball against the hard ground as he made his way alone through the paths
that led to the basketball courts in Oceanside Park. It was a beautiful morning
in southern California, but be barley noticed it as his eyes were riveted on
the ball he bounced over and over again against the pavement.
Yeah, I'm alone alright, he thought.
"Again," he said out loud.
Another day off and again he doesn't want to do something with me. I got up this morning feelin' so good, thinkin' we could spend some time playing ball, just being together. Just us. No stress or pressure from anything. Just us. Just us being us. Together.
"I would 'a even let him win." Then came the phone call. "So here I am."
Alone. He was rude to me yesterday when we made plans for today and he was rude on the phone this morning when he cancelled, but I ignored it, like I usually do. Couldn't even give a reason for backing out on me. He sighed. Sometimes I think maybe I did something wrong. He had thought a lot about that and couldn't come up with a single thing. Nothing recent at least.
Starsky bounced the ball a little harder. Something was off kilter, something felt different about his partner. He made up his mind that he was determined to get to the bottom of it, and when he was determined… When did he start to notice these changes? His partner was more prone to analyzing things than he was, but he had to try and figure it out, he just had to. This was too important to let lie, they were too important.
You can start by not kidding yourself anymore; things have been slowly changing for a few months now and you know it, and you know when the changes started to become real obvious. He did. It was after that three-day weekend you were both given a couple of weeks ago. It was.
"Actually it started the day before that."
It started when he said he was going fishing. Alone. Over the time off and that really rankled you.
"Sure did."
I expected to spend it together. Like we spend most of our vacations. It's only when we fly back east to visit family that we really leave each other. I would of gone fishing with him. Wouldn't of complained at all. I swear I wouldn't have. But he made damn sure I knew that he wanted to go without me.
It was the Monday following the vacation spent apart that his partner had shown up to work with a mustache. Well, truthfully the thing hadn’t completely grown in yet, but the foundation had been laid and his intent to keep it was obvious. When Starsky had tried to joke good-naturedly about it, his partner had ignored him.
He tries to ignore me more and more lately. But then he goes and does something sure to get my attention. The mustache is a perfect example. Did he really think I would ignore it? Not have something to say about it? Pretend I didn't see it? What does he mean by growing it? Does it have to mean anything? There were so many, many questions lately.
And I don't like it. Not at all. The mustache is okay, I can live with it, but… but he shouldn't just go about changing himself like that.
"What do you want? Him to ask you for permission? Get real. He is a person entirely independent of yourself."
Is he?
Perhaps that was part of the problem. He wasn't sure anymore. He seemed to be sure of less and less lately and he didn't like it. Not at all.
Finally he reached the basketball courts where he found the empty and deserted blacktop beckoning him. Looking around to make sure that no one was going to invade this empty, open space, he took a tentative step onto the court under one of the baskets.
"And he takes the ball form the inbound pass." He began to dribble the ball up the court. "Turning to his right and then to his left, the rookie easily evaded the full court pressure from the more experienced defense." He mirrored his commentary. "Just over the mid-court line, the rookie looks left, right, looking for a play, looking to make a pass, hoping his teammates can set a pick and free themselves up. But the defense is good. What decision will he make?"
The next thing he knew, he was running up towards the basket. Running, jumping and reaching up, trying to dunk the ball through the hoop.
THAAAPP!! He missed.
And landed hard on the ground, breaking his fall with his right arm and shoulder. Quickly he rolled back and onto his left side to take the pressure off the injured limb, ending up partly under some bushes that had been planted just beyond the out of bounds line.
Shit. Swift move idiot. Since when have you ever been near tall enough to dunk a ball, huh? He cradled his injured arm and looked up at the cloudless sky and wondered why he felt like crying.
His partner had once said that they spent at least seventy-five percent of their time together. Lately he was sure it had dropped all the way down to sixty-five percent. And he didn't like it. Not at all.
He swiped at a tear that escaped from his eye. Damn this
shoulder hurts…
Sitting up slowly, he looked around for the basketball that had bounced away after his feeble attempt of trying to prove something to himself. If his partner was here, he would have… would of…
I feel like I can't be sure what he would have done. My old partner would have helped me up and would have been all concerned about me hurtin' my good shoulder. This new partner would probably have laughed at me. That thought made him more depressed than anything.
Getting gingerly to his feet, he flexed and rotated the right shoulder deciding that the injury wasn't too bad after all. Hands on hips, he looked around again for the ball. He couldn't see it anywhere. Crouching down, he searched under the bushes near where he had gone down. Finally he found the ball wedged between the ground and the thick stem of a bush.
He sighed. That's just terrific. Now I'm gonna need to crawl under there to get the damn thing. Probably spiders too. All this is his fault.
Getting down on his hands and knees, he crawled under the bush and reached for the ball. It was in there so tight that he couldn't budge it. Frustrated, he sat up a little and swung a leg around in front of him, kicking at the ball. Finally, after a couple of attempts, he was able to kick it free.
Only now he was stuck. During his struggles, one of the branches had decided to reach out and grab one of his curls. He shifted his head right and left pulling at the stubborn snarl. Then he realized that that type of movement was just making his situation worse. Reaching up with his hand, he tried to unwind his hair from the stem. No luck. Finally he had to settle for breaking the branch off. Thank God no one had come around to start playing ball. He felt like a fool so he guessed he must of looked like one too. What his partner would of thought of him now…
This day is going from disaster to disaster. I need to go home, ice my shoulder and plant myself there before somethin' really awful happens to me. It's no fun playin' ball alone anyways.
So, retrieving the ball once again, he headed back down the paths that lead to his car.
When he reached the Torino, he unlocked the door and sat down behind the wheel ready to start the engine. But before he did, he turned down the rear view mirror so that he could get a good look at himself. What a mess. He looked… rumpled. Tossed about both mentally and physically. The physical was obvious. His hair was sticking out in all kinds of directions, there were leaves and dirt in it and the branch… well it made him look like he was ready to go back to Cabrillo State.
"Humph." He reached for the glove compartment, opened it, and found the comb he kept there.
The mental was less obvious. "Would you come visit me if I was stuck in that crummy place again?" He started to pull at the hair stuck around the branch. "All I know is that if I end up there, it will be all your fault."
Oh, so none of the responsibility of this partnership falls on your shoulders. What has gotten into you? Hasn't this always been a partnership in the most truest sense of the word? Talk to him, damn it. You mentioned before how important this was!
He gave up on the hair deciding it would be easiest to go home and cut the branch out. A long cool shower sounded good to him right now. Then maybe he could start the day over and pretend that the morning had never happened. Pretend that his partner was away with a date and that was why he had declined spending any time with him. Pretend any changes in his partner were all in his imagination. Pretend all was right with his world. Pretending was easy for him. He did it all the time when he was… when they were… when he was on an undercover assignment.
In his mind's eye, he could almost pretend that. And then the reality of the mustache showed up on his partners face and the façade came crashing down. That's what happens with change – it makes you unsure of everything.
And I don't know how much, or what… what I can take from
you anymore. What I'm willing to take. How far will you end up pushing me?
He was starting to feel lost. And depressed. And really, he just wasn't sure
what to do. Just hang back and see what happens, I guess. But is that really
trying to solve anything?
He didn't like ignoring problems, wasn't used to doing that. But he wasn't sure of any alternative right now and if his partner wasn't even going to try and cooperate even a little bit with him, well… well… He just knew he wouldn't grow a mustache. He wouldn't change. No, not him.
"Fine, Hutch. Fine. Have it your way. All your way. I can't do anything for you when you won't tell me anything. I don't know why you're doing the things you're doing. You don't want me? Fine then, I won't want you either. If you don't need me, then I will just not need you. I can do that. I can."