The Road We're Traveling

by DeniseV

The road to recovery is tough on both Starsky and Hutch. They're lucky to have each other to help them through.

I missed Hutch. He'd been assigned a case down in San Diego and he'd been gone three days. Yeah, we talked every day, but it's not the same. It's not the same as having him here when I need to talk to him. And it seemed lately that I needed to talk to him all the time.

I'd been home from the hospital for a little over three weeks. Believe me, I was glad to be home, but going home meant that I was getting better, and that meant that Hutch would have to start back to work at some point. And that point was hurtling toward me way too fast.

"I have to go down to San Diego." He looked at me with obvious concern for my reaction. The only thing I can tell you is that I felt pain and I felt scared. The weird part was that I knew the pain in my chest was not real. It wasn't a physical pain. I could recognize the difference now; the difference between real, overpowering and agonizing pain and something imagined. It was just my heart reacting to the news that I wouldn't have the one person who had helped me get through the most difficult period of my life. The recovery had been more than anything I thought I'd ever have to bear. And I wouldn't have been able to do it if it weren't for Hutch being there helping me through.

The scared part was for both me and him. I'm not paranoid, but someone did gun me down in the police garage. I know the guy who was behind it was in jail without bail. But that didn't mean that Gunther couldn't still have someone out there waiting to take another shot. And I knew having Hutch around I was safe. Maybe not because he would be able to keep it from happening again, but he just made me feel like everything was okay, that things were getting back to normal; if only my body would feel the same.

But I was also scared about Hutch going back out on the streets without me. We have this partnership that is unique on the force. We think so, but more important, Dobey thinks so and our fellow men in blue think so, too. And the reason we've survived some really tough situations is because we know what each other is thinking, what our next moves are. We've been partners, and best friends a long time. But I don't think that's why we're so good together. I think it's something else, something deep down. It's that we really, really love each other, too. But, I don't know, there's something else. I don't know how to describe it. I just thank God that we have it.

Thinking about Hutch going out there without me scared me more than anything. And when he told me he was going down to San Diego for an assignment, I knew I had to let him know that I wasn't scared, because if he knew I was scared he would never go. And I know Dobey was doing the best he could, being creative with ways to keep Hutch from having to go back on the streets until we knew if I was gonna make it back. But my recovery has been slow, and Dobey and Hutch and I were running out of time.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, trying to stay cool and calm.

"Yeah. They've got a big case going down and they've asked us for some help. I have to leave tonight." Hutch seemed like he was trying to stay calm, too.

"Tonight?" Okay, so I knew that sounded anxious. I needed to take a breath and calm down.

"Yeah, sorry buddy. Are you okay with this? You know, if you don't think you're ready, I can tell Dobey to get someone else to go down there."

Oh, man. If he only knew. See, it wasn't the physical part that I was worried about. We had arranged for the physical therapist to come to my place twice a week, so I would just need to get someone to drive me to the therapist for the longer sessions on Tuesday and Thursday. I could get Huggy or one of the guys at Metro to do that. Or I could really just take a taxi. I just was still not cleared for driving. Soon, but not yet. It was for all the other stuff that I still needed Hutch as a crutch. I would've laughed at the rhyme, but it just wasn't funny.

"No. Don't, I'll be okay. I mean, I'm gettin' around the apartment okay, and I can always get Hug or Edith or the guys to help me out if I need to."

"I know you can, I just want you to promise me that you will ask for help when you need it. I know you. I know you'll try to do too much if I'm not here to watch you." Well, I didn't think that was totally true, at least not all the time, but I also knew that I didn't want anything distracting Hutch in the field, so I knew I'd have to make the promise this time.

"I promise I'll ask for help when I need it. How long do you think this assignment might last?" There it was again, the anxiety. I really needed to buck up.

"Don't know. I'll probably know better once I get down there." I think he knew more about the case than he was letting on.

"Can you tell me anything about the case?" Maybe I'd feel better if I could know what he was going to have to deal with when he got down there.

"Not much. Something about immigration. Haven't been told more than that." Hmm. That wasn't very helpful.

"Hutch, now you need to promise me that you'll be careful. I'm not gonna be down there watching your back. Are you gonna be working with a partner down there?" It felt strange thinking of Hutch with a partner that wasn't me.

"If I do it'll only be a temporary partner, partner." He looked me square in the eyes when he said it. Who wouldn't be reassured by that look?

"Okay. Just be careful." I wasn't able to say any more without getting all emotional, so I quickly changed the subject. "Well, if this is our last chance to have fun for a while, I'm challenging you to a game of Monopoly. Let's have some pizza and beer and have some fun." That was pretty slick, if I do say so myself. Maybe I'll have a chance this time.

"Nice try, Starsk. Pizza is a yes, beer is a no, and why don't you pick a game that you at least have a chance of winning?" He gave me that big Hutchinson know-it-all smile.

"Fine Blintz. No beer. But I can beat you at Monopoly." I responded indignantly.

"When have you ever?" He replied too quickly. We went back and forth like this as I called for pizza and he set up the Monopoly game on the dining room table. We'd been playing at the table instead of on the floor because it was less of a strain on my aching, healing incisions and muscles. We would have a fun evening, even though having to watch him leave at the end of the night was going to twist my insides up.

The third day of Hutch's assignment had come and gone and I hadn't heard from him yet that day. He had made a point of calling me when he arrived that first night, and each of the first two days he was down there. It was eight o'clock at night and I was getting worried that something had gone wrong.

I was finishing up some soup that Huggy had brought over for me when the phone rang. I jumped up and ran to grab it, which was a mistake. I felt a sharp pain in my lower back. I had a therapy session earlier that day and was supposed to come home and ice down afterwards but got so caught up in worrying about my partner that I hadn't gotten to that yet. I also hadn't gotten to my evening pain pill yet; I wanted to be awake when Hutch finally called. I picked up the phone as I rubbed the cramp in my back.

"Hello?" I asked.

"What's wrong?" My partner asked on the other end of the line. Jeez, sometimes I think Hutch really is psychic.

"Nothin'. Didn't think you were gonna call, that's all." I lied. Maybe he wouldn't be able to hear anything in my tone over the phone line.

"Don't tell me that, Starsky. I can tell when you're in pain from the sound of your voice." Shit. Blondie definitely knows me too well.

"Okay, okay. I just got a cramp in my back. It'll go away soon enough."

"You didn't ice down after your session today, did you? What am I going to do with you, Starsk?" Ah, this was my window to lighten the mood, because even though I hadn't called him on it yet, I could definitely tell that Hutch was tense about something.

"Do you want me to answer that, schweetheart?" I asked, bobbing my eyebrows up and down like Groucho Marks. Of course, that was only for my own amusement.

I heard him laugh. "I saw your Groucho impersonation through the phone, Starsk." Jeez.

"We know each other too well, Hutch. Maybe this separation is a good thing." I didn't really think so, but I didn't want him to think I was too needy, either.

"I wouldn't go that far, buddy." He sounded a little depressed as well as tense.

"Whatsa matter?" I could tell there was something bothering him.

"Nothing. This case. Nothing you need to worry about." I didn't like the sound of that. Sounded like the case was getting to him. I think he needed to talk it over.

"What's going on with the case?" I started slowly. I didn't want to push him if he really didn't feel like talking about it. Hutch'll just clam up if you push too hard.

"No. I don't want to talk about it. It's messy and depressing. But the good thing is that I shouldn't be down here too much longer." But even saying that he sounded pretty down.

"Hutch, I think maybe you might feel better if ya talked about it. I'm not doin' nothin' else. Why don't you tell me?"

"No. I'll tell you about it when I get back. Listen, we haven't eaten yet so we're gonna head over and get a quick bite and then I'm gonna get some sleep. Did you take your pain pill?" Always in character. You gotta love him for that.

"No, I was waitin' to hear from you. I'll take it now. Go ahead, get some food and some sleep. You sound like you could use it." I was glad that he was safe, but I didn't like the way he sounded. We backed each other up more than just for our safety on the streets. We were always able to talk things through when the work got too tough, or depressing, or just when things got to be too much. I was feeling a little guilty that I couldn't help him this time.

"Yeah. Goodnight. And don't forget the ice!"

"Yes, mother. See ya." I heard a soft chuckle as I hung up the phone. I'm glad I had made him laugh.

"Jesus, are you kiddin' me?" I asked as I tried the weights. I was beginning to think that Angie didn't know what she was doing. Angie Melano was the therapist at the center who came to my place on Fridays. She was starting me on a new series of exercises that were supposed to boost my upper body strength. She had me on a bench, lying down with my hands at my sides on the bench. She placed a ten-pound weight in each hand, and then told me to extend my arms out like I was making a cross. The minute I tried, my arms felt like they were being pulled down to the ground.

"Come on, Dave, you've gotta try," she said. "You need to build your chest and upper arm strength."

"I know I haveta build my strength. But this feels like it's gonna rip out some of the hard work the surgeons did on me." I was starting to sweat and I had hardly done anything.

"Dave, every time we start a new series of exercises you complain. You've made good progress once you can get past the first hurdle. Come on, let's do ten of these, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." I struggled through to the eighth repetition and was really feeling unbelievable pressure in my chest and my arms were shaking like crazy. I really didn't think I'd be able to get through the last two reps.

"You're doing good, Dave. Just two more and we're done for the day."

"You're sure I'm not hurtin' nothin' doing these?" I thought I was gonna die.

"I'm sure. Let's go. Good. See, just one more." This was just what I needed, a cheerleader urging me on to a tenth rep. Ten lousy reps and I was whipped.

"Okay. That's good. Just sit there and relax a bit." She took the weights and put them back on the rack. Vinnie loaned me a set of weights for the duration of my physical therapy. Having the weights here made it easier to convince the center to let me do some of the PT at home. And Hutch helped spot me on the weekends when I would do little extra workouts, when I was feeling up to it. Angie said I could do limited extra exercise outside of the regular PT schedule.

"How are you feeling?" I heard Angie ask. I think I was on the verge of falling asleep.

"Okay." I started to get up and realized I really was feeling sore. Angie grabbed my arm and helped me up.

"Thanks. Hey, when can I get clearance for drivin'? I'm feelin' pretty good, except for right after a workout like this." I grinned at her and gave her a wink.

"Not yet. Soon." The same old answer.

"Angie, I think I can handle driving a car. It won't be that much of a strain." I'd driven my car after any number of injuries, and I'd been doing the physical therapy stuff for four weeks. I knew I had a way to go, but I didn't think I was that much of an invalid.

"You think you're strong enough now?" Angie asked me. It definitely seemed like a challenge.

"If I show ya that I can handle it, will ya talk to the doctor to convince him to clear me for driving?" I think I was up to the challenge, although there was no doubt I was feeling sore and tired and Hutch would be up my butt if he knew I hadn't iced down right away.

"Listen, I don't think we should do this. You just started your upper body exercises today. I'm just going to tell you straight, Dave. You are not strong enough to do this yet, no matter what you think or feel." I knew she was wrong and I figured it was time to turn on the Starsky charm to convince her.

"Angie, I don't want to jeopardize the progress I've made. I promise ya that if I start feelin' any pain or feel like I can't do it I'll let ya know." She looked at me suspiciously. "I swear."

"Okay. But I want you to promise me that if you can't do this today you won't feel bad about it. Your body suffered serious trauma and has been out of action for a long time. It is unrealistic to expect your body to do the same things that it could do three months ago."

"Okay, let's go." I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. Hutch had just brought my car back from Merle's last Saturday and I couldn't wait to give it a spin.

"No, Dave, we'll try my car. I've heard all about your car from Ken. I think we should take a regular car for your test drive." I would have to talk to Hutch about what he was saying to her about my car.

"Your car, my car, I can drive anything. It don't matter to me." I was beginning to feel tired; I almost wished I hadn't started this. But I was going crazy without any wheels.

I got in the car and quickly put the key in the ignition and turned it. I felt a sharp stab of pain in my upper right chest. Okay, I was obviously too keyed up. I took a deep breath and started to put the car in reverse.

"No, no put your seatbelt on. We always use seatbelts in my car." I think I'd been tricked and I think Angie was being a hard ass on purpose.

"Wouldn't that be bad for my chest if we did get in an accident?" I asked sincerely.

The look she gave me pretty much told me where I stood with her. If she was going to let me continue to prove I could do this it was going to be on her terms. I put my seatbelt on and turned the wheel left into traffic. And that was when I realized that I had lost this battle. But being me, I had to take it further just to prove that I wasn't a total wimp. So I took the car onto the road, even though the pain in my chest was as bad as it'd been since the hospital, and my arms were starting to feel like jelly again.

I drove the car straight quite a while because the thought of turning the wheel again was pretty unbearable.

"David, let's turn up here and head back. You're looking a little tired and believe me you're not going to convince me to talk to the doctor about clearing you if you pass out in the middle of the ride." Angie was getting as good at reading me as Hutch. And she called me David, so I knew I was in trouble.

I made a u-turn at the next light and the strain on my arms was enough to kill me. I noticed that Angie wasn't taking her eyes off me and I knew she knew what was going on. I pulled her car up behind another car; I was thankful that I wasn't going to have to try to parallel park the damn thing. I turned the ignition off and let my arms drop. I was exhausted, I hurt everywhere imaginable and Angie was giving me the evil eye.

She grabbed the keys out of the ignition. "Come on, let's get you upstairs." We both opened our doors and got out, but Angie had made it over to my side just as I closed her door. "Are you feeling a lot of pain, Dave?" She looked at me with concern. I'm sure she was worried about any setback this may have caused.

"My chest aches real bad and my arms and shoulders don't feel much better." I figured it didn't pay to be anything else but honest with her at this point. Angie's smart and she probably knew the answer to the question before she asked it. Plus, I probably looked as crappy as I felt.

"Okay, let's get you upstairs and in bed and I'll get your icepacks for you before I leave." She shadowed me up the stairs. Even the simple task of unlocking my door made my arms shake. And I was starting to feel a little sick, but I think I just needed to lie down.

"Go get ready for bed. I'll be there in just a few minutes." Angie headed for the kitchen while I went in to the bathroom and took care of business. I headed for the bedroom and changed into some sweats and got in bed. I remember the last time I felt this bad was about a week before I was released from the hospital. I'd developed an infection and spiked a really high fever. I ached for two days and the only thing that kept me going then was knowing Hutch was there with me, helping me through the pain. I knew this wasn't the same, that some sleep and painkillers would work wonders. But I still felt sorry for myself that my pal wasn't there. And to say I was depressed about the test drive was an understatement.

I guess I started to fall asleep because Angie was shaking me to get me to wake up. "David," uh oh, now what did I do, I thought, "I need you to take these. Dave, can you wake up a minute?" I felt the soothing coolness of the ice packs that she'd placed on my shoulders and arms.

"Nah, I don't wanna take anything until Hutch calls. I need to talk to him." I knew I was sounding desperate. I tried to sound less needy, "He's been gone all week, ya know?"

"Dave, I just talked to Ken. He said to give you the extra painkillers and to sleep. He's coming back tonight, but he'll be late. You should sleep. He said he'd see you when he gets here."

Now I was really worried about what Angie told him. But to be honest, I really did just want to sleep. I wanted Angie to leave; I'd embarrassed myself enough in front of her. My feeble attempt to do something as normal and routine as driving a car was a total failure. I really just wanted to sleep and forget that today ever happened.

I finally reached up for the pills and the water. It took all of my concentration and strength to keep my hands from shaking. I handed the glass back to Angie and fell back into the pillows with a sigh. I closed my eyes, but I could tell that Angie hadn't left yet.

I opened my eyes and she was still there staring at me. She sat on the edge of the bed. "Dave, remember what I said earlier? I told you not to feel bad, remember? You didn't listen to that, did you?" I looked away. I didn't want to talk to her about this. When I failed at something, there was really only one person I wanted, could talk to.

I looked back to Angie and gave her the best smile I had. "I know what ya said, Angie. I'll keep it in mind, okay? Now, I've kept ya long enough. Go have a nice night, and weekend. And thanks, for everything." It was only about six o'clock. I hoped I hadn't ruined her plans for the evening.

"All right. Get some sleep. There's nothing better for you right now. Okay?" Angie was a sweet girl. I was lucky to have her for my therapist.

"Okay. Goodnight." I smiled at her as she made her way to the door. It didn't take long before I drifted into sleep.

"No, no. I can do it. Let me do it. No, ah, no, Hutch!"

"Hey, Starsk, wake up. Come on, you're dreaming. Wake up for me, babe." I was dreaming that Hutch was talking me out of a dream. Or was that really happening? I tried to wake up, but I couldn't quite make it. I fell back in to that horrible dream.

"Oh no. I'm sorry Hutch. I couldn't, I tried but I couldn't…"

"Starsky, wake up. It's just a dream. Come on, I'm here. Wake up for me."

I tried to wake up. I saw a big, blurry, white vision. I blinked a few times; I was feeling disoriented, but I was waking. Those damned pills. My eyes seemed to focus a little more and it was such a relief to see Hutch sitting there, I wanted to cry.

"Hutch, oh God." I was breathing pretty fast. My dream was so real. I reached out to touch him, to make sure it was real, that Hutch was really there.

"Hey, hey, come on now." He put his hand on my chest. "You're shaking, buddy. What did you dream?" I didn't think I could tell him; I didn't know if I should tell him.

"I…I don't remember. I'm okay now. Hey, I'm glad you're back." I said as I put my hand over his. I tried to divert his attention from the dream. Of course, it didn't work; I obviously wasn't thinking too clearly to think that it would.

"Well, I think you do remember, but I want you to go back to sleep now. You need your rest. Angie told me you had a rough day. We'll talk about it all in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah. Hey, are you staying here tonight?" I was so pathetic. Although I wouldn't admit it to Hutch just then, that dream scared the shit out of me. I needed to know that Hutch was near, and safe.

"Of course I'm staying. Where else would I be my first night back? Hey, I hated being away from you too, Starsk. Look, let's talk in the morning. Get some sleep." He leaned down and grabbed the now room temperature ice bags, then tousled my hair, smiled and headed for the living room. I soon found myself rolling, still with a fair amount of pain, on to my side. My relief that Hutch was back and okay was overwhelming, and I quietly cried myself to sleep.

I awoke to the smells of fresh brewed coffee and bacon. I got up, went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, and then joined my partner in the kitchen. I knew he'd still want to talk about the dream, nightmare really. I wasn't sure I was up for that yet, but I ventured out there anyway.

"Jesus, I slept like fourteen hours." I yawned to prove my point.

"You must have needed it, buddy. Sit, here's coffee; I'll get you some juice for your pills. Breakfast will be ready soon." Hutch was in his special comfort-mode. He was good at it and he looked like he needed to comfort as much as I needed to be comforted these days, so I left him to it.

"Thanks."

"So, do you want to talk about that dream you had last night?" Hutch asked softly, eyebrows raised, a concerned look on his face.

"Not really, but I know you'll bug me all day 'til I tell you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, pal. Do tell." He smiled as he flipped the bacon.

"Well…I…uh…I, what did Angie tell you when you talked to her yesterday?"

"She said that you had a little bit of a setback yesterday, but that it was more emotional than physical, and that you would fill me in on the details."

"Yeah, well, I sort of talked her in to lettin' me try to drive." I didn't look him in the eyes when I said it. I knew he'd be disappointed in me, and I couldn't see that.

"Oh, Starsk. Why'd you do that?" There was nothing negative in the way he asked; just more concern in his voice.

"Hutch, I was goin' crazy here. Been goin' crazy. And I really did feel like I might be able to do it. Angie set me straight on that one." I finally looked up at him. Hutch was still only giving me concern and compassion. No judging. That meant so much to me; I can't begin to describe it.

"I think your body set you straight on that one more than Angie did." Of course he was right.

"Yeah. So, anyway, in my dream we were back on the streets together chasin' a suspect and you asked if I was okay to go down the alley and run the perp down with you. I said yes, but I couldn't keep up. When I reached you, the guy had you up against the wall, his gun pointing at your head. The perp hadn't seen me, so I had plenty of time to draw my weapon and shoot him, but my arms wouldn't work. I had no strength to pull my gun from my holster, let alone cock it and shoot. The perp finally saw me struggling, laughed, and then shot you point blank in the head and ran off." I stopped, looked up in to Hutch's eyes, and took what felt like my first breath since I started the story. I waited for some reaction from my partner…my best friend.

He looked at me, smiled and shook his head back and forth a little, then headed over to me. He took me in a huge embrace, and the warmth and the love was a little more than I could take. I let out a sob and immediately tried stifling the others. Hutch squeezed firmly, but gently, knowing I still ached from yesterday's fiasco.

"Come on, ya big lug. Just remember that you've made incredible progress. Remarkable, really. I know sometimes the progress seems slow. But you're doing great. You need to stop pushing it so hard. The progress will come." I'd pulled myself together while he talked, his love and belief in me as powerful as any medicine the doctors had prescribed. He pulled away from me.

"Patience is a virtue, Starsk." He said it real serious-like and it made me laugh. That felt so good. I could always count on Hutch to make things better. He was always there for me. That's what best friends and partners were all about. I was lucky to have mine all wrapped up in one beautiful person.

And like a good partner, I was going to try to get him to talk about what had been bothering him about this case. We finished breakfast leisurely, and while we cleaned up I decided it was time to bring up the subject.

"Hutch, I think you need to talk about it. About what's been bothering you on this case. You can't let this be a distraction for you out on the streets. Please tell me what's been botherin' ya." I think my plea was being heard, or maybe he was just finally ready to talk about it.

"They, um, we found them in a shipping container. Thirty-eight human lives, piled one on top of the other in a container. They'd been in there, very little food or water, hardly any air, for sixteen days. I don't know what they were thinking." He stopped, shaking his head. The pain in his statement was almost too much to watch.

"They came for freedom. A better life. The American Dream. Like my grandparents. Most of the population of this country can link back to ancestors who came looking for a better life." Hutch had been unusually closed-mouthed about this case. But it had been on the news; I knew what was coming next.

"Starsk, eighteen of them survived. Eighteen of thirty-eight women, girls, kids, survived. They must have known the risks. They had to know that they might have been walking in to a coffin when they entered the container in China. And if they didn't, then their husbands or fathers or mothers or brothers must have. Why?"

I knew I didn't have to explain this to him; he probably knew it better than I did. "They are an oppressed people, Hutch. Especially women. They had to think it was worth the risk. Look at how many have made it here. For every story that ends like this there's probably a hundred where everyone made it here alive. The journey was probably just as rough, but they made it. And those are the stories that get back to their homelands and convince others that it's worth it. The American Dream."

He looked at me and shook his head. And then he let out a sob and I knew that there'd be no stopping the floodgates. "Th-there were little girls…a-and teenagers…a-and m-mothers pressed up…against each other…dead…all dead," he managed to get out between sobs.

I sat down next to him on the couch and pulled him close. It hurt to do it, but I didn't care. My physical pain just then was inconsequential compared to Hutch's grief.

But I didn't think he was crying just for the loss of these twenty Chinese immigrants. I think it was also months worth of pent up feelings. Maybe some of it was the lingering guilt over our failing relationship in the months leading up to the shooting, the death of Lionel Rigger, the shock of the shooting and my near death and long recovery. Those Viking genes could only take so much.

I held him tight and let him cry it out. He needed it and I would stay holding him as long as he needed me. It felt good to be able to do something for him after so many months of him doing for me.

The crying stopped after a long while and he was starting to feel like dead weight against my shoulder. I knew I was gonna have to do something about that position before my body became numb. I eased out from under him and let him rest on the couch. I hoped he'd sleep for a while; I smiled thinking about two grown men crying themselves to sleep.

I was laying in bed reading when Hutch came in looking better than I'd seen him look in a long, long time.

"Hey, looks like the sleep did ya good, Blintz." I smiled at the big blond smiling back at me.

"Yeah, well crying yourself to sleep maybe should be a prescription for exhaustion." He smiled sheepishly.

"Probably only if it's paired with a good, long talk, pal. Hey, you hungry? It's almost two o'clock. I'm starved."

"You're always starved." Hutch looked away as he said it. I think he was feeling guilty about saying it. I had only gotten any kind of an appetite back just recently.

"Blondie, come on, will ya stop it? It was true before I got shot and it's true now. Don't feel guilty about sayin' it just 'cause it wasn't true for a coupla months. How does beef stew sound? We have some of Edith's beef stew left."

"Sounds great. I'm gonna go wash up." Hutch headed to the bathroom.

"I'm gonna put the stew on." I went to the kitchen. I had time to set the table while Hutch was in the bathroom.

I also had a little time to think about everything we had talked about and all that had happened in the last year. We really had been put through the wringer. Our lives had been thrown upside down and yet here we were, still standing. A little beat, a little tired. Different. But here. It reminded me of a song. It was sad, but uplifting at the same time – a lot like our lives.

Hutch came out of the bathroom. "Hey, Blintz, there's a song that kinda reminds me of what we've been going through lately."

"Really? What surrealist composer would write such a song?" He asked sarcastically.

"Well, I wouldn't call Paul Simon surreal. But I think his song "American Tune" is kinda eerily like what we've been living."

Hutch looked up with a knowing smile on his face. He nodded his silent agreement.

"You wanna sing it for me while we wait for lunch?" I asked encouragingly.

"I'll try to get through it if that's what you want, Gordo."

"I want." I walked over and grabbed his guitar. And he started singing.

Many's the time I've been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and I've often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
But I'm all right, I'm all right
I'm just weary to my bones
Still, you don't expect to be
Bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

I don't know a soul who's not been battered
I don't have a friend who feels at ease
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered
Or driven to its knees
But it's all right, it's all right
We've lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the road
We're traveling on
I wonder what's gone wrong
I can't help it, I wonder what's gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying

His voice broke on that word, "dying" and then I realized he had stopped singing. I had closed my eyes once he started. I opened them to see him staring at me, a smile on his face and tears in his eyes. I took this as a good sign. I think he was thinking of another line a little farther along in the song, because right then he was smiling reassuringly at me.

I didn't have to tell him, he just started back in when he knew we were both ready.

And I dreamed I was dying
I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying

We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the ages most uncertain hour
And sing an American tune
But it's all right, it's all right, it's all right
You can't be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day
And I'm trying to get some rest
That's all I'm trying to get some rest

The End