Red and White Thoughts – Blindfold
To tell you the truth, I don't really understand what's been going on around here lately. I don't know why Starsky suddenly stopped going into work and spent half his time at home or out walking, taking photographs. He wasn't sick, he wasn't on vacation, he wasn't undercover. It was like something just hit him and he couldn't face being a cop for a while.
Hmm, his mood reminded me a little of that time he blamed himself for the death of that Lonnie kid. Ya remember how he was?
The more I think about it, this started after my partners got called to a robbery in progress and there was an exchange of gunfire.
I didn't have a clear view of what happened, which is always a worrying time for me - waiting to see if my two partners are both still in one piece - but soon I saw them both walking around, dealing with uniforms and bystanders, seemingly unharmed.
I did see an ambulance arrive a little after the incident. I think a witness got injured, maybe that had something to do with Starsky's guilt ridden mood?
Over the next couple of days, Hutch came around more than once, trying to knock some sense into the dark haired half of our trio, but to little avail. Then today suddenly, Starsky seems to be walking lighter; as if a burden's been lifted. That means my heart is lighter too.
I can hear him whistling today as he cleans, back to his cheery self. I hear the vacuum cleaner going just as Hutch arrives. It shuts off and all seems peaceful. Harmony restored to our world.
But what's this? What on earth is Hutch do-Hutch! Oh no!
Hutch just came out of the apartment wearing a blindfold - I can't for the life of me think why! - and unsurprisingly he's tripped over a trash can and half fallen down the stairs! The can is still bouncing its way down to street level.
Where's Starsky?
Hutch has managed to stop his free fall halfway down the flight of stairs, but I'm pretty sure he's banged his head hard. He's pulled the blindfold off and is just sitting there, nursing his sore head and looking stunned. Is that blood on his forehead?
Where's Starsky? If only I could blast my own horn and get his attention!
After what seems an eternity, the door opens and Starsky sticks his head out. His face blanches. Within two seconds, he's by Hutch's side, checking his partner out and mumbling curses.
I hear him say, "Stay there," before he rushes back into his apartment. Seconds later, he's back with his jacket, keys, a blanket and a wad of cotton wool, which he gets Hutch to hold against the small wound on his head.
As if handling a newborn kitten, Starsky gently pulls his partner to his feet and wraps the blanket around him, before steering him in my direction. He helps Hutch into the passenger side, dashes round to the driver's side, then does up Hutch's seat belt for him before starting my engine.
I know where we're headed - Memorial hospital.
I can hear Starsky muttering, "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"
That cloud, that guilt-ridden clinging fog, is back. I'm not the only one who senses it. As always, even whilst dazed, Hutch is in tune with his partner. With his free hand, he reaches out and lightly touches Starsky's neck, soothing him, shushing away the self-loathing.
Starsky quietens and calms a little, but the cloud doesn't lift.
After a couple of minutes, he swallows hard and says, "Hutch, I'm so sorry...Forgive me. I didn't think how dangerous it could be if you went out the front door."
Hutch nods carefully and says, "I shouldn't have been so sure of myself. You're forgiven, partner. Don't dwell on it. Okay?"
He squeezes Starsky's shoulder gently and with words and touch manages to ease some of the guilt away. And then we're at the hospital and the two of them disappear inside.
I could really do with a week or two without the need for a visit here. I've a good mind to tell Starsky that when he returns!