6Hutch Takes a Holiday
It's Friday afternoon and our shift is nearly over. We've stopped for a coffee break and are sitting in Starsky's car, watching the world go by. I can't put it off any longer. Time to break the news. "Starsk."
"Yeah."
"I need a holiday…So I'm taking next week off. I've cleared it with Dobey. We haven't got any big cases on at the moment. You can easily finish off the Harrison case yourself and after that Dobey said you can either go out with another pair of detectives or work on your own for a week. Whatever you prefer."
Starsky turns to face me. "What?"
Repeating the information, I speak slowly, as if he's stupid, deaf or both: "A holiday. Next week. Me."
"I heard what you said, moron. I'm just wondering why you didn't tell me before now. I could have booked the week off, too."
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Sorry, didn't think…This won't stop us taking our week later in the year…It's just I need a bit of time to myself. I need to recharge my batteries."
Starsky drinks the last of his coffee and then frowns at me. "It's a bit sudden, isn't it? Something happen, I don't know about?"
I want to say: "It's not sudden. I planned this last weekend. We've been together every moment for six months, or at least that's what it feels like. I need a break from you: from your constant humming; from your reciting poems and limericks; from you telling me useless facts at all hours of the day and night; and from you stinking up my car with sauerkraut and onions."
Instead I say, "Just had enough of the domestic disturbances, the hypes, the assaults and the death. I just need a break from it all."
Starsky shrugs, accepting my answer. "Okay, babe. 'Slong as you're okay and nothing's wrong. Want me to come over some evenings?"
"Er…I'm going to be out most days, don't know what time I'll be back." Thinking on my feet, I add, "And I was thinking of going to Santa Barbara for a couple of days. I want to go to the Botanic Gardens there."
"Oh." Starsky wrinkles his nose. Looking at flowers is not his idea of a good time. "Well, hope you have fun. D'ya need me to water your plants while you're gone?"
"Um…I'll ask my neighbour to do it. Don't worry about it."
"Okay."
Starsky gets out of the car and takes the trash to the bin and I breathe a sigh of relief. It's never easy lying to Starsky. He knows me too well. It isn't that I don't love the guy but sometimes…sometimes I just need a break. Surely, he could do with a break from me too?
Starsky contacts Dispatch and signs us out and then drives me home. As he pulls up outside my place, he smiles at me and says, "Have a good week off, Blintz. Hope you get your batteries back up to full."
"Thanks. I'm sure you'll have a good week without me, too. I know I've been grumpy a lot recently."
Starsky shrugs as if to say he hasn't noticed. Maybe he hasn't.
"Well, see you in a week." I shut the car door and step back.
Through the open window, Starsky calls out, "Bye," and then speeds off.
Filled with a sudden sense of freedom, I take the steps up to my apartment, two at a time.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I wake up on Saturday morning to brilliant sunshine pouring in the window and stretch out my stiff muscles with enjoyment. A whole week off. Peace and quiet, plants to see and buy, no Starsky. Fantastic…Wonder what he's going to do with his time away from me?
I've been thinking about visiting a nursery I've heard about. It's in West Los Angeles. Maybe I should take advantage of the lovely day and get up and get going. Within half an hour, I'm out on the road, heading towards the edge of LA and the Hashimoto Nursery. It's a family run business that's been around forever and has a huge collection of different bamboo. Suddenly, I am reminded of Starsky reading out an interview with Bruce Lee to me while we were stuck on a stakeout. There was a quote of an old proverb Starsky liked, something about - "The stiffest tree is easily cracked while the bamboo survives by bending in the wind."
I roll my eyes at myself. Even when he's not here, I can hear him talking. I really do need this break.
The Hashimoto Nursery is beautiful: one of the most peaceful places I have ever been to. I lose track of time, sitting on a bench in the Zen garden, looking at the patterns in the gravel and the moss on the rocks. It's living art and it talks to me. Starsky would hate the silence but he'd like the imagery, I'm sure. I potter for ages in the plant centre, um-ing and ah-ing between buying a bamboo or a bonsai tree. In the end, I plump for a golden bamboo. The girl, who serves me, smiles prettily and says, "Hope you'll visit us again."
As I lay the bamboo carefully against the back seat, with its pot wedged behind the passenger seat, I say to Starsky, "She was pretty, wasn't she? Think she liked me?" Then I realise he's not there to answer.
I spend Sunday introducing my new bamboo to its home and deciding on a name for it. Bruce Lee keeps springing to mind so that's what it ends up being called. Starsky would approve. I water and prune my other plants and enjoy sitting amongst them while I eat my dinner. It's a restful day. I wonder if I could make a miniature Zen garden in here?
On Monday, I plan my trip to Santa Barbara and then go for a jog at the park. I think I see a red and white Torino going past the entrance to the park but the car's gone before I can be sure. I hope it wasn't Starsky: in case he gets miffed that I'm obviously still at home but haven't asked him to meet for a beer or come round for a pizza. I don't want him to know I'm avoiding him. I wouldn't hurt his feelings for the world.
On the way to Santa Barbara, I keep seeing billboards advertising the Santa Barbara Zoo: the first one has a picture of colourful parrots and giraffes on it – Starsky loves parrots, I love giraffes; the second announces it's the tenth anniversary of the zoo and visitors on Fridays in June get a free ice cream of their choice – Starsky loves a freebie; the third shows a picture of the 2ft narrow gauge railway going around the zoo – Starsky would be rubbing his hands in anticipation. But he's not here. This is my vacation. I have no need to go to the zoo. I'm going to the Botanic Gardens and I'm going to enjoy it, I remind myself.
And I do. The Botanic Garden is stunning. There's an historic dam and aqueduct that were built in 1807 to supply water to the Santa Barbara Mission. As I walk around, I discover the Japanese Teahouse and Tea Garden and linger there for a good while; reminded of the Japanese nursery I went to on Saturday. As the day grows hotter, I walk through the Redwood grove and linger under the coolness of the trees. I find a little bench tucked away just off the main path and sit myself down to soak in the peace and quiet.
A piece of a poem by WH Auden walks through my mind:
As I listened from a beach-chair in the shade
To all the noises that my garden made,
It seemed to me only proper that words
Should be withheld from vegetables and birds.
It's a slightly mournful poem and I don't know why I'm thinking of it. I don't feel mournful. I feel good, rested. I needed to find some peace and quiet and a time without words. My work is filled with words – hardly any of them pleasant – it's nice to be away from them.
I don't mind Starsky's words really. It's just sometimes I need some quiet. But once the quiet is finished with, it's nice to talk about what you've done and what you've seen. It's nice to share words with a friend.
Time is getting on as I make my way to the gift shop. I don't intend on buying anything but a poster on the wall catches my eye. It's of a tree silhouetted against a sinking sun and says:
Four things you can't recover:
The STONE after the throw.
The WORD after it's said.
The OCCASION after it's missed.
The TIME after it's gone.
For some reason my mind adds a fifth:
The FRIENDSHIP after it's lost.
When I get home, it's getting late but I make the call anyway.
"Hello."
"It's me."
"Hey, buddy. How's the holiday going? Where ya been? What ya seen?"
"Lots. D'you want to come over and I'll tell you about it over a beer?"
"Great. See you in fifteen."
Fifteen minutes later, Starsky's sitting on my sofa drinking beer and letting me tell him all about nurseries, plants and gardens he has no interest in. He does like the name of my new bamboo though.
"So I was wondering," I say cautiously, "Do you think Dobey would let you have Friday off as it's not that busy at work?"
"Already booked," Starsky informs me.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I figured you'd never last a week without me. So where are we going?"
I open my mouth to protest that I have been doing just fine without him and then close it and shake my head. "I wondered if you'd like to go to the Santa Barbara Zoo. It's their tenth anniversary and they're offering a free ice cream to visitors on Fridays, they've got parrots and giraffes, and there's a narrow gauge train. What do you think?"
"Sounds perfect."
I don't know if perfect is the right word to describe Starsky. He can be intensely annoying but I wouldn't change him for anything so I guess that's close enough to perfect for me.
