A bouquet of roses and lots of thanks to Solo and SHaron for all their help scanning and proofing these classic stories of Constance Collins! This story originally appeared in the zine Penal Code 2.
Comments about this story can be sent to: VenicePlaceAngel@aol.com
Terry: The Meeting
by
Constance Collins
Terry stared at the princess phone, willing it to ring. "You're over an hour late; the least you can do is call me and tell me why you're late... that you're alive, but we'll have to make it another night..."
The phone rang, startling her. "Hello."
"Is this Terry Robertson?"
"Yes."
"Miss Robertson, this is Harold Dobey..."
Terry didn't let him finish. "Is he all right?"
A slight chuckle. "I'm sure he's going to be fine. So far all we know is that he has a slight concussion and three broken fingers."
Three broken fingers? "Which hospital?"
"Memorial, but there's no reason for you to..."
"I'll be right there." Terry hung up. Relief ran through her, but it was tentative. She wanted to see him for herself.
"How do I fall this hard, this fast?" She'd been in love before, but it had never been like this. Dave was so many contradictions, she was sure she'd never fully understand him. looking back:
***
He'd been sent to the Marshall Center for Exceptional Children to give a talk on safety, as, he told her at lunch that same day, a punishment. Acting like he hated it had been the most difficult part; actually he was crazy about kids. He'd also seemed crazy about her and later that night at his place, he'd seemed just plain crazy. "So, you keep talking about this partner of yours; what's he really like?"
"Hutch?" Starsky stared off into space, thinking. "You wouldn't like him."
That surprised her. "Why not?"
"He has this terrible problem with women, they never like him. He's this really nerdy guy, only had one date in his whole life."
She'd been pretty sure he was lying, especially when he added that he was four foot three, totally bald, and 77 years old.
That had been the first in a series of insane stories about Hutch. The next time he was an albino, mute from birth, with an IQ of 39. In the past three months the only thing Terry was sure she could believe was something Starsky hadn't told her; he was crazy about his partner.
***
The nurse at admissions directed Terry to the ER, where a nurse was arguing with a tall, very good looking blond man. "I told you, the doctor will be out when he'll be out; you'll just have to wait."
"And I told you, I just want to make sure he's all right."
"Then you'll have to wait for the doctor. And if you don't keep your voice down, I'll call security to evict you."
The man's look said: Fat Chance, but he went back to the waiting area and sat down.
Terry walked over to the nurse. "Excuse me, I'm here about Dave Starsky..."
Before she could finish the question, the nurse snapped, "You'll have to wait for the doctor just like his partner."
Terry glanced over to the long row of chairs against the wall. That was Dave's partner? Seventy-seven-year-old, four-foot-three inch tall, nerdly albino mute? Oh my God. Terry's first thought was a wish that she'd brushed her hair and changed her clothes before she dashed out of the house. That's awful, she told herself. I just want to make a good impression, she rationalized. Yeah, sure you do.
Nervous, she walked over and sat down next to Hutch. He glanced up as she sat down, but he didn't really see her. I could have shaved my head and he'd never have noticed.
"Excuse me, are you Ken Hutchinson?"
He looked at her again, seeing her this time. "Yes."
"I'm Terry Robertson." Surprise on his face. What had Dave told him about her?
Hutch put out his hand to shake hers. "Nice to meet you."
"What do you know so far?" Terry asked.
Hutch shook his head. "Just a concussion and three broken fingers. It's been a zoo in here all night, things are pretty backed up, that's why it's taking so long."
"How did he break his fingers?"
"Guy knocked him down and stepped on his hand." Hutch shook his head again. "He's going to be fine; I know that. Why don't you let me buy you a cup of coffee?"
"Would you throw in a sandwich or something? I haven't eaten dinner yet."
Hutch smiled. "No problem. I've been wanting to meet you for a long time; this'll give us a chance to talk."
"Sounds great."
As they walked past the nurse's desk, Hutch spoke to her, "If the doctor shows up, page me. We're going to the cafeteria and we'll be right back."
As they walked past a row of pay phones, Hutch stopped. "Shit, I had a date tonight too, and completely forgot to call her. Would you mind?"
"No, go ahead." Terry stepped a discrete distance away, pretending to be absorbed in a stop smoking poster and not listening to his conversation.
"Susan, hi...it's me..." Silence, while Susan talked. "Yeah, I'm really sorry, Starsky..." More silence. "Actually, the doctors don't know yet, I'm sorry I forgot to call before now I... Susan, he's my partner... I didn't say he was more important, he's hurt, though... Yes, I'm sure the doctor is qualified, that's not the point..."
Irrationally angry, Terry strode over and took the receiver out of Hutch's hand. "Susan, my name is Terry Robertson. I was Dave's date tonight. I know we don't know each other, but I just want to tell you that you're being unreasonable. If anything, you should be grateful that it wasn't Hutch who was hurt. And, I, for one, am grateful that he's here for Dave... Hello?" Susan had hung up.
Hutch took the receiver out of Terry's hand. "Starsk was right about one thing; you're different."
Instantly embarrassed by what she'd done. "Oh...I'm sorry, I don't know why... I've never..."
"Hey, it was great, don't ruin it now."
"She'll probably never forgive you and it'll be all my fault."
"We better get you something to eat, you're becoming light-headed from hunger. Now, as for Susan; I've known her for all of two weeks. I'm sorry if I hurt her feelings, but you could hardly call what we had a great romance."
"I can't figure out why Dave hasn't wanted me to meet you?"
"What's he been telling you?" Hutch asked.
Terry laughed harder, unable to answer.
"You can tell me after we eat," Hutch said, leading her to the elevator.
"The food here is better than at the school," Terry remarked, having finished a chicken salad sandwich, a piece of pumpkin pie and a glass of iced tea.
"School? Starsky didn't tell me you were going to school."
"I'm not going to school, I'm teaching it. I teach at the Marshall Center." She was pleased to note Hutch's look of appreciation. "That's where we met. Didn't he tell you?"
Hutch shook his head. "He said he met you in a sewer."
"What?" Terry nearly spilled tea on herself.
"I didn't believe him," Hutch hastily added. "For one thing, he couldn't give me a plausible reason for having been in the sewer himself. Later on, he told me he'd caught you trying to steal his car and he's been trying to rehabilitate you. I didn't buy that one either."
"No, anyone caught touching the sacred car would be shot on sight," Terry agreed, and was relieved when Hutch laughed. "That car's pretty stiff competition."
"What did he tell you about me?" Hutch asked.
Terry started to repeat some of Starsky's stories about him. By the time she was finished there were tears running down Hutch's face.
"Stop, please, my stomach's starting to hurt."
"Why does he do this?"
"Don't start trying to figure him out, you'll get ulcers. No one has any idea why he does the things he does. I asked his mother once and she said she didn't understand him either." Looking at his watch, "You want to go back? Maybe somebody knows something by now?"
When they got back there was a different nurse at the desk, one Hutch hadn't yelled at, and she agreed to find out what was going on. After a few moments a harried, tired-looking doctor came out. "Detective Hutchinson? I'm Dr. McLean. Your partner's going to be fine; in fact, if you'd like to take him home, you can, if you promise to keep him quiet for twenty-four hours. We're not having much success."
"Thanks, Doctor. I'll take care of it."
"Wonderful. He'll be out in a few minutes."
And, a few minutes later Starsky was wheeled out to the desk. "Hey, Ter, what're you doing here?"
"Your captain called to tell me you'd been hurt. Are you ok?"
Starsky held up his splinted right hand. "Broke three fingers. Good thing it wasn't my left."
"There have been nurses wandering up and down the halls, begging people to get you out of here," Hutch told him.
"You're not any too popular around here, either, ya know." Starsky told him. "I could hear you yelling all the way down in X-ray. Made my head hurt."
"Yeah? They find any of the rocks in your head missing?"
"Figure I gotta have rocks in my head to keeping you around all these years..."
Terry suddenly felt entirely superfluous. He was happy to see her, but the only one he saw was Hutch. For a moment she wanted to walk away and leave them together, forget all about Dave Starsky's beautiful blue eyes and his silly stories. "The green in your eyes is showing, old girl," she said under her breath.
Starsky took her hand. "How ya doin'?"
"Fine." It was true. "You lied to me, you know."
"Me? 'Bout what?"
"You told me he was a four-foot tall albino."
"He fooled you with those stilts too, huh? You can't believe how many people fall for that. And, of course he darkens his hair..."
"If you did have brain damage, how would anyone ever be able to tell?" Hutch asked.
She watched them argue. All right, so she couldn't be the most important person in his life. That spot was already filled. She could live with that. And Hutch was the one person who had some control over keeping him alive. She'd have to be understanding about the job, humor him about his car, and accept the fact that he loved Hutch more than he'd ever love anybody. She'd give it her best shot.