Title: To SHare a Life, You Gotta Start Somewhere
Author: Jennifer C.
Type: Gen
Summary: The title pretty much summarizes it!
Disclaimer: Celebrating an anniversary.
Notes: 2006 SHarecon Zine story.
Format: Story
Categories: Humor, Zine Story
Rating: PG
Size: 28K
Date Added: 2008-07-25
To SHare a Life, You Gotta Start Somewhere
by Jennifer C.
"Doncha wanna see what I have in my bag?"
Sighing, Ken Hutchinson slowly looked up from the book he was trying to study from and glanced at his roommate. He knew Starsky had been standing there waiting to be noticed, and he should have known by now that ignoring him never worked. Whatever Starsky wanted, Hutch hoped it would be quick so that he could get back to studying the chapter on Laws of Arrest he found so interesting.
"Do I really have a choice?" he answered, closing his book loudly.
His lack of interest must have been picked up by Starsky because a slight look of disappointment crossed his features. He turned his back to Hutch quickly. "Well, I won't force you if you don't wanna..." He started to walk over to their side-by-side closets.
"No, I do," Hutch said, rising from his desk. "Show me what you got."
Starsky turned slightly, just eyeing Hutch over his shoulder. "Okay," he smiled and then proceeded to practically leap over to where the blond was standing. It didn't take much, Hutch had discovered, to make Starsky happy.
Continuing over to the bed, Starsky upended his bag, tossing it next to the things that had come tumbling out. "Ta da!" Starsky said proudly.
Hutch turned and stood beside Starsky looking at the items on his bed. There was a flashlight, a tide guide and two small gunny sacks.
"That's it? What's this stuff for?" Hutch asked, not concealing the disenchanted tone accompanying his questions. I'm interrupting my studying for this pile of junk? he thought, but didn't say.
"And here I thought you were the big-time fisherman." Starsky turned to him, hands on hips, an incredulous look in his eyes. "Ain't you never seen fishing gear before?"
"I've seen it." Hutch said quickly. And then he couldn't help defending himself, "... and used some of the best money could buy. I've been out on chartered boats catching marlins in the Gulf of Mexico and fly fishing for trout in Montana. So I know what fishing equipment is. And this is not it." Hutch poked at the flashlight with his finger, eyeing it like a coiled snake.
But Starsky was not deterred by his attitude. "Ah, but it is, my dear Hutch. You are sorely lacking in your fishing education and sittin' here on a Saturday night is not doing anything to improve the situation, which obviously needs improving." He gathered the items together and put them back in one of the sacks. "We are going fishing." Starsky checked his watch. "Now, in fact."
"What?" Hutch looked over at the clock radio beside his bed. "It's almost 11 o'clock. At night."
"I know." Starsky walked over to grab his and Hutch's windbreakers hanging together on the back of the front door. "It's not too late if we go now. C'mon." He threw Hutch's jacket at him.
"Wait a minute." Hutch grabbed his coat in mid-air before it could hit him in the face. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm studying. And you should be too. There's a test on Monday. Remember that one? You haven't even opened your book yet."
"Hutch, that's what Sundays are for. Well, when it's not football season. I'll study tomorrow. Don't you know that about me by now? Have I gotten a bad score yet?"
Hutch knew he hadn't. And really, it didn't seem fair to him. Barley two months into the academy and the two of them were among the top of the class in test scores. And Starsky never spent the entire weekends studying like he usually did. Or like he tried to, unless Starsky was trying to drag him away somewhere, like tonight. So he huffed out a breath and crossed his arms. Starsky only laughed at him.
"Oh, come on now." Starsky strode over to him and draped an arm casually over his shoulders. It was something he often did, but when Starsky had first touched him that way, Hutch had grabbed his arm and almost ended up flipping Starsky with one of his wrestling moves. Starsky had been startled, but not deterred, and now Hutch found he liked the friendly contact. It made him feel... apart of something.
"What." Hutch said curtly.
"C'mon, be a sport. Come fishing with me. You won't regret it." Starsky's voice was as smooth as dark chocolate and just as tempting.
"Where were you thinking of going?" Hutch asked, feeling himself starting to give in.
"To a little beach I know of down in Venice." Starsky answered.
"All the way over there?" Now he was sure he wouldn't get any studying done tonight. "That's at least a forty-five minute drive."
"I know it's a little far." Starsky said. "But you'll like it there. It's an interesting spot and the beaches won't be as crowded as some others'll be. It'll be a good place for us. I can feel it."
"What do you mean? What exactly are we catching?" Hutch asked.
"Ever hear of the Californian Grunion?" Starsky whispered near his ear.
"No." Hutch whispered back. This is ridiculous.
"Well, come on then and I'll tell you all about 'em." Starsky said in a normal voice.
Looking one last time into Starsky's eyes, Hutch could see sincerity lurking there behind the wide, cocky grin. He conceded. "Okay. But if this turns out to be like snipe hunting, and I'm wasting my evening for nothing, I'm gonna... I'm gonna-"
"Yes, yes, Hutch," Starsky interrupted, patting him on the back. "You do that. You just do that." Starsky went to the door and walked out carrying the bag full of their fishing supplies and whistling a tune.
Hutch couldn't stop muttering to himself as he slipped his jacket on and followed his roommate out the door.
"No, really." Starsky shot back. Okay, he'd admit it to himself: Hutch's attitude was starting to get to him. All he had wanted to do was to get Hutch out. Away from the Academy. Away from books and studying and four walls and see some... life.
"But you gotta see why I'm skeptical, Starsky." Hutch said, disbelief sounding in all his words. "A fish that only comes out when the moon is full?"
"Not full. You haven't been listening." Starsky said his voice starting to sound drained.
"Oh, yes I have. When I get dragged away from studying I want to know exactly what's going on." Hutch said. "So, to sum up this adventure of yours: We are going to a beach, in Venice, to stand at the water's edge with our flashlight and wait for the fish, who somehow magically know when the tide is high, so that they can start riding the waves ashore where we will then basically reach down and pick them up, putting them in our respective sacks."
"Yes." Starsky simply said.
"No fishing poles, no bait, nothing else is needed but what you have in your precious little bag."
"Yes." Starsky repeated.
Hutch paused, seemingly waiting for more explanation. When nothing came, he took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. "Well, I guess this experience is going to have to fall into the category of seeing is believing," he said.
"And tasting," Starsky said, becoming more animated. "Just you wait, when we eat the fruits of our hard labor, washing it all down with a tall cold one, well, Hutch, it just doesn't get too much better than that."
"If you say so," Hutch said. "I'm going by faith here. Just goin' by faith..."
And that's exactly what I'm looking for, buddy, Starsky thought.
They were quiet on the rest of the ride into Venice. In the few months Starsky had known Hutch, he had found his playful side to be carefully buried. Why, Starsky didn't know. But it was there. He'd heard it sometimes in his laugh and he could feel it sometimes in his body language. It usually peeked out when it was just the two of them. He felt certain Hutch would let him in on his life when the time was right. And something was telling him that becoming a part of that life was worth sticking around for. Just as Hutch was becoming a part of his life was somehow important. So, in order to get, he, Starsky, was willing to give.
Soon Starsky was pulling his car into a parking space in a lot by the beach. They both got out, stretching after the long ride.
"Why don't you wait here a second while I go down to the little store over there and get us some beer," Starsky said.
Hutch nodded in the affirmative leaning back against the trunk of the car and looking out at the ocean.
Starsky took off jogging. Quickly entering the store, he found the beer, paid for it and walked back to his car as fast as he could without jostling the beer too much. Hutch had a habit of taking off in the other direction if he didn't want to do something. He'd done it only last week when they and a few of the other guys had gone to a bar downtown. One minute they were all looking for girls to dance with and the next, Hutch was gone and Starsky didn't see him until he'd returned to their room some four hours later. Had to study Hutch had used as an excuse.
Hutch was still waiting by the car when he returned. "Good, you're still here," Starsky said.
The blond gave him a curious look.
"Here, have a sip." Starsky pulled two cans out of the bag and handed one to Hutch.
"Shouldn't we go down to the water—wait a minute. Starsky." Hutch stopped abruptly.
Starsky looked at him, can of beer at his mouth. "What?
"I can't go fishing. I don't have a license." Hutch pushed at Starsky's shoulder.
"Shit!" Starsky looked down at his shirt, pulling a small wet spot away from his skin. "Look what you did. Can you open the trunk and get me a towel?" When Hutch didn't move, he added, "Please?"
"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Hutch opened the back and rummaged around. "I don't have a license. I can't go fishing. You dragged me out here for nothing." Hutch actually sounded a little disappointed.
Starsky snatched the offered towel and dabbed at the stain. "Sure you do. I picked one up for you today when I was getting our equipment." Starsky set the towel and beer down and brought out his wallet. "Can't go around getting citations for illegal fishin' now, can we?" Starsky found the license with the right name on it and handed it to Hutch.
A small grin played about the Hutch's lips as he looked at the paper offered him. "You..."
"Don't you know by now?" Starsky held his arms out, away from his sides, looking intently at his roommate. "I've gotcha covered, buddy."
Hutch smiled at him. "Yep. I'm beginning to think you do."
The moment was interrupted by a group of kids returning to their car. They were talking loudly amongst themselves; something about fishing being a sham. Hutch's look turned to one of consternation.
"Well let's get going then." Starsky clapped his hands together, not wanting the spell to be broken too much by the intruders. "You get the towels and beer and I'll get a blanket and our equipment."
"What if what those guys are saying is true," Hutch said reaching for more towels in the trunk. "What if there really isn't any fish. You actually ever done this before?"
Starsky turned to look at him after he had gotten their gear. "Of course I've done this before." Starsky said. "John Blaine used to take me when I was a kid. Remember when I introduced you to him the other day?"
"Yeah, your cop friend." They started walking to the beach.
"John taught me all the secrets. Those kids don't know anything. According to the moon cycle, today is the second day after the full moon. Remember the tide book I have? Right about now is just after the highest tide. The best time for the runs is at least an hour after the tide starts to go down, not now. That might be something they don't know. We'll find a quiet little place and wait. We'll wait. The fish'll be there. I promise."
They walked a little ways south along the shore. Hutch was surprised at the number of people there. At least thirty or forty groups were running along the water's edge, flashlights shooting light toward the sand. Try as he might, Hutch couldn't see anything yet, and it didn't seem as though any of the people had caught anything either. Still they walked on. Finally, the groups thinned out.
"Here we are. The perfect place." Starsky spread out the blanket near some driftwood and lay down. He was on his back, looking up at the night sky, twiddling his thumbs, very much relaxed.
Hutch remained standing, looking out to sea. "How do you know this is the perfect place?" he asked. "It looks to me like there are a lot of people here who aren't catching anything. How can you be so sure the fish will be here?" He used his arms in wide sweeping gestures to emphasize his points.
"Lie down and relax, babe." Starsky patted the open space beside him.
"And now it looks like a bunch of people are leaving. And it's almost twelve o'clock now. I think we missed it."
"Would you relax?" Starsky sat up and looked at him. "Sit down. Have another beer. I'd say, oh maybe about another thirty minutes or so and the tide will be perfect. Patience, Hutch. Didn't you know that about fishing?"
"Didn't I—?" Hutch closed his mouth. He was working on trusting Starsky during this quest, not arguing with him. "Okay. Whatever you say."
"Good." Starsky smiled up at him. "Now sit down next to me and tell me about fishing in the Keys. It sounds like that was a lot of fun."
They spent the next half hour drinking more beer and talking about fishing, hunting and other outdoor pursuits of which, besides the grunion fishing, Starsky had done very little of. Someday Hutch would have to introduce his love of nature to his pal by taking him camping or perhaps doing more fishing.
Finally Starsky checked his watch. "I think it's time now, Hutch, lets go looking for those fish." He sat up and took off his shoes, rolling the hem of his jeans up to just below the knees. Hutch followed his lead.
Taking the flashlight in one hand and the gunny sack in the other Starsky got up and shouted, "Don't forget your bag!" and he took off without looking back, running toward the surf.
Grabbing his own bag, Hutch followed behind, laughing at the silliness of it all. Even if there really wasn't any fish called a grunion, he had to admit he was having a fun time.
Finally catching up with his friend, he scanned the area of the water Starsky was shinning the flashlight on. Nothing.
Looking further up the beach, Hutch could still make out quite a lot of people wading in the surf, using lights of their own, looking for the elusive fish. "It still doesn't look like anyone has caught anything," he said, jumping back before the water touched his feet.
"They're looking in the wrong place." Starsky was shinning his light not on the sand like the others were doing, but further out, about twenty feet in front of them. "C'mon," he said, splashing south along the shoreline, heading even further away from the crowds.
They stopped after a few yards and Starsky flashed his light into the ocean again. After a minute or two of silently scanning the area, Hutch was just about to voice his frustration again when there, in the curling white water of the crest of a wave was a small fish. An actual fish. He couldn't believe it. "There!" Hutch yelled, pointing.
"Shh! don't broadcast it," Starsky said with a touch of annoyance. He shined his light on the wave, following its path into the shoreline. "I don't see it. Might have been some garbage."
"No, no!" Hutch said excitedly. "I saw it." He grabbed the flashlight away from Starsky and cast its light on the water scanning the area where he saw the first one. "There!" he pointed. "Another one! Watch it come in."
"Yeah, okay. I see it now." Starsky said, equally excited. "Hey, he's got some friends with him this time!"
And it was true. The next wave had a handful of fish riding it to shore.
They stepped back and watched as the small group of fish stranded themselves on the beach. Hutch bent down and reached out his hand. Before he could make his first catch of the night, Starsky grabbed his arm and tugged at him until he was standing up again. He looked back at his friend, but Starsky was still looking at the fish.
"Wait a minute, kay?" Starsky said, glancing at him for a second. He backed up a few feet more, pulling Hutch with him, the edges of the successive waves lapping at their feet. "Don't shine the light directly on them." He pushed Hutch's hand to the side so that the few fish were highlighted in the dimmer outer ring of the beam of light. "Watch them. It's real interesting how they... uh, make babies."
Hutch counted seven fish in the group they were watching. After arriving on shore, they had continued to try and swim up on the beach as far as the little water left over from the receding wave would let them. Now, two of the fish about two feet apart, started to drill themselves into the soft sand, tail down, by wiggling their bodies back and forth. As they did this, Hutch noticed a kind of grunting sound that seem to be coming from the fish. It was hard to tell above the noise of the waves. He looked over at Starsky. His friend looked up at him at the same moment.
"Hear 'em?" he asked.
Hutch smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah," he replied. Looking back, the fish that weren't burying themselves in the sand had started to wrap themselves around the partially buried ones. Those must be the males, he though. After they both twisted and wiggled for a few more seconds, the males moved away catching a wave back out to sea while the buried females violently jerked themselves out of the hole they had just dug. Another wave washed over them, and soon the whole group was back out in the ocean.
Hutch couldn't believe it. Grunion. They were real. He looked down at his feet and the surf that came up to his ankles.
"Come on, buddy," Starsky was saying. "Let's catch some!" He was bending down, grabbing at some more fish that had come ashore and putting a few of them in his bag. "Damn, but they're slippery son of a bitches." He laughed as a squirming fish jumped out of his hand and back into the water. "Yikes!"
Hutch finally snapped out of his trance when Starsky, reaching for some more, slipped and fell in the sand. "Starsky!" he yelled, rushing over to him.
But Starsky jumped up, whipping his wet butt and laughing. "They're slippery under your feet too. Gross!"
Hutch laughed at the expression on his friends face and in a moment of playfulness kicked some water at him.
Starsky stood there staring down at his jeans that were now wet in front as well. Then he dropped his sack and started after Hutch. "I'll get you for that, Hutchinson," he growled mischievously.
Hutch took a step back and yelped when his foot touched a squishy fish. He backed up a few more steps, pointing, "Starsky, your bag. You're loosing your fish!" Then he turned and ducked, taking another step back hoping that Starsky would miss tackling him. He was wrong. His quick roommate grabbed him lightly around the neck, holding him in a head lock.
"Now say you're sorry, buddy boy," Starsky said, spinning around and dragging them backward up toward the drier sand.
"Never!" Hutch laughed at him, trying to break free. And suddenly he was, only to be tackled backwards, landing on his back on the sand. "Hey," he said, faking aggravation. "Now I'm covered in sand." Starsky got up and loomed above him, an unapologetic grin on his face.
But Hutch could be quick too. He swiftly rolled forward, grabbing the unsuspecting man around the knees, taking Starsky down in a wresting move similar to the one he had wanted to use on him months ago. The sudden whoosh of air that expelled from Starsky's lungs as Hutch landed on him gave him a thrilling rush of adrenaline through his veins.
Then they were laughing again and rolling around, both trying to gain the advantage. Hutch was on top first and proceeded to start tickling Starsky unmercifully.
"Stop, st-stop it, Hutch!" Starsky almost shrieked. "Not fair." He tried to grab hold of Hutch's hands. "Not fair!"
"You got my clean jacket dirty, you dirtball." Hutch retorted, keeping his fingers moving.
"Y-you started it!" Starsky couldn't stop laughing and was soon gasping for breath.
Hutch's mistake was to fall for the trick, thinking that maybe he was really too heavy to be sitting on the smaller man and that maybe Starsky was really having a hard time catching his breath. He stilled his hands and lifted his body ever so slightly.
That was all it took for Starsky to pounce. Once again Hutch found himself on his back staring at his roommate's triumphant smile.
"Sweet revenge, at last!" Starsky shouted. He lifted his fingers, wiggling them, poised to start some tickling of his own, when he glanced up.
Suddenly Starsky stilled, eyes going wide. "Hey, Hutch! Look behind you," he said getting off the blond and standing up.
Hutch slowly rolled onto his stomach, like in a dream and cast his eyes toward the shore. The grunion. He'd almost forgotten about them during their impromptu romp in the sand. There were hundreds of them up on the beach now. Maybe thousands. It was a squirming sea of black and silver as far north and south as his eyes could see. And all those grunion together made the oddest sound he had ever heard.
Slowly he rose, unbelieving what his senses were telling him. He could see that a few of the groups of people had moved down to where he and Starsky had seen the first grunion come ashore. Their flashlights lights were bobbing up and down as they moved around reaching for the fish.
"C'mon," Starsky said, pulling him along by the arm. "Let's see if our bags are still there so we can get a few of these beauties." Starsky pulled the flashlight out of Hutch's jacket pocket and hurried back down to the surf. Hutch followed after him. Soon they were tip-toeing around, trying to find spots of sand the fish were not occupying so that they could continue their search for the sacks.
"It's hopeless, Starsk," Hutch finally said. "I don't see them anywhere. I think those things might have washed out—wait!" He walked cautiously to where he thought he saw a lump of material. "Here's one." He reached down and seized the bag before the next wave could take it away. Moving a few inches to his right, he snagged himself his first grunion. "I got one!" he said proudly, holding it out to show Starsky before putting it in his bag.
"Atta boy," Starsky said. "I knew we'd make a right fisherman outta you." Starsky crept up beside him. "I can't find my bag. Can I share yours?"
Hutch stilled, sensing more behind the question than the obvious. Smiling, he turned to Starsky, not even hesitating with his answer. "Sure I will, buddy. What's mine is yours."
Starsky nodded. "Well then, let's go at this thing properly."
Soon they were working together, catching fish, depositing them in the bag, hanging onto each other so they wouldn't fall into the water or step on the squiggly fish. Hutch didn't think he'd ever had so much fun. "I got another one!" he said, getting right back into the fishing spirit. "Woops." It slipped out of his hand, so he reached for another.
Starsky laughed, catching his own fish. "Hold out your bag. I've got one here. Here!"
There was still quite a lot of fish on the sand and it was still quite easy to snatch them. They could each grab a few without having to move too far away from each other.
Around them the other people continued to catch fish too, but Hutch really didn't notice. He was too wrapped up in what they were doing. When the bag was about half full, they decided to stop.
Standing at the shoreline, letting the ends of the waves wash over his feet, Starsky said, "You know, I've never seen so many fish before. I've heard of the big runs, of course. But I wasn't sure I'd ever see one. When I've gone before, we might find a few hundred fish, and then those had to be shared by the few hundred people there fishing for them. Do you think there were around a thousand fish up here tonight, Hutch?"
"Could be." Hutch said looking around. "Probably more."
"And see, they go almost as quickly as they come." Starsky also looked around the sand and then consulted his watch. "Yep. They're heading back out now." They stood there, watching the waves and the grunion, and after a few minutes, all the fish were gone. All gone, almost as if they had never been there. Hutch blinked. If it hadn't been for the bag he was carrying, he might have thought it was all a dream.
"Uhh..." Hutch uttered. "What do we do now?" The moment seemed almost sacred.
"Why we eat them of course. What else do you think we'd do?" Starsky tugged at his arm. "Come on, let's get our stuff and get outta here."
After they'd gathered the towels, blanket and left-over beer, they started back toward the car.
"Starsky," Hutch said. "How are we going to fix them? We don't have a kitchen or even any cooking equipment we can use."
"I've got you covered there too, babe," Starsky said. "I have a friend who's a cook in a kitchen over in Bay City. We'll head on over there and I'll introduce you to him. His name's Huggy. If we bring him some beer and let him have some of the catch, you can clean the fish using his stuff. He'll cook."
"I can..." he trailed off. "Now I see why you brought me along," Hutch teased. "You need me to prepare the fish for eating."
"Aw, come on," Starsky protested. "Would I do that to you?"
Hutch chuckled. "Of course you would," he said. "Do you even know how?"
"I do, but it's slimy and icky," Starsky said with his best whining voice. "I bet a big, experienced fisherman like you can do it better and quicker than me."
"I'm sure I can do it better than you, but watch who you're callin' quick." The playful verbal sparing back and forth was fun. Starsky, he knew, was trying to make the relationship between them strong and taking him out tonight had been part of that plan; sharing an experience from his past that he thought Hutch would enjoy too. Someday soon he'd return the favor because it was important to him as well that they from a tight friendship.
As they reached the car, Starsky opened the trunk and took the bag of grunion Hutch handed him. "They'll do quite nicely in the cooler." He opened it up and laid the bag carefully on the ice. "I was sure we were going to hit it big tonight. Only I didn't know it would be that good." He grinned up at Hutch, obviously very proud of their catch.
"You promised and you delivered," Hutch said. "Really, I'm impressed. And I had a lot of fun." Hutch all of a sudden felt shy. "And thanks. I mean it. Thanks for making me come out with you tonight."
Starsky closed the trunk and smiled up at him, reaching for him and squeezing the muscles in the back of his neck. "Sure, Hutch, sure. Just trust me to know what you need next time I want to take you somewhere."
Hutch nodded his acceptance and held out his hands, "Okay, okay, I trust you. I guess sometimes you really do know what I need. But sometimes I know what you need. And tomorrow we study."
"Okay, buddy. It's a deal," Starsky said as they got in the car. He revved the engine and pulled out of the lot.
Hutch sat back and rolled the window down, letting the cool night air blow on his face and play with his hair. Life was all of a sudden turning out well for one, Ken Hutchinson. Then Starsky interrupted his thoughts.
"Hutch, I have just one question for you," Starsky asked.
"Sure, buddy, what is it?"
"What's snipe hunting?"
fin
For more on the Californian Grunion: http://www.dfg.ca.gov/mrd/grnindx3.html
Send feedback to Jennifer C.
| This page has been viewed | times since 2008-07-25. |