Chance Meeting

by Linda B

 

 

 

Huggy nodded and slowly opened the taxi door. 

 

Starsky jumped out of the car and hurried around to the other side.  He helped his passenger out and started to walk him to the door. 

 

“I’m okay.  I can make it from here.”

 

“You sure?” Starsky asked hesitantly.  It seemed to him the man had been moving slower and more painfully with each step.

 

“Yeah.”  Huggy took a couple steps forward and turned and extended his hand.  “Thanks again, man.”

 

Starsky shook his hand then turned toward the taxi.

 

“Hey,” Huggy called.  “I owe ya for the taxi ride.”

 

Starsky waved his hand and continued walking.  “Forget it.”

 

“Well, at least let me buy ya breakfast sometime this week.  I work at the greasy spoon around the corner.  It’s called ‘Sunnyside Up.’  Original, ain’t it?”

 

Starsky grinned.  “Sure.  I’ll come by on Friday morning when my shift ends.”

 

Huggy nodded and turned to go up the apartment building stairs.  As he reached the top, he heard the taxi start up.  Turning around, he caught a glimpse of the back of the car as it pulled away.  He scowled as he opened the door, wondering if maybe he should have taken the offered assistance, after all.

 

cc  dd

 

Three mornings later, Dave Starsky pulled up in front of the Sunnyside Up restaurant and hesitated.  He’d told this Huggy Bear that he’d come, but did he really have any obligation to show up?  After all, he’d already done his part by saving the man.  Yet something seemed to be drawing him there.  He’d thought about the incident all week, and now he rationalized he was sitting in front of the restaurant because he wanted to make sure Huggy Bear was doing okay.  After all, he still wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t erred in not taking him to the hospital. 

 

Or maybe it was the sixth sense he seemed to have developed in Vietnam.  There, you had to make instantaneous decisions about people and learn to trust your instincts.  There was something quiet and resourceful about the stranger.  He liked the man, and these days he didn’t find too many men he liked.

Starsky had become a loner, and, since he was a bettin’ man, he’d lay odds that Huggy was a loner, too.  And for that exact reason he was drawn to him.  Oh, Huggy might have a lot of friends, but, for some reason, Starsky felt instinctively that what Huggy knew, he kept to himself.  He was a man to be trusted.

 

Starsky pulled open the door to the restaurant and glanced around.  It definitely was a greasy spoon.  There were ten tables, but only two men occupied seats at this early hour.  The two men, silent and tired looking, clutched their coffee cups, hands shaking as they took a sip. 

 

He moved to a table near the wall and took a seat next to the window.  So far, he hadn’t laid eyes on a waitress. 

 

The doors to the kitchen suddenly swung open and Huggy came through them.  He spotted Starsky immediately and hurried over.  “I wondered if you’d make it.”

 

“Said I’d be here.  How ya doin’?”

 

“Better.  Good thing my uncle gave me some painkillers, or I wouldn’t be standing here right now.  What can I get ya?  Coffee?”

 

Starsky nodded.  “That’s all.”

 

“No way, man.”  Huggy shook his head.  “Said I owed ya breakfast.  So what will it be?”  He reached for the menu stuck between the salt and pepper shakers and handed it to Starsky.  “Look this over and I’ll get ya that coffee.  Sugar?  Cream?”

 

Starsky nodded.  “Lots of sugar.”

 

Huggy returned carrying a tray loaded with a cup of coffee, the sugar, and the cream.  He set it down carefully on the table.  “So, you decide yet?”

 

Starsky scanned the menu, deciding he really was hungry.  “How about a burger?”

 

“At this time of the morning?”  Huggy looked at him uncertainly.  “Don’t you want breakfast?”

 

Starsky shook his head.  “Uh-uh, I’m coming off work.  Dinner is breakfast for me.”

 

“Makes for lousy eating habits, don’t it?  One burger coming up.”

 

Huggy disappeared behind the counter and into the kitchen.  Starsky sipped the hot coffee, enjoying the pleasure of its warmth flowing through him.  It had been an unusually cool evening and the coffee hit the spot.  He stared out the window, watching the old, neglected neighborhood come to life.

 

A few minutes, later Huggy Bear approached his table, awkwardly carrying a tray with a burger and fries to his table.  Starsky reached up to take it from him, unsure how the man was balancing it with his arm in a sling. 

 

“Hey, thanks, man.  See, ya saved me once again.”

 

Starsky leaned back in his chair and cracked a smile.  “Actually, I wanted to eat it, not wear it.”

 

Huggy sank down in the chair across from him.  “Can’t blame ya for that.”

 

“This place is pretty empty.  Is it always like this?” 

 

Huggy looked around.  “This time of the morning, yeah.  It picks up, if you wanna call it that, about eight o’clock.”

 

“You own this place?”

 

Huggy shook his head.  “Uh-uh, I’m just chief cook, waiter and bottle washer.  Hope to own my own place someday.”

 

Starsky chewed on his burger appreciatively.  “Well, you make a great burger, if you want to put that on a resume.”

 

“Thanks.”  Huggy studied the brunet sitting across from him.  “I seem to be saying that to you a lot lately.”

 

“No need for it.”

 

“Maybe, maybe not.”  Huggy stood up.  “I guess I better check on my other customers.  Don’t want to make the regulars angry.”

 

Starsky laughed and then dug into his food, eating eagerly.  His Aunt Rosie was a good cook, but he hadn’t had a burger as good as this in a long time.

 

When he finished, he pushed the plate away and relaxed. 

 

“Want some dessert?”

 

Starsky shook his head.  “No, thanks.  That was plenty.”  He tried to stifle the yawn threatening to escape, but was unsuccessful.

 

“Long night?” Huggy asked, collecting the empty plate and silverware.

 

“They’re always long, but it takes a little while to unwind enough so I can sleep.”

 

Huggy nodded his head in understanding.  “Know what ya mean.”

 

“So, how are the ribs?  Shouldn’t you be at home resting instead of working?”

 

“I don’t work.  I don’t pay no bills.  And I don’t need no bill collectors after me along with Willy.”

 

Starsky looked up, concern evident on his face.  “Willy been back?”

 

“Nope.  Haven’t seen him and hope it stays that way.”

 

“I guess I better get going before I fall asleep on your table.”

 

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Huggy said, nodding his head toward the two men, both now with their heads lying on the table. 

 

Shaking his head, Starsky stood to leave.  “Thanks again for breakfast.”

 

“Any time.”

 

Starsky hesitated a moment then put out his hand.  The two men shook, saying “thanks” at the same time.  Chuckling, Starsky patted Huggy on the shoulder.  “See ya.  Take care of yourself.”

 

“’Kay.”

 

Starsky left the restaurant knowing he’d be back.

 

cc  dd

 

 

 

And come back he did.  He stopped several mornings a week for coffee and breakfast.  He had to admit the food was good, and he enjoyed the company when Huggy could break away for a little conversation.  He enjoyed Huggy’s colorful descriptions, but more importantly, he soaked in any information Huggy passed on about the streets.  Huggy knew the neighborhood and understood the people who lived there.  On more than one occasion, he introduced Starsky to the characters who lived and worked the surrounding streets.  But, most importantly, he taught Starsky which were the people to avoid—and those worth knowing.

 

One morning as Starsky was paying his check, Huggy handed him his change and then reached under the counter.  “I was readin’ the paper yesterday and came across somethin’ you might be interested in.  So, I saved this section for you.”

 

“Yeah, what’s that?” Starsky asked, stirring the sugar he’d added to the coffee he’d ordered to go.

 

“The want ads.”

 

“Want ads?  Why?  I already got a job.”  

 

“Can’t see ya being a taxi cab driver forever.  You got too much smarts for that.”

 

Starsky shrugged.  “It pays the bills.”

 

“So does this, but I ain’t plannin’ on bein’ here forever.  Believe me, it ain’t you, man.”

 

Starsky folded and tucked the paper under his arm and reached for his coffee.  “I’ve gotta go.  Told my aunt I’d take her to her doctor’s appointment.  Don’t know why she always has to have the first one of the day.  See ya.”

 

Huggy nodded.  “Tomorrow?”

 

“Sure, tomorrow.”

 

Starsky sank into the driver’s seat and carefully balanced the styrofoam coffee cup on the seat next to him between some books sitting there.  He started to put the newspaper down, but thought better of it.  He didn’t want the coffee spilling on it.  As he threw the paper onto the back seat, it flipped open and he glanced at it.  Huggy had circled an ad in red.  Starsky read it and then glanced back at the Sunnyside Up window.  Huggy was clearing his usual table in the corner and waved when he looked out the window and saw Starsky looking at him.

 

 

Starsky reread the ad:       

 

Recruits Wanted

Bay City Police

Call 555-2379

 

It had been quite awhile since he’d thought about becoming a policeman.  Life—Vietnam—had interfered.  But as he sat there looking at the ad, he couldn’t help but feel that something, or someone, was leading him toward a dream long forgotten.

 

When he was growing up, John Blaine, his neighbor and a cop, had taught him to fight.  Blaine had suggested on several occasions that he should consider being a cop.  Told him he had the “right moves” and the “instincts.”  Blaine had even brought him to the precinct to show him around.

 

And as a boy, he’d been determined to be a policeman.  A policeman just like his dad.  Then, his father had been killed in the line of duty.  Now, even as an adult, he still carried the anger and resentment with him, but he also was aware of how much his father loved the job and how devoted he had been to it.  He remembered seeing the pride in his father’s eyes every time he’d put on the uniform and strap on his gun.  “People need our help, son,” his father would say, “and I’m proud to serve ’em.”

 

Vietnam had taught him not only to rely on himself, but how to protect himself.  And he had felt the pride of serving his country.  He felt a confidence now that he’d never felt before.  The incident in the alley had proven that.  And over the past few weeks, he’d come to understand the satisfaction and sense of pride his father described, even after long, tough days on the job. 

 

Maybe there was a direction in his life, and he’d been guided there all along.  He just hadn’t realized it.  No, he hadn’t seriously considered becoming a policeman for a while.  The killing and pain he’d seen in ’Nam made him want to shy away from violence, not seek it out.

 

But as he pulled away from the curb, the idea suddenly had new possibilities.

 

2002