June 11th- Miles to Go by exbex

The painting has sat, unfinished, for months.

It looks empty. Hutch keeps telling himself that that’s kind of the point of the winter landscape with a field of snow and a grove of trees in the background. He had had an English teacher in high school, Mr. Smith, who had worn blazers with elbow patches and required students to memorize poems. Years later, Hutch still remembers his favorite: Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.“

The woods are lovely, dark and deep

It’s the line that Hutch has been trying to capture for months. Some interpret it as a longing for death, but Hutch has always seen it as an appreciation, an acknowledgment of something beautiful, however unknown its depths may be.

He gazes intently at the canvas, at the dark background and the evergreens trimmed with snow. It looks empty. He taps a finger on an unopened jar of paint; he’ll paint some stars perhaps, or the aurora borealis.

The darkest night of the year

He puts the jar down. It feels like he’s straying away from the poem, to contemplate including so much light and color.

Hutch runs a hand over the back of his neck, feels the way his hair is sticking and curling. It’s the summer solstice, and the temperatures are climbing, hinting that the next three months will surely be scorching.

His mouth feels suddenly dry and it’s only partly due to the heat.

There’s a certain irony, Hutch thinks, to attributing darkness to death. When he closes his eyes and thinks about death, it’s always fully illuminated, red blood streaming into the street while the sun refuses to stop shining.

The phone’s ring jars him out of his thoughts. There’s a slight trembling in his hands as he picks up the receiver.

“Hutch. It’s the solstice. Ya know what that means.”

“It means that the sun’s not setting for hours, Starsk.”

“It means beer and barbecue.”

The trembling in his hands has stopped. He smiles. “It’s ten in the morning, Starsk,” he chides. I’ll be over within the hour, he thinks.

“Daylight’s a wastin’ Hutch,” and there’s a smirk in Starsky’s voice, the kind that’s always like a flash of color among shades of grey.

“Alright buddy, give me your list. I’ll pick everything up and be over soon.”

When Hutch has finished writing the list, his fingers are stained with blue ink. He doesn’t scrub it off.

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13 Responses to June 11th- Miles to Go by exbex

  1. ksstarfire says:

    Dawn, so beautiful, sweet, THEM, sexy, loving, funny… and all the other adjectives I can’t think of right now! Great slice of their lives! Sighs.
    “Hutch was hunched over a pad of paper, sketching while staring intently at the objects clustered around the lamp: two empty beer steins, a bowl of peanuts, shells scattered halfway across the table like Hansel and Gretel had left a trail through the detritus, and a couple of crumbled dollar bills.” Such a visual, so easy to picture in my mind.
    Thank you for this wonderous gift!

    • Dawn Rice says:

      Well, thanks–Somehow this comment showed up on exbex’s lovely story about paining. I am so happy that you could see that so clearly, it was in my head and had to come out.

  2. becky- bay city girl says:

    nicely done. I enjoyed it very much

  3. marianrose says:

    Magnificent writing that expresses so much! It’s one that I’ll always remember on the summer solstice. Truly a beautiful, moving and uplifting story.

  4. pat says:

    “there’s a smirk in Starsky’s voice, the kind that’s always like a flash of color among shades of grey.” What a lovely turn of phrase, exbex. I liked Hutch’s dark contemplation overridden by Starsky’s light and enthusiasm. Very NICE! Thanks for this Solstice gift!

  5. Spencer says:

    Lovely writing. Hutch caught in his moodiness – Starsky drawing him out. “a flash of color among shades of grey” July 4 has always been my favorite holiday. Summer solstice is giving it a run for its money.

  6. Kat says:

    I like how you have Hutch contemplating different emotions or ideas in color. Nice work.

  7. Dawn Rice says:

    Painting winter in the summer–Ah, Hutch. Starsky will jolly him out of that mood.

  8. MaryEllen Long says:

    Amazing. So real. So them. Thank you.

  9. Jenny Conti says:

    “the kind that’s always like a flash of color among shades of grey.” Every one of your stories has these wonderful gems!

  10. Mortmere says:

    Beautiful – I love it when Hutch’s painting hobby is explored in fic. (And for someone who inevitably ends up reading winter fics around midsummer, this scene makes perfect sense. Though I admit I mostly feel the need to read Xmas fluff. 🙂

  11. Elaine says:

    Frost’s poem is one of the few I know by heart…so much contemplation. I love Hutch’s thought process as he almost strays from his intent. Thank you!

  12. ly888ly888 says:

    Exbex – Such a perfect “mood” piece, so very Hutch. You can feel how drawn he is to the work he’s committed to do, to a point where he has trouble pulling away, until Starsky brings him from winter’s mood to summer’s solstice. Just lovely.

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