Don't Pester The Ski Patrol • L.S.

6

My bedside clock reads "10:05 P.M." when I get a call from an unknown number.

It catches me doing what I'm always doing, which is lying on my bed in silence and being angry about my life. I hate to be interrupted while doing such a crucial activity, and I know it'll take me forever to catch up after the phone call, but I decide to take it anyway.

"Yellow?" I answer. I truly crack myself up.

"That's how you answer the phone? You're an A-list celebrity. I was expecting at least a good intro."

It's Harry.

Okay, everyone stay calm. Nobody freak out. Nobody. Spider on the wall, you stay calm, okay? It's crucial that we all remain normal. Muffin basket that Johannah sent me, stay calm. The books on skiing on the shelf before me, stay calm. Sheets that smell like an old person, stay calm. My three suitcases filled with designer trash and douchey shoes, stay calm. The splint on my wrist, stay calm. EVERYBODY NEEDS TO STAY FUCKING CALM RIGHT NOW.

"It's about time you called the Louis hotline."

The Louis hotline. The Louis hotline. I've spent nearly the last decade of my life talking my way into places and out of issues and this is what I say to a boy I potentially like.

I decide to continue talking to spare myself the roast Harry will definitely give me on that line. "How are you feeling? Where's Prairie?"

"She's sound asleep. I, uh, need to thank you for this morning."

"Harry, you don't have to -"

"Please, let me say this." He interrupts me. I tell him to go ahead. He takes a big breath. I reposition myself amongst the pillows.

"I've been doing this for the past three years of my life with little to no support from anyone. The most help I get is when Liam picks her up from daycare and will watch her for an hour, and he definitely doesn't do that quietly. I really don't know what I'm doing, and yeah, I know all parents say that they don't know what they're doing, but I really do not know what I'm doing. I hadn't so much as babysat in my life before and all of a sudden I'm a dad and -" He stops to take a breath. "You stepped up for me this morning without me even having to ask. I didn't even say anything to you as I walked out the door."

"H, I didn't do anything. You calmed her down. I stood there."

I can hear a quiet clink in the background of the line. Perhaps he's drinking tea. Hot chocolate, maybe. "Louis, you don't get it. You were not only patient with her, but you were patient with me when I was freaking out. And you were so mindful of everything I told you about her. I heard you ask if it was okay that you put on her socks, which made me really happy because people don't ever think to ask for her consent. And, you, you put on her boots and coat and you gave her that dog and... it sounds like nothing to you, Louis, but no one is ever like that with her. With us, really. And when you said the thing about the shorts, that's how I knew you really cared. That you weren't just helping to repay some sort of debt to me from saving you from the avalanche."

My immediate instinct is to once again tell him I did nothing and it was all his doing, but I can tell that it's important to him that I accept his thanks. He does have a different perspective on the situation than I do, after all.

"Of course I care. I saw you were struggling and I wanted nothing more than to help." I say to him. "Can I say something?"

His breath hitches in his throat. "Yes."

"You need to give yourself more credit. I'm serious. Your patience with her is absolutely remarkable. Today, you saw her throwing a fit, and you were on the verge of an episode yourself, and you still sat there and calmed her down and tried to understand. You didn't get mad, despite how stressed you were to get her out the door. You treat her as a human being with bonafide conditions and not like an annoying little kid. You are eons ahead of parents who have been preparing their whole lives to have children. You may not know what you're doing, but you're doing a great job."

I hear him exhale loudly, as if in relief. Then I hear a bit of rummaging around. Finally he says, "Not right now, but soon, you'll know exactly how badly I needed to hear that."

I don't know what that means.

In the wake of my silence, he changes the subject. "So, I don't exactly remember when I subscribed to Daisy Leach magazine..."

Oh God. I left the magazine on his coffee table. How embarrassing. I'm mortified.

"I'm mortified."

"Why? It's a great cover. Are you holding a surfboard here?" He asks, and I imagine he's looking at the magazine. "Surf Rock with Louis Tomlinson, The Reality Star and New Age Influencer. Louis, I had no idea you were so interested in surf rock. I'll be sure to play some next time you visit."

"I swear I'm not that self-aggrandising to have purposely left that there. Johannah overnighted that to me because she wanted me to post a picture of it. I swear."

"Well then you should probably come pick it up ASAP. Tomorrow at three P.M. sharp. Prairie's got a doctor's appointment so she's not going to daycare and we'll be home around that time."

"I don't need to pick it up tomorrow if -"

"No no, you should definitely pick this up tomorrow. I'd hate for you to go another day without promoting it. Three P.M. sharp. It's what Mrs. Deakin would want. I insist."

He insists. He wants to see me. He wants to see me.

"Well, I can't say no to that, can I?"

"No. You can't. Be on time, will you? Prairie hates tardiness." And then he hangs up.

Listen, I don't condone the usage of cocaine whatsoever, nor do I want to glamourise it. But, as someone who's regrettably done quite a lot of it in my time, I can tell you exactly what it feels like. At the height of it, you're buzzing with excitement and everything's a good idea and nothing is bad and your future is bright and everyone around you is the greatest person alive. You'll get hyped about anything, whether it be a song that just came on, or you successfully did something really stupid. The more coke you do, the more you can stay up. It's really easy to be awake for days if you do just the right amount of coke. You're too elated to sleep, really; trying to avoid that moment you feel that comedown.

And, I haven't done cocaine in months, but I still can't sleep just the same.