Don't Pester The Ski Patrol • L.S.

13

Harry's avoiding me.

And okay, yeah, maybe I deserve this. I've led on and screwed over dozens of people in my life, so it makes sense that the one time I was excited about something, it fell through. It's karmic retribution in the most textbook of terms - I shouldn't expect good if I don't do good.

But I'm trying. I want to do good.

Either way, if there's one thing about me that's never going to change, it's that I do not shy away from conflict. He's not going to get away with just acting like we didn't have our night together, and I'm going to tell him exactly how I feel. I'm going to tell him that if he couldn't handle being with someone like me, he could have at least told me before he made me like him and before he introduced me to his daughter; or at least before he gave me the most passionate sex of my life and looked at me as I were his entire world. And I'm going to scream if I have to. I don't care if Prairie's there either.

Okay, that's a lie. I won't yell if Prairie is there. But my voice will raise slightly!

What I'm trying to say is that I refuse to let him off easily. If he doesn't want anything to do with me because of my reputation, that's fine. I just want him to tell me to my face. And then when he does, well, I don't know what I'll do. Maybe I'll just go back home and succumb to my old ways. I know this is pathetic, since it's only been a few weeks and it's not like this is a breakup, but I let myself be more vulnerable than I ever thought I was capable of and it blew up in my face. I'm allowed to mourn at least for a little bit.

It's a Thursday afternoon when I buck up the courage to make the walk to Harry's lodge. He said he was off Thursdays, so I expect him to be home and not off doing whatever it is the ski patrol does. I may or may not have put on my nicest winter gear, too - we're talking pointelle cashmere and corduroy pants. This is my rich boy vengeance.

I approach his lodge and see Prairie standing in the window, waving at me excitedly. I wave back with the same energy, but it's breaking my heart. It kills me that ending things with Harry means I'll never get to hang out with her again. I definitely grew attached, though I know I shouldn't have. Just add it to the list of things I've fucked up in the past year.

But then, I realise - Harry's car is not outside.

It can't be.

I rush to the front door of the lodge, but the door is locked for once. Prairie watches me intently through the glass as I feel around the ledge of the door to find a spare key hidden on the top - not very safe, but I'm grateful for it right now. I push the door open and little feet run up to me and little arms wrap around my leg.

"Hi Louis!" She squeals.

"Hi pretty-Prairie-puppy," I say, trying not to sound concerned. "Where's mommy?"

"Umm, dunno!" She says, shrugging her small shoulders slightly as she lets go of my leg. She touches the corduroy of my pants again and then shudders, "Icky."

I have no choice but to ignore that, considering I've just encountered a three-year-old alone in a cabin, with her father nowhere in sight. She runs away from me, probably to find something more worth her time. I note that she's wearing something more like pajamas and less like something Harry would put her in if she's leaving the house. I'm so confused. Where the fuck is he?

I don't wonder this for long, as after about five minutes since my arrival, Harry materialises in the doorway, holding two grocery bags which he then lets drop to the floor. He looks at me and his face turns as white as a sheet.

"Mommy!" Prairie squeals, running to Harry and grabbing his leg. This is usually where he would pick her up and greet her, but he continues to stand there.

"Hi baby," he says stoically, still looking at my disapproval. "I thought you were asleep."

"Bedtime story," she explains simply.

He puts a hand to his forehead as if he were about to faint. "Oh, of course. A bedtime story. How did I forget that? Of course you wanted a bedtime story."

"Harry?" I finally say, communicating that I want an explanation.

"I... I..." He gulps, disregarding Prairie as he steps into the lodge and out of the threshold. "I ran to the store for fifteen minutes, I... I thought she was asleep - because I - we were out of things and I - she hates sitting in the cart, Louis - she hates the car seat, but detests the grocery cart - and I - she loves peaches, and - I - I, oh God -"

I interrupt him when it's clear he's spiralling. "Harry, calm down. You're going to give yourself a panic attack."

"What have I done?" He starts to cry, stepping over the groceries he spilled on the ground, and tumbling to the couch and leaning on it to avoid falling. "Oh God, what did I do?"

"Mommy?" Prairie says curiously, cocking her head.

"Okay Pear, why don't I take you downstairs and read you a bedtime story for your nap, okay?" I tell her, lifting her up in my arms and careful to hold her high enough where she doesn't touch my pants.

"Okay!" She agrees, chipper, though still feigning concern for her distraught parent.

"Harry, you are going to wait right here while I do that, right? Is it okay if I go do that?" I ask him, deliberately calm and hitting every consonant. His face is in the pillow now, but he nods.

I don't think too hard as I take Prairie down the stairs and into the bedroom. She puts herself into bed, and then hands me a book on the side called The Cute Little Witch. Despite my anxiety for what Harry may be doing upstairs, I take my time reading to her, trying to be a good story teller with different voices and whatnot. Much to my dismay, she doesn't fall asleep the first read and I have to go through the book again. Thankfully, she falls asleep halfway through the second time. I sit next to her bed for a few more moments to make sure she's truly asleep, and then I turn off the light and close the bedroom door on my way out.

Harry is still facedown on the couch, so I do not approach him right away. Instead, I make the silent and meaningful choice to pick up the groceries he had dropped and put them in the kitchen. I take out things that should be refrigerated and put them away to the best of my ability - though, to be honest, I'm not very good at knowing what should and shouldn't go where considering I've never put away groceries before. Once I think I do a good job, I go back to Harry on the couch.

"Harry," I say, trying not to scold while also trying not to let him off easy. "Can you sit up for me?"

It takes him a few moments, but he does sit up on the couch, face red and littered with marks from the cushions. I don't intend on sitting next to him, but he takes me by surprise when he reaches for my hand and pulls me down on the couch. I let him throw me around like this.

I don't get the chance to talk to him, because once I'm sat on the couch, he falls over and puts his head on my lap with his face facing my stomach. He wraps his arms around my torso to the best of his ability and then curls in on himself. I sigh, not wanting to comfort him, but also wanting to so badly. I run tender fingers through his hair as he weeps quietly, and then eventually, falls asleep.