You’re the Man

Jake woke up when sunlight hit his face through the window. The ski house that his dad had rented for the week was quiet and a little chilly. Jake wore his Spiderman pajamas and was wrapped in his big soft Phillies blanket, so he was warm, but he could tell that the rental house was cold.

"Dad," he yelled. "It's cold."

His dad didn't answer.

"Dad!" he yelled again. Still no answer.

Jake got out of bed, picked up his pillow, walked out the bedroom door, and threw the pillow downstairs, over the railing. He went into the bathroom, used the toilet, then ran his toothbrush under the faucet so it would look like he had brushed his teeth. He looked at himself in the mirror, grinned, then made a fierce scowl, ready to beat up the face in the mirror. He smiled and laughed a little.

"Dad, I'm hungry," he said, as he walked down the stairs. The fire was out, and it was particularly cold in front of the fire. He stopped in the small living room, picked up the TV remote, turned on the TV, and walked into the kitchen.

"Dad?"

The kitchen was empty. The solid wooden door was open, with only the glass storm door closed. He could see a lot of snow through the glass. He stood at the door and looked out over the snow, towards the ski mountain. Far below, he could see pieces of the ski trails that he'd snowboarded on the day before. He smiled again and bounced his back and forth, left to right and back again.

"Dad, get up, get up, you lazy head!" he yelled, as he walked through the living room, heading upstairs. He stopped in front of the TV and watched for a minute or two, then continued up the stairs to the master bedroom. His mom would be there that night, but not yet. He passed the other bedroom, where his sister would sleep. For the first two days of the ski week, it was only Jake and his dad, Dave.

Jake ran into his dad's bedroom, yelled "Think Fast!", prepared to jump, but suddenly stopped at the edge of the neatly-made bed. He hadn't expected his dad to be up already. He certainly hadn't expected his dad to make the bed. After pausing, he leaped onto the bed anyway, but was not satisfied and immediately climbed off.

"Dad, I'm hungry. Let's go get pancakes!" he called again.

He started walking through the house, checking closets, looking under beds, and particularly looking behind his dad's bathrobe hanging on the bathroom door and under his dad's coat downstairs. Those were often his dad's favorite hiding places. But Jake couldn't find Dave.

Finally, Jake walked back to the door and looked outside again. He opened the door and thought about walking out on the porch, but his feet were bare and he was still in his Spidey pajamas. He went back upstairs, grabbed his big fleece blanket, wrapped it around his body, and went back to the porch door. He opened it and walked outside.

"Dad?" he asked quietly. A white wooden chair sat on the wide porch, facing down the mountain. Jake climbed over the chair's first arm, then over the second arm, and continued on to the porch corner.  There was plenty of room in front of the chair, but no parents were around to tell him what to do. He was pretty sure he hadn't tried climbing over the chair the day before, so he probably hadn't been told not to do it yet.

He walked to the porch corner and turned. A second set of stairs led off the porch down into the snow. Logs were stacked on top of the snow, with a dark brown tarp covering about half the pile. In front of the logs, on the ground, lay Jake's dad, in a black sweatshirt.

"Dad, why are you there?" asked Jake.

His dad didn't answer. Jake started down the steps, but there was snow, and his feet were getting really cold. He went back inside, upstairs to his room, picked up yesterday's socks, put them on, and then stuffed his feet in his untied sneakers. He shifted the blanket around his shoulders and went back outside, walking down the back steps over to his father.

"Dad, get up, it's morning," he said.

When he reached his father, he saw that Dave was lying kind of crooked, with his leg bent strangely underneath him. He shook his father, and Dave's eyes opened a bit.

"Jakers," Dave said weakly. "I'm up. It's okay." He closed his eyes again.

"No, you're not, Dad," said Jake. "You're lying down in the snow."

He shook his dad again.

"Oh," said Dave, opening his eyes and looking around. "You're right. Hey, give me a hand with the wood. I came out to get some logs." He looked around again. "It's pretty bright out, Jake. Did you turn the lights on?"

"I don't think so," said Jake. He looked up at the sky. "It looks like regular sun to me."

Dave tried to lift himself up on one arm, but then his whole body shook and he fell back. "Hey Jakers, can you get me a blanket? I'm pretty cold."

"Okay," said Jake happily, and trotted up the stairs, into the house, and into the living room. He looked for a throw like the ones in his house at home, but couldn't find one. He went upstairs to his bedroom, then looked at his Phillies fleece wrapping his arms. He thought for a moment, shook his head, dropped the fleece, and walked down the hall to his dad's bedroom. A large white bedspread was neatly on the bed. Jake pulled on it, then pulled some more, until it came off the bed and onto the floor. He walked downstairs pulling it behind him, back to the door, and out to the porch. The door closed on the bedspread, stopping Jake in his tracks. He went back to the door, opened it, and stood there pulling the bedspread repeatedly until it was entirely outside. He let the door close and dragged the bedspread down the steps, across the snow, and to his father. Dave was asleep again.

Jake put the blanket on top of his dad, then shook him again. "Hey Dad, why are you sleeping out here?" he asked.

Dave clutched the bedspread and said, "Thanks, Jake." After a moment, he continued. "I think we have a problem, little guy. Looks like I fell and can't get up.” He tried to grin, but it was a ghastly, ghostly grin.

"I'll lift you," said Jake, bending his six-year old body down to his dad's shoulder and grabbing Dave’s arm. Jake pulled, but nothing happened.

"That isn't going to work, Jake," said Dave. "Can you go get Mom?"

"Okay," said Jake brightly, as he turned around to face the house. Then he stopped. "Where is Mom?"

Jake’s dad was shaking violently. "I'm think I'm really in trouble here, Jake. We need help. Call her.”

Jake walked to the front porch steps and hollered, "Mom! Mom!" When that didn't work, he looked back at his dad, then tried yelling, "Mom! Dad's hurt!"

He came back to his dad, who was smiling a little. "I don't think she can hear, Dad. She's not here yet, is she?"

"No, guy, she's not. She won't be here until tonight."

“Oh. That’s right.”

There was a silence.

"That's a long time from now," said Jake.

"Yeah. Probably too long," said his  dad. "Can you go inside and look around the house for a phone?"

"Okay, Dad," said Jake. He went back inside and found his dad's cell phone on the kitchen counter. He picked it up, pressed the Phone picture, then tapped on Nancy. Nothing happened. He looked at it again. Jake was very good with phones, TV remotes, and his iPad. He looked closely at the phone. No Service, it said. He'd never seen that before.

He started back outside to his father, but saw his dad's coat on the chair. He stopped, looked at the coat, then picked it up and looked around the living room for his own smaller coat. He picked up that coat, too, then took both coats and the phone out to his father. Dave was awake this time, but not sitting up.

"The phone's not working," said Jake, as he handed the phone to his father and lay both coats on top of him.

Dave looked blankly at the phone for a moment, then tapped the screen a couple of times. "Nuts," he said. He looked up at Jake. "This isn't good, Jake. I think I fell last night. I can't seem to walk. I'm really, really cold. We need to get some help."

"Okay," said Jake. "Do you want breakfast?"

"No, Jake. Thanks anyway. I mean, yes, maybe I want breakfast, but first we need to get some help. I'm pretty cold and I think I'm pretty hurt. Maybe I broke my leg."

"Can you walk?"

"No, Jakers, sorry, I can't."

“What should I do?" asked Jake.

"Call Mom, or the police. 911. Find the phone inside.”

"It's in your hand, Dad," said Jake.

"No, I mean the other kind of phone. A house phone. Maybe attached to the wall, or sitting on a table? I don't know if there is one, but you can look. We need a way to call for help.”

Jake started up the porch stairs. His dad called after him, "And thanks for the coats, Jake. Come back soon either way. I shouldn't go to sleep again. You need to keep me awake. Okay?"

Jake nodded, then went into the house and looked around. He had no idea what a phone attached to the wall would look like, so he didn't try very hard. He watched the TV for a couple of minutes, then looked on all the tables he could find, in the living room and the bedrooms. Finally, on his way back outside, he stopped at his iPad and tapped the Mail icon. He created a message to his mother.

"Hi Mom. Dad fell. It’s cold. He said call you. The phone won’t work. I'm hungry. Dad says he doesn’t want breakfast. He's heavy and sleepy. Love Jake."

He pressed Send and went outside.

"I couldn't find a phone, Dad," said Jake. "I sent Mom a mail message."

Dave looked surprised at that. "That's a good idea, Jake. Mail might work, with wifi." He looked at his phone. "Signal's pretty weak here. Did you get a signal inside?"

"Sure. I think so. What's a signal?"

"Can you get the Internet on the iPad?"

"Don't know. I'll go see."

Jake turned back towards the house.

"Wait, Jake," said Dave. Jake turned back. "I'm still pretty cold. Can you bring me more blankets? And some water to drink?"

"Sure, Dad."

Jake took the bedspread from both of the smaller bedrooms and filled a glass with water. He also took his dad's sneakers out to him.

"Here are blankets. And your sneakers."

Dave looked down at his right foot, which had a loafer on it. He tried to look over his shoulder at his left foot, but it was bent too far behind him and he couldn't see it. "I think I have shoes on, Jake. But thanks for the blankets." He sipped at the water glass. "We need to find help somehow, Jake. Get the police or an ambulance up here, to see what's wrong with my leg, and get me out of the snow.”

“Okay.” Jake paused. “How do we do that?”

"That's a good question, Jake. I don't know how."

Jake looked all around, then walked halfway around the house before turning back. "There's a lot of snow here, Dad. It'll be good snowboarding."

Dave smiled. "Yes, it will."

Jake stood in front of his father and looked sad. "But you won't be skiing today, will you?"

"No, Jake, I won't."

"So what do we do?"

"Maybe I can crawl up onto the porch," said Dave. He tried to pull himself forward, but stopped after the second pull. "That hurts too much on my leg. I can't drag it."

"Should I lift it for you?" Jake said, walking behind Dave. "Oh, gross."

"No, I don't think so, guy. It wouldn't be good to lift it. Can you check the iPad, see if the mail message went? Then come right back?"

Jake ran inside, ignored the TV, and looked at the iPad. He didn’t know how to answer his dad's question. He took it back outside.

"Here it is," he said.

Dave looked at it, tapped a couple of icons, then looked again. "There's no signal out here, but it seems to say that it was sent. Maybe she got it." He looked back up at Jake. "Take it inside and leave it on the counter, so we can maybe see her reply if she answers. Then come back." He gave a big shake, starting at his face and moving all the way down his body. "Ow ow ow. This sucks."

Jake went inside and put the iPad on the counter. He looked around the kitchen and living room. He saw another coat and got that. He climbed up on the counter and looked in the brown food bag. He found brown sugar cinnamon pop-tarts, took them out, and put two in the microwave. He set it for 30 seconds and waited for the bing. When they were ready, he reached in, then dropped the first one he touched. "Yow, that's hot!" he yelled. "Dragity nab it!" He looked around for paper towels or napkins, but didn't see any. He looked for a dish towel, but didn't see one of those, either. He smiled and ran into the bathroom, pulled off a big run of toilet paper, then used it to wrap the pop-tarts. He took both of them out to his father.

"Here's another coat, Dad. And some hot food to warm you up."

Dave lay on top of one bedspread with two others and one coat on top of him.

"Thanks, Jake," he said weakly.

"This isn't good enough, is it?" asked Jake.

Dave shook his head.

"I'm gonna get dressed," said Jake. He went inside and got dressed in his jeans, T-shirt, snow pants, and snowboard jacket. He put on socks and his snowboard shoes. He went downstairs and looked at his snowboard leaning against the wall, next to the door. He looked at it for almost a minute, then nodded. Just before he picked it up, he suddenly turned around, ran upstairs, and grabbed his fleece blanket. He brought it back down with him. As he passed the TV, he looked at it, saw a cartoon he usually liked, and frowned. He shook his head at it and went outside, picking up the snowboard as he went by.

"One more blanket for you," said Jake.

"Hey, your Phillies fleece! Really?"

"Yeah, I don't need it. You can use it." Jake then looked fiercely at his father. "It's just loaning. You have to give it back."

"Yes, Jake, I promise. I will. You look dressed."

"I'm going for help."

His dad's eyes flew wide open. "What do you mean? You're not going anywhere, little man. Not without me."

"I'm going down the mountain to the ski place. To get help."

"No, Jake. Definitely not. Sorry. We have to drive there; we can't just ski down the hill. It's much too far, and not safe. Mom'll get here soon, or we'll work something out. As long as you keep me warm and stay with me, I'll be okay until then." Dave looked around, then saw the uneaten pop-tarts on the ground. He took a quick bite. "See? You're feeding me. That works."

Jake folded his arms in front of him. His lips pushed forward and he shook his head slowly. "Nope. It’s not enough. You’re wrong. I’m going for help." He turned back towards the house. "But I forgot my hat and gloves."

"No, Jake, no." Dave pushed himself up to a slight lean. "You can't go. You can't leave me, and you can't go alone. I mean it, Jake. N-O. No.”

Jake looked down the mountain. He could see the trails far below. He couldn't see the lodge, but he could see some structures on the trail; probably the lifts, he thought. There were trees between him and the trails, and no clear path to them—but nothing blocked his way. Unless you counted the trees.

"Sorry, Dad. This time I’m the one who decides. You need help. That means me. I'm going." He turned back towards the house and started for the door.

"Jake, damn it, I mean no. I said no, and I mean no. Definitely not." Jake looked back at his dad, who saw the tears streaming down Jake's face. "C'mere, Jake, come on. Just sit with me."

Jake turned away from his dad, shaking his head, and ran inside. He came out a minute later, with hat and gloves on, and his snowboard jacket zipped up. He was carrying his snowboard.

Dave said, as sternly as he could, but still trying to be gentle, "I know what you're thinking, Jake, and I appreciate it, I really do. You can't go alone, though. Just come sit with me for a bit."

Jake wouldn't look at his father and just kept shaking his head. He put his board down on the ground, put his feet on it, and started slowly down the front of the yard. He never looked at Dave.

"Jake, I mean it. This is not okay. Do not do not do not do this. Stop!"

Jake picked up his board at the edge of the road, walked across the road, then put it on the snow and set off. Tears were still flying down his face. He tried to wipe them off with his jacket and realized he didn't have his goggles. But he couldn't go back, he thought. His dad would stop him if he did, and his dad needed help. Plus he didn't think he could start again, if he went back. He wouldn’t be able to leave his dad again. He’d sit there waiting for him to die.

He shook his head hard and wiped his face once more, then continued across the first field, and into the trees.

"Jake, get back here! I’m afraid. I can’t be left alone. Jake, please!" yelled Dave, as Jake left his sight. “God damn it!”

Jake tried not to listen. He had to get far away, quickly.

He had only been snowboarding for the past year. Before that, he'd done some skiing, but when his cousin Abby showed him how to board, he fell in love with it and wanted to go all the time. This was his family's first trip to the Vermont ski mountain. Yesterday had been the longest and best day of snowboarding he'd ever had.

He was stiff at first. At his age, he'd never really been stiff before; cold sometimes, and tired, but not stiff. He could swim for hours, and he could run and play ball, but he'd never felt stiff muscles on his legs like he did now. He tried shifting his weight a little, to ease the pain, but there was really only one way he knew to ride the board, so he just had to push through it. The pain started to lessen anyway, and he started to feel better.

Then, suddenly, there were two trees in front of him and nowhere to turn. He'd been coasting along, facing left and looking forward over his right shoulder, and avoiding the occasional tree. Coming around one tree, he now faced two, and had nowhere to turn. He wiped out on the ground and got snow on his face. "Dragity dragity," he mumbled. “Crap.” He looked around to make sure no one heard him say that.

He got back to his feet. He pulled his hat off, to use that to wipe his face, and couldn't believe how much snow was on top of his hat. It wasn't snowing, so he hadn’t expected any. He looked at his arms, and saw a fair amount of snow on them, too. He realized that snow was falling off the tree branches onto him. "Cool," he grinned, getting back to his feet.

He looked more closely down the slope, and could see patches where there were fewer trees and more clearings, so he slowly continued on towards them.

It took a while to connect with the trails, but Jake had no idea how much time had passed. No skiers were out yet, and the lifts weren’t running, but now he knew where he was and the path was clear. He started down. He thought he would enjoy it, but he didn’t. His dad broken and lying in the snow was all he could think of. He wondered how much time had passed.

He got down to the bottom, again not knowing how much time had passed, but he was pretty sure the run had gone quickly. The first staffer he saw looked at him strangely, but continued arranging the ski lift lines. He found a big sliding glass door. It was locked.

He knocked on it, then banged harder.

“We’re not open yet,” called someone. He looked around, not where the voice had come from.

He banged again.

Someone who looked like a ski guide came to the door.

“What are you doing? We’re not open.”

“I need help,” said Jake.

“We’re not open,” said the guide again.

Jake started crying.

“You don’t understand. I need help. I really need help. I need help now.”

The guide looked at him for a while, then opened the door.

“What is it? Why are you here?”

“It’s my dad.” The guide looked around. “No, he’s not here. He’s up there.” Jake pointed up the run.

“Why is he up there? He’s not allowed on the ski runs this early. The lifts are closed.” The guide paused, then looked at Jake more closely, noticing the wetness on his face and coat, the snow on his coat and legs.

“Did you just come down the mountain? You’re not allowed to do that. How did you get up there?”

Jake was sobbing. He tried hard to get control of his breathing.

“I didn’t go up. My dad is staying at a place, like a cabin, or a condo thing, or something like that, way up above the trail. I came down from there.”

“That’s not allowed.”

“Listen to me!” yelled Jake. “Just listen!”

The guide frowned, but nodded for Jake to continue.

“My dad fell down during the night, in the snow, and broke something. It’s bad. He’s dying. I found him this morning. He wanted me to sit with him, he wouldn’t let me come down here to get help, but if I sat there with him I would just WATCH HIM DIE.”

Jake stopped talking and again got control of his voice.

“I couldn’t let him die, so I boarded down here to get help. You need to help.”

The guide looked hesitant a bit longer, wondering how much of this was true, and if true, how injured Jake’s dad was.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Jake.”

“And your dad’s?”

He’s Dave. David. David Blake.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“She’s supposed to get here tonight, but Dad will be dead by then.”

The guide nodded, his mind made up.

“Where is your dad?”

“I told you,” Jake said, pointing again. “Up there?”

“No, I mean where exactly is he? How do we get to him?”

Jake realized the man was planning to help. He took a big breath. He looked around for his phone, or his iPad, or anything that might have information on it, but he didn’t have any of those things.

“I don’t know the address. We have no phone service inside the ski house. I can talk about where it is, how I got here. We could retrace my steps.”

The guide nodded hesitantly. “I could drive you up the run in the snowcat, but it will be hard to find the house that way.”

“Let’s go,” said Jake, turning.

“Wait,” said the guide. “My name is Russell. Let’s try one other thing first.”

Now Jake looked hesitant.

“Do you know how to reach your mom? We have phone service here.”

“Sort of. I can call her on my dad’s phone, but I don’t have that. I can send her mail, but I don’t know her mail address; it’s on the phone, and my iPad.”

“What’s her name?”

“Nancy Blake.”

“And where does she live?”

“Ambler, Pennsylvania. Meadow Lane, Ambler, Pennsylvania.”

Russell pulled out his own phone and made a call, then several more. He said, “Ambler, Pennsylvania,” on the second call. A security guard came over. Another call was made. The security guard made one as well. Then Russell’s phone rang.

“Hello,” he said. He listened, then replied, “No, I don’t have a warrant.”

Jake looked up, shocked.

Russell continued. “I’m not in law enforcement. I run the rescue team here at Killington, in Vermont. There’s been a bad injury up on the mountain, and I don’t know the address.”

He listened some more.  “His son raced down the mountain to get help. We need her number. We need it right away. Her husband is in bad trouble and we need to find him.” Russell listened some more. “I understand what you’re saying. But we need to find him soon. He’s been out in the snow all night. He can’t move. He needs help.”

More sounds from the phone, then Russell said, “How about this? Can you call her, then connect me in? That way you’re not giving me the number. And you can stay on the line listening.”

Russell nodded his head. He waited.

“What’s happening?” asked Jake. Russell shook his head, held up one finger.

Suddenly his face lit up.

“Mrs. Blake? “I’m here with your son.”

Jake’s face brightened. “Mom!” he yelled.

Russell smiled, then continued talking.

“He says his father is badly hurt, lying in the snow at some place you rented.” He listened again. “He didn’t abandon your husband, he raced down here, in very dangerous conditions, to get help. There’s no phone service up the mountain.”

More noise came through the phone.

“How far away are you?”

Jake could hear his mom’s voice. He was waving his hand, trying to get the phone, trying to get Russell’s attention.

“If what your son says is true”—Russell looked at Jake, then nodded, his mind made up—“Mrs. Blake, that’s too long. Your husband won’t make it. He needs an ambulance now. Where is he? What’s the address?”

Jake’s mom said something that caused Russell to say thanks, and he hung up while Nancy was still talking.

He looked at Jake and smiled. “Got the address, kid. Let’s go. She got your email this morning and is already on the road, but she’s still hours away.” He made two more calls.

“Shoot,” he said to Jake. “I think she wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t have time, and I needed my phone.”

“That’s okay,” said Jake. “We can call her now.”

“We can’t,” said Russell. “I don’t have her number.”

Jake looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s in the cabin. We’ll be there soon, right?”

“I hope so."

They didn’t take the snowcat. A police SUV arrived to pick up Russell and Jake.

“How long?” asked Russell.

“Five, ten minutes,” said the cop driving.

On the drive up, Russell got another call. He turned to Jake.

“The ambulance is there now. We’ll meet them in a couple of minutes. Your dad is going to be okay. You did good, Jake.”

Jake started crying.

“You’re the man, Jake,” said Russell. “High five.” He put up his hand for a high five, but Jake hugged him instead.