Changing Seasons

Five

 "Daaaaaad," Rocco called, pulling the covers off his father's face, "Wake up."

Squinting his eyes, Krist looked at the alarm clock- 5:17. "C'mon bro, we don't even have to get up for 45 minutes." Rocco climbed on the bed, diving onto Krist's stomach roughly. For being only 35 pounds, he landed on him like a ton of bricks. Krist groaned.

"I'm awake now. I even had breakfast."

Krist was wide awake now, dreading the mess that awaited him. "You had breakfast?"

Rocco nodded enthusiastically, "I got cereal."

Krist threw the covers off himself and shuffled into the kitchen. The mess was better than he'd expected. Most of the milk and cereal had made it into the bowl. "Hey, good job, buddy!" he told him as he wiped up the spilled milk and Cheerios.

Rocco beamed, "Can I have chocolate milk?"

"You know you aren't supposed to have chocolate milk for breakfast," Krist said firmly, "I suppose today you can today." He poured his son a small cup of milk before turning on Blippi. "I'm going to shower. You can watch your shows, OK?"

The little boy nodded, sitting on the floor in front of the TV eagerly.

This was how most of their mornings went-Rocco waking up well before the alarm went off. Usually, Rocco would ask for food (or get it himself), and then he would insist Krist wake up. Krist would let Rocco watch some TV while he got himself ready for the day; they'd brush their teeth together, and then Rocco would get dressed. There were mornings when Krist wasn't feeling it, but deep down, he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Some days, he was still surprised this was his life now; when he was younger, he never would have imagined himself as a boring single dad.

Before Rocco came along, all he'd cared about was recklessly living day to day. Did he miss it? Occasionally. He missed being carefree but not the mess that came with it.

He remembered how angry he'd felt when Karla had dumped Rocco, not just at her for being a shit "mother" but for the loss of freedom that came with this newfound responsibility. He was such a selfish piece of shit back then. That was nearly three years ago, and it still gnawed at him that he cared more about his needs than his son's. How had he ever thought partying it up was worth causing the emotional mess of not having even one reliable parent in Rocco's life. Krist thought about that daily; he knew he was doing his best and that Rocco was happy, but that guilt was something.

"Dad, I gotta go pee!" Rocco shouted from outside the door, shaking Krist from his thoughts. He opened the door, letting the little boy in. "You take forever and ever!"

"Sorry, bud," Krist told him, leaving the bathroom and closing the door partially behind him.

It was crazy to think that Rocco was Karla's fourth child. When he first met her, she'd already had two kids with Fabian. Somewhere between then and when he'd run into her, she'd had a third child whose father was unknown. She was 28 with four children and had custody of not a single one of them. The older two lived with Fabian, her third, a girl named Lissette, lived with Marisol, and Rocco with Krist. Although Rocco was close with Lissette and saw her a few times a month, he rarely saw his older siblings. They lived in Nebraska and rarely visited. Krist was doubtful that Rocco even understood they were his brother and sister. Karla has zero maternal instinct. Why didn't she get her tubes tied? Krist, not her family, could understand why she continued having children.

"Hey, Dad, we forgot to brush our teeth!" Rocco came marching into the living room with a hilariously stern look.

Krist chuckled, "You're right, we did."