Changing Seasons

Seven

That night, he dreamt of dope. He was in a dark, filthy apartment. Rocco was missing, he couldn't find him. There was a feeling of guilt and disgust as he saw himself in the dream putting the glass stem to his pursed lips, flicking the lighter, and rolling the pipe. He could feel the warm vapor enter his mouth, over his tongue, and into his lungs. Tingling, warmth, every hair on his body electrified. Rocco was in front of him, on a stained sofa, sullen face and dirty. "Dad," he said.

Krist woke up, unable to shake the guilt. He checked on Rocco in his room. He was asleep, safe, cozy, wrapped in a Minions comforter. Krist bent down, brushing Rocco's light brown hair off his forehead and watching him sleep, his chest rising and falling.

He hated the dope dreams. They'd set the tone for the entire day, leaving him with a lingering guilt, filth, and shame. Although there wasn't really a day that he didn't feel like he was, to some degree, a piece of shit, that's just how it had always been for him. Since as long as he could remember.

He'd been about Rocco's age, maybe younger. His parents were still together at that time and fought constantly. His father made it clear that having Krist had ruined their relationship. Not his brother, Brad, not his sister, Kali. Krist ruined it.

"Our relationship was fine before we had him! Everything has gone to complete shit since we had him. You act like a fucking bitch all the time!" His father yelled, "Look at this dump, you can't even fucking keep up with it!"

"I can't keep up because you refuse to help me! I can't do it all! I'm the only one taking care of these kids. I work, I go to school!"

"Your school is a waste of fucking time, Linda!"Marcus Samson's face flushed red from beer and anger, "Focus on these damn kids, not some stupid fucking dream that is never going to happen."

A choking sob escaped from Linda's throat, "I hate you!"

Marcus had grabbed the closest object near him, a picture frame, hurling it in Linda's direction. The glass shattered into pieces, and Krist's bare feet. He'd been scared and ran to his mom, stepping on the glass. She had scooped him up into her arms. His feet were bleeding. They were both crying. "Look at what you did!" She shrieked. Krist wept into his mother's blouse.

"Tend to the little crybaby," Marcus spit, "Crybaby just like his mother. Should have listened to me and aborted him like I said. Didn't need no more fucking kids."

Linda had carried Krist into the bedroom with Brad and Kali following behind, "Go play in your room," she told them, setting Krist down to examine his feet.

"Why does daddy hate me?" He had asked as she carefully cleaned and bandaged his cut feet.

"He doesn't hate you, baby," she assured him, "Daddy is just having a bad day."

"Why is he always mean though?" Krist questioned her innocently, "Am I bad?"

Linda held Krist's shoulders, peering into his face, "Honey, you are not bad. Your dad...your dad," she sniffled, "He just doesn't know how to handle his feelings. It's not okay for him to yell or be mean. He had a really bad day today though. You didn't do anything wrong." Krist's chin had quivered, Linda pulled him close, hugging him tightly. "He's just having a really bad day."

The piece of shit was always having a bad.. Krist could never have imagined talking about Rocco the way his dad did him.

His mother had eventually left his father, taking the kids with her after that specific fight. They'd all moved into her parents' home so she could complete nursing school.

Living with them had been fun, the house filled with happiness. He was his grandma's favorite, though she never would directly say it. Brad and Kali had started elementary school at that point, so he got her undivided attention when his mother was in school. They'd watch her TV shows together, cuddled in her armchair with a crocheted blanket. He helped her make dinner, and they sang oldies together. It was a good time.

The family lived with them for quite a while, moving out once his mother graduated and began working as a labor and delivery nurse. Linda had enough money saved for a down payment on a home. Krist had been sad to leave his grandparents but pretended to be happy for his mother's sake.

Marcus saw them infrequently. He called on the holidays or occasional birthdays. He took them camping a few times. It was usually pretty miserable just his dad, his dad's drunk friends, and their "ol' ladies." Someone would get in a fight, and Krist got a kick out of that.

As Krist got older, he stopped being a fucking crybaby and became angry. He got in trouble at school for fighting, which led to heated calls between Linda and Marcus. Linda would accuse Marcus of being the reason for their son's anger, "He needs a dad who is around," she'd tell him. "He needs a mom who isn't a fucking bitch all the time," Marcus would rage.

It didn't help that Marcus would ask Krist if he won the playground fights, egging him on and praising him for them. "Be a real fighter like your ole man," he would tell him, playing socking him.

When Krist was ten, Linda met Bill, a well-to-do attorney in the area that her friends had introduced her to. Bill seemed nice at first. He took them all to basketball games, out to dinner, and even to Disneyland.

Linda and Bill got married when Krist was twelve. They sold Linda's home and moved into a large home that overlooked the Columbia River. Things were fine for a while. Until Krist began fighting at his new school. Bill felt that Linda needed to be harder on him, which led to more friction between the couple. He'd hear Bill demanding Linda ground him, yell at him, discipline him, which in turn meant Linda storming into the room, fighting back tears while yelling that she was tired of his crap, and he needed to act right.

Krist had gotten into a fight in the 9th grade with another boy who liked the same girl that he did. The fight had worked in his favor with regard to the girl, Maddie. However, he was suspended from school for a week, and as punishment, Bill insisted Linda send Krist to stay in Longview with his dad during that time. "He doesn't need to be sitting in our nice home, enjoying himself."

Linda had driven him the 45 minutes to his dad's small, box-shaped home, apologizing profusely. Krist had never felt angry with his mom when she bent to Bill's wishes. He always felt bad for her but wished she'd grown a spine and stood up to him like she had his dad, though it never happened.

As for staying with his dad, aside from the fact that the house was a 600-square-foot shitbox, it wasn't all that bad. His dad was working overtime at the chicken plant, and when he was home, he was sharing beers and joints with his teenage son. Krist had met a girl who lived next door to his dad and lost his virginity during that stay. His father had been so proud of him. His boy was no longer the fucking crybaby. He was fighting and fucking, his boy. Taking after Dad, not like that sissy brother of his.

Krist returned to his mom and Bill's with a newly found cockiness. He wasn't fighting anymore. He was looking for parties and pussy. There were fewer calls from the school, so as far as they knew, sending Krist off to his dad's for the week had scared him straight.

When Krist had started asking to visit his dad, red flags showed have appeared. Linda had made the naive assumption that Marcus was trying to make amends with his son.

One particular weekend, Krist had gone to visit his dad with Jeordie. They had hung out with a neighbor girl, Georgia whom Krist was fucking regularly,  and her friend while Marcus was at work.

Marcus had gotten off work early and apparently stopped off at the bar on the way home, he'd been completely faded. He had sent the girls home and pulled out a loaded dope pipe, "You ever smoke this shit?" he asked the two teenage boys.

"No," they replied in unison, shocked at what they were seeing.

That was when Krist learned to smoke dope and fell head over heels for it. He and Jeordie got high every chance they got, which usually was only when Krist would go to his dad's. Occasionally, somebody would have it at a party or knew someone who could get it, but generally, their friend circle was stoners.