Changing Seasons

Eleven

****

Tuesday morning came about like every other morning, Rocco cannonballing on Krist's stomach, "Daaaaaad, you got to wake up," he shouted, prying open his eyelid with two fingers.

"C'mon, bro," Krist groaned, guiding his son's hand away from his face.

"It's my Thanksgiving party today, bro!"

Krist was feeling like shit mentally but didn't want Rocco to pick up on it, "Like I'd forget that," he told him, tickling him. Rocco giggled before doing a backward somersault off the bed and jumping into a fight stance. He karate-kicked at Krist as he tried to walk by. "The fuck!" he laughed.

Rocco was always hella hyper. Krist had been like that as a kid, too. He had calmed down with age, but it got him in trouble wherever he went, especially at school. He hoped Rocco didn't have the same issues he did. That was a lot of the reasoning he'd enrolled him in Head Start. He was afraid Rocco would hit Kindergarten and struggle. He was known as the wild kid already, but the staff in the Headstart were patient and helped redirect him to what he should be doing.

"You want to get donuts for breakfast today?" Krist asked, knowing the answer already.

"Heck, yes!" Rocco jumped with joy.

"Sweet, go get dressed and grab your shoes."

Rocco hopped like a frog to his bedroom. The neighbor below them probably hated them, but oh well.

Krist went to the closet and pulled out a pair of Dickie's, the khaki-colored ones, a plain black shirt, and a black pullover hoody. He studied himself in the mirror. He had dark brown hair cut into a short fade, the same haircut he'd had his whole life. He debated about growing it longer and getting an undercut that looked pretty dope, and he could pull it off, but he felt like he'd look like too much of a dbag with it. Jeordie always gave him shit about looking like a douche with his jawline beard that he kept so meticulously trimmed. Fuck it, maybe he should just douche the fuck out and get the undercut.

Krist had been lucky and inherited his dad's build. He was 6 feet even with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. He'd gotten his mom's deep-set gray-blue eyes. He was slender, not underweight by any means, and ate constantly because he was always paranoid that he would become too thin and look like a tweaker. Even though he'd been clean for a few years now, every time he looked in the mirror, that's all he saw anyway. Is that what other people had viewed him as? When he was a teenager, he had been cocky as fuck. He often wondered, now that he was older, was that genuine confidence or just a front? Even if it had been a front, he wished sometimes he had even a tiny bit of it back.

"Dad, I'm ready!" Rocco interrupted his thoughts, his shoes on the wrong feet.

"Good job getting dressed. We got to fix your shoes, though." Rocco jumped on the bed, letting Krist swap and lace his shoes. "Alright, let's brush our teeth."

After brushing their teeth together, Krist helped Rocco gather his things for school and then left to get breakfast. They went to the local donut shop probably once a week. It was one of Rocco's favorite things. He let Rocco pick whichever donut he wanted. It was always the messiest option available. This one was shaped like a turkey, and Rocco was stoked.

When they sat down, Krist took a photo of them together, donuts included, and sent it to Atira. "Who ya texting, daddddd," Rocco asked in a sing-song voice.

"Just a friend, bud."

Rocco took a drink of chocolate milk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Krist handed him a napkin, "What friend?"

"An old one."

Rocco gave him a serious face but accepted his father's answer. After they finished eating, Krist dropped him off at school and got to work. The day went as expected, busy with jam-packed grocery stores and long lines, but the tips were good.

He picked Rocco up from school and took a few more grocery orders after lunch. He was trying to make as much money as possible since he wouldn't be working Thursday and wasn't expecting many people to need food delivered the day following Thanksgiving. Rocco didn't have school on Wednesday. He planned on dropping him off at his grandparents' house so he could spend the entire day working.

They got home around 5 that evening. Krist turned on Rocco's shows and made chicken Alfredo tortellini, one of Rocco's favorites. He texted a photo of himself cooking dinner to Atira.

She replied, "Nothing sexier than a man in the kitchen <3 Lol," Krist smiled, "I'd say you are," he replied mischievously. Atira texted a blush emoji in response.

Krist plated Rocco and himself, telling Rocco to wash his hands and return. They sat down together, "You excited for Grandma's?"

Rocco nodded, "Yeah, I'll probably just play on her computer," he told him.

"That's all you're going to do?"

"Yeah."

Krist raised an eyebrow, "You're not going to help her make food?"

Rocco shrugged, taking a bite of food, "If I want to," he told his father calmly.

He knew Rocco couldn't help but liked teasing the boy, "Help your grandma."

"Am I going to my tia's later?" he asked.

"Yes, bud, you can go over there this weekend."

Rocco gave an enthusiastic cheer, "I want to see Lissette!"

Krist felt awful that Rocco didn't get to see his sister or any of his siblings as often as he should. He saw Lissette maybe once a month. His older siblings saw even less. He wondered if Rocco understood they were his siblings or thought they were cousins. He also wondered how he would eventually have the conversation that all four of them shared a mother who was nonexistent in any of their lives. He despised, no– hated, Karla for what she put the children through, even if they didn't realize it yet.

After dinner, Krist did the dishes, Rocco standing on a step stool "helping." Krist tried to encourage him to do chores as much as possible since he, himself, had been a lazier kid-or as his dad said, "coddled baby." Rocco seemed to enjoy helping. Even his teachers complimented him on his helpfulness. Krist was glad to see he was doing something right as a parent.

When they were done cleaning the kitchen, he had Rocco take a bath while he trimmed up his facial hair. He then helped his son into pajamas and tucked him into bed. They read one of Rocco's favorite books, I'm Programmed To Love You, by Elias Barks. They'd read that story so often that Krist could tell it without looking. Rocco listened with a smile, usually saying the words along with him. Krist turned on Rocco's nightlight and kissed the top of his head, "Night, bud, I love you," he told him.

Rocco smiled, "Love you, Dad," rolling over and closing his eyes. Krist closed the door quietly behind him.

"I'm gonna take a shower. You wanna chat when I'm done?" He texted Atira.

She responded almost immediately, "Always!"

He showered quickly, threw on some black jogger sweats, and retreated to his bedroom.