Changing Seasons

Forty-Three

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Though Krist had been able to joke about his father with Atira, he was having trouble processing his conversation as he lay in bed that night. It was pathetic that he let the fool live rent-free in his mind, but there he was, dwelling on the past. Again.

His entire youth had been consumed by wanting a father who loved him. Marcus was rarely present, and when he was present, he treated Krist as an inconvenience or annoyance. Krist understood that he was a hyper kid. A kid who needed too much attention or acted out for a reaction.

The times that Marcus did take his children, he tended to favor Kali and Brad, scolding Krist, "If your brother and sister can act right in public, so you can."

Krist had been five or six, and his dad had taken the trio to get school clothes at Walmart. He had told his dad multiple times he needed to use the bathroom. Each request is more and more urgent. Marcus scolded him, telling him he was old enough to fucking hold it. Krist peed his pants right there in the middle of the store. Marcus lost his shit.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're way too old to be pissing your pants." Marcus then instructed Kali and Brad to put all their shit back because Krist is a fucking baby who pisses himself. "Looks like you won't be getting any school clothes, guys. Thank your brother."

Krist started sobbing, humiliated.

Marcus hadn't let Krist live that down either. Reminding Krist and his siblings over the next few weeks he would have bought them school clothes if Krist hadn't pissed himself.

The whole thing had led to a blowout between his parents. Linda had accused Marcus of looking for any excuse to not buy them things like he always did.

"What? You think I should have walked around with him like that?" Marcus yelled, pointing an angry finger at Krist.

"You could have cleaned him up and gone back. Or even given me the money to buy them the things."

"Yeah, I'm not trying to do all that."

Eventually, Krist had grown into an angry child, Brad generally taking the brunt of his explosive temper. Not because Brad was weaker than him but because Brad had been a kiss-ass tattletale delighted in Krist getting in trouble. It didn't just happen when they were with Marcus; it happened at home.

Though Linda was patient with the kids, Marcus was not. There was one time they had gone with him to visit their paternal grandparents for Easter dinner.

They lived in a big old farmhouse out in the country. Being inquisitive youngsters, Brad and Krist went snooping about. They dug through various drawers and chests. Krist had found a glass jar full of coins, triumphantly showing Brad.

Brad had tried to snatch it from Krist, resulting in a struggle between the two young boys. The jar had slipped from both of their hands and fell to the ground, shattering.

"I'm telling!" Brad hissed under his breath.

Krist wound his fist up, striking his older brother in the cheek. Brad let out a wail, running downstairs to tell their father.

Krist ran after him, hearing Brad tell his father he'd seen Krist stealing the coins. He had tried to stop him, but Krist broke the jar, hitting him and telling him he would do it again if he told.

His father always believed everything Brad said, even when it was a flat-out lie. He'd grabbed Krist by the elbow, dragging him upstairs, and pointed to the strewn-about coins and glass.

"Did you do this?" Marcus demanded.

"Yes," Krist admitted, chin quivering.

"You know what happens to thieves?"

"Yes." Krist fought back his tears.

Marcus made Krist pull his pants down, swiftly striking him twice with the belt. He had tried his best not to cry, but the stinging pain was horrible. Shaking, Krist pulled his pants up and followed his dad downstairs. Brad flashed him a smug grin as Marcus informed his grandparents what Krist had done, that he was a little thief.

Most of his younger years with his father had been that way. Of course, when Krist had grown into a rebellious teenager, he had finally felt accepted by his dad. They'd shared drug use as a common ground. For once, he felt some level of camaraderie with him.

They'd had a few good times while Krist lived with him if one could call them that. Krist had remembered feeling hella cool tagging along with his dad to buy dope at his buddy's house. His dad introduced him proudly as his boy.

When his dad was in a decent mood, he was like a middle-aged teenager. They'd tweak all night, bumping Tupac and Westside Connection while playing cards or Xbox. His dad would brag about the random broads he bagged back in the day while Krist joked about his player ways.

Krist had not been mature enough to realize that no good father would encourage the things Marcus had. He understood that his choices played a huge factor in things. In hindsight, it felt as though Marcus was trying to set him up for a lifetime of failure. Whether it was intentional or not was an entirely different question.

It felt intentional when Marcus gave his meth-addicted son the boot without warning. They had been getting along for the most part, smoked shit together, and Krist even hooked him up with dope regularly.

The day Marcus had kicked Krist out did not seem out of the ordinary. They shared a bowl before Marcus left to pull a 12-hour shift at the chicken factory. Marcus had bitched him out for showering three to four times daily, but it wasn't a blowout fight.

Kristi had cleaned the shit out of the trailer and then spent the rest of that day scrolling through hookup apps and jacking off to porn.

When Marcus came home, Krist was sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette while listening to music on his phone.

Marcus was obviously in a shitty mood as he approached him. "You've been here long enough. I need you to get out."

Krist had been caught off guard and laughed. "Yeah, okay." he flicked the ash from his cigarette.

"I'm not playing with you. You're eighteen. It's time for you to take care of yourself."

Krist rolled his eyes, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Dude, you don't even take care of me. Mom gives me money."

"You live in my house, use my shit. I'm tired of it. You're a little fucking leech."

He'd ignored his father, scrolling through his phone. Marcus and his mood swings weren't unusual. He'd just bitch at him, disappear for a few hours and come back chill. Maybe it was Krist's cocky attitude, but Marcus wasn't trying to chill.

Instead, he told Krist to pack his shit and leave. Right then. So that's what he did.