Changing Seasons

Forty-Four

****

"Hey, bro!" Krist greeted his son from the front steps of Head Start. Rocco jumped off the steps, landing in a puddle, his gray-blue eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy in the chilly weather. Krist was grateful Linda had taken him to get rubber rain boots over the weekend. "You have fun with your Grandma?"

Rocco skipped ahead, stomping in every puddle he passed. "Yeah, it was good. How come you didn't pick me up the other day?"

"Wasn't feeling good, my stomach was hurting." Not a complete lie but the soon-to-be four-year-old didn't need full details.

"You still sick, Dad?"

"A little bit but I feel better. Missed you, bud."

"Missed you too, Dad. Where's your car?" Rocco looked confused.

"Remember my friend Atira?" Rocco nodded. "She's visiting us. We are gonna get a Christmas tree after we stop at Grandma's to pick up your things."

"Oh. Okay. Did she bring her cat?"

"Sure did!"

Roco exclaimed "Yes!" as he fist-pumped the air.

Krist loaded him into the backseat, securing him in his five-point harness, double checking that the straps were tight enough.

Rocco chattered merrily in the backseat of Atira's Outback. He didn't seem to be bothered by her presence and was excited about the Christmas tree.

Krist mentally cursed himself for not taking pain relievers in the morning. His belly hurt like a mother fucker and it was his own doing. The doctor had told him to take it easy for a few weeks, Krist had chalked it up to no heavy lifting or exercise but figured sex would not be an issue. Boy was he wrong. He put on a happy face for Rocco, not wanting him to worry.

"Atira decorated the house for Christmas, Rocco," Krist told him, carefully turning to look at him in the backseat. Rocco cheered, grinning.

"Are you excited for your birthday?" Atira asked him.

"Yeah, I hope I get a lot of presents."

"I bet you will!" She turned, giving him a wink.

****

Krist pulled into his mom's driveway, Rocco announcing "We're here! Grandpa and I put up the lights."

The house was decorated with icicle-styled LED lights that had been neatly hung from the gutters with fairy lights wrapped around the railings of the porch. On the well-maintained lawn were light-up reindeer and Santa on his sleigh. Bill had done a very nice job with his display, keeping it festive without being overdone.

Linda was sitting on her sofa crocheting when Krist let himself in. Her living room was decked out with traditional holiday decorations in reds and greens. A massive Douglas Fir stood eight feet tall in the corner, covered in glass ornaments, tinsel, and light. A pile of gifts surrounded the tree in colorful wrapping.

"It looks beautiful in here, Linda." Atira gushed.

"Aw, thank you." Linda smiled, setting her crochet to the side.

"You know Atira decorated the shit out of my place." Krist boasted. "She did a badass job."

"It was nothing." She replied sheepishly.

"Mom, you got any ibuprofen?"

"In the medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom, where it always is." She nodded towards the hallway. "Everything okay?"

Krist shrugged, "A little sore."

He disappeared into the bathroom, flipping the light on and locking the door. He grabbed a bottle of Advil, taking four. Kristi removed his beanie, setting it aside.

Lifting his shirt, he took in the damage again. The splenectomy incision had a thin strip of tape covering the stitching but Krist could see that it looked fine. His side looked worse than it had the day prior, spreading into two purple, softball-sized bruises.

Staring at himself, he was overcome with a wave of anxiety as he thought back to Friday night, he hadn't even seen where the third guy came from. It had been somewhere in the parking lot but it happened so fucking quick.

Krist scuffled with the other dude for maybe thirty, or forty seconds. Just long enough to get a couple of swings in on him before they ended up on the pavement. That's when he'd gotten stuck by the third dude.

He hadn't realized it had happened with his adrenaline pumping from the fight. However, when he felt the knife pierce his scalp, hitting the hard bone of his skull, he knew what had happened.

There had been so much commotion. He and Dom fighting the three guys. Bryana's blood-curdling scream. Latrell pulled him up from the ground.

Krist's legs began to feel weak, trembling like he'd taken a fat hit of dope. He braced himself, palms flat on the ceramic countertop. Breathe, he reminded himself. This wasn't the first panic attack he'd ever had but it was the first one he'd had in a long while. Krist twisted the handle to the cold water, splashing it on his face and the back of his neck.

Think of anything else other than that night, he told himself, fighting back the visions of the stabbing and blood. Several minutes had gone by, his heart rate had slowed and he was able to catch his breath.

Not to raise suspicion, he flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and put his beanie back on his head.

"You feeling alright?" Atria asked when he returned to the living room.

"Yeah, just a little sick to my stomach."

"Are any of these for me?" Rocco demanded, trying to peek under the wrapping paper.

"Yo, get out of there bro." Krist turned on his dad voice.

Rocco shot him an irritated look, rolling his eyes. "Fine." He gave an exasperated groan, slowly dragging himself away from the presents.

"Go play with your toys. I thought you got new trains anyway." Rocco crab walked into the den, Atira hiding a laugh behind her hand. "Freakin' weirdo," Krist said to nobody in particular.

"You were just like that when you were his age," Linda pointed out.

"I don't know about that."

She looked at Atira smirking, "Krist was probably more hyper than Rocco though. He was always into something." Linda chuckled, "I think it's got to be hereditary so be prepared for that."

Kristi scowled at his mom, "So anyway, talked to Dad yesterday."

Linda looked startled, "How did that even come up?"

Kristi sat down next to Atira, "He fuckin' messaged me on Facebook because he what happened on the news and asked me to call him."

"How did that go?"

Kristi snickered, "Exactly like you'd think. He was fuckin' drunk and talked shit like he always fucking does."

"What did he say?" his mother wanted to know.

"Oh, that it was me and my lifestyle that got me stabbed. Ya know, because I'm doing lame shit like he does. Oh and get this, Mom. He has a kid. He's freaking Rocco's age."

Linda was appalled, "No way."

"Yeah. He was all 'Oh little Marky is the best thing to have ever happened to me', talking about how great he is."

"Well, hopefully, he tries to be a better dad to him than he was to you guys."

Krist scowled. "I fucking doubt it. Dude ain't nothing but a piece of shit and that's all he will ever be. I hate that mother fucker."