Changing Seasons

Fifty-Seven

****

Krist struggled to sleep that night, not from the excitement of the holidays but from the fact he couldn't stop thinking about his brother. Thanks, Brad. It felt like an alternate reality where he was the "together" brother and Brad was the loser fiend. Like, what the actual fuck?

Krist wondered what would have happened that night had he not been clean. Would he and good ole B-Rad have gotten high and bonded over dope? He knew everyone would have blamed him for Brad getting strung out, no doubt about it.

He had so many questions. Where did Brad even get into dope? He hung out with a bunch of medical professionals, not trailer trash losers like Krist. Brad saw how Krist's life was affected by meth and still thought it was a great idea. Did he get it from his girlfriend? Who the fuck was his girlfriend anyway? What if Brad had been a semi-functional addict all this time and had everyone fooled?

Krist certainly had never been someone who could keep his shit together when he was tweaking. He was all about the weird ass missions and drama. He tried to picture Brad in some of the situations he'd been in, but his brain wouldn't even let him imagine it. It just seemed so far-fetched. Brad may not have gotten into some of the same predicaments yet, but it was bound to happen.

Krist, within a few months of becoming active in the dope scene, had seen and even been involved with robberies, car theft, and assault. He'd watched Fernando pistol whip someone, Michael beat Athena, and he'd had guns pulled on him.

Brad clearly was beyond the weekend warrior meth user if he was showing up to family functions on one and then getting higher while there.

Krist rolled over, reached for his phone, and hesitated. Reluctant, he pulled up Brad's number and texted him: I ain't someone who goes to meetings, but if you ever want to hit one up, I'd be down to go. Message sent.

Atira stirred in her sleep, "Babe, what are you doing?" She murmured.

He showed Atira his phone message to his brother. She squinted one eye, trying to adjust to the phone's brightness as she read it, "You do care about Brad," she smiled.

"Doesn't mean I like him," he replied and plugged his phone into the charger before settling back into bed.

"I hope he takes you up on that," Atira said and snuggled close to Krist. He kissed the top of her head, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

****

"Daaaaad!" Rocco jumped on the bed next to his father. Since he'd accidentally landed on Krist's splenectomy incision, he had stopped cannonballing onto him. "It's Christmas! Wake up! Santa came!"

"Oh crap, dude! For real?" Krist sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Atira rolled over and smiled at the little boy, "Are you sure he came?"

"Yes! He ate the cookies and left presents," he exclaimed, eyes twinkling. "Come look!"

She swung her legs off the bed, allowing Rocco to lead her by the hand to the living room. Krist trailed behind, his feet shuffled as he yawned.

"Oh, you're right! Santa definitely came!" Atira grinned as she sat cross-legged at the base of the tree with Rocco.

Krist crouched, "Go ahead and open them up, bro!" He held up his phone and began recording.

Rocco tore through the shiny paper, holding up Lego sets, clothes, more clothes (ugh), a remote-controlled car, and socks. When Rocco started looking disappointed, Krist pointed to a package that had conveniently been "misplaced" under the couch. "Looks like Santa dropped something over there," he said and exchanged smiles with Atira.