1
“C’mon bro,” Krist called impatiently to his four-year-old son, “We are gonna be late to your school.” Rocco was busy playing with the damn cat instead of getting ready. ”Bruh.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Rocco grinned, thundering down the hallway to grab his dinosaur rain boots.
Krist strode into the living room, where Atira sat comfortably on the sofa, her work laptop on the armrest. Her hair was done, and light makeup accentuated her delicate features. She was wearing a long-sleeved white polka dot blouse that tied at the neck and an oversized pair of Krist’s basketball shorts.
Krist smirked, “Nice choice of clothes, baby.”
She looked at Krist, “Hey before you judge, I’ve got Zoom meetings all day long and don’t want to wear real pants.”
“Aye, no judgment here. I think it’s hot,” he laughed, leaning down to kiss her.
“You headed out for the day?” She asked.
“Yeah, gonna drop Rocco off and then get to work,” Krist told her.
“Dad, I’m ready,” Rocco called, stomping into the room, boots on the wrong feet.
“Bruh....” Krist laughed, helping his son slip his boots off and put them on the right feet.
In barely three months, Krist Samson’s life had changed entirely. Just the beginning of November, he worked seven days a week between two jobs while raising his alone kid and enjoying the no-strings-attached single life.
In that timeframe, he had reconnected with his high-school sweetheart and was about to wed her in a few weeks. He was eager to settle into married life and focus on a family. He was almost twenty-seven and had sowed his wild oats for years. That shit was out of his system and behind him. Having a solid woman by his side sounded ideal, and the fact that Atira was fine as hell was icing on the cake.
Atira made him want to become a better man. She pushed him to have goals for himself and continue to improve. Krist had been living his life one day at a time to provide for him and his son. They’d got by on gig work and odd jobs and the occasional help from his mom and stepfather.
Krist had decided he would look for a job that wasn’t Instacart or DoorDash once they’d gotten married, and from there, he would figure out whether he should get into some sort of trade or go to school. He would miss the flexibility of working when he wanted, but he needed something with actual benefits. Atira had offered to add Krist and Rocco to her medical. Still, he would have felt like a bigger lame being on her medical shit than them being on state medical.
Atira hadn’t looked down on him for making less money than her or being uneducated. Still, Krist definitely felt like a bum, regardless.
At least he wasn’t an actual bum no more, like he’d once been. He may not have lived on the streets, but he definitely bounced from couch to bed to couch for a few years when he was in active addiction and not with a girlfriend.
While the instability had kind of sucked, and it meant that he was limited to what fit in a duffel bag for his belongings, it wasn’t all that bad. He usually was out on some kind of meth-fueled mission, and he had loved it at the time.
Krist had liked the chaos that surrounded the dope scene. He thrived on the drama. One day he might have been out prowling cars for what shit to trade for shit he could sell or trade for dope. The next, he might have been holed up in a sleazy motel railing out some tweaker bitch til her pussy bled.
Of course, there was always the negative side of living that type of life. A dark side to things. He’d burnt bridges with both his parents. Ripping off his dad hadn’t bothered him much. His dad had actually taught him how to smoke meth and got high with him regularly.
As far as Krist was concerned, he was a monster of his father’s making, and Krist was an addict doing addict shit. Fuck him.
Stealing from his mom and stepfather left him feeling guilty and feeling like a sack of shit. They gave him so many opportunities to get help; they’d forgiven him countless times, and he’d burnt them.
When he’d gotten clean and mostly on his feet, he offered to pay them back everything he’d stolen, and they had declined. They told him that seeing him become a productive member of society was enough repayment for them.
Along with being a fucking fiend who ripped off everyone left and right, he’d managed to hurt people he cared for in other ways.
Krist had treated his girlfriends like shit. He’d missed the birth of his first child, who had been stillborn at twenty weeks, because he was high and busy fucking his then-girlfriend, Nina’s sister, Karla, at the time.
On top of that, he’d neglected her emotionally as she tried to grieve the loss of their son. Krist cared more about getting high and cheating to give her the support she needed.
He’d gotten physical with her a few times, too. She wasn’t the only girl he’d put his hands on either. He’d popped his ex-girlfriend, Heather, a time or two and had legit beaten his following ex, Lainey, to the point she’d had black eyes and missing teeth. All of the shit he did high and out of control of himself still hadn’t been enough to convince him to get clean.
What had done it was finding out that a random hookup he’d had with Karla several years after their initial thing resulted in him discovering he’d fathered her three-month-old son, Rocco.
It had been a wake-up call. He got his shit together, focused on being a dad, and left his toxic relationship with Lainey.
When Karla had decided to dip out, abandoning Rocco with his half-sister Lissette in a motel room with some dude, he took his son and was granted sole custody of him. Since then, his life was constantly improving. That little boy had saved his life. If it hadn’t been for his surprise birth, Krist probably would have continued down the same path, doing the same toxic shit.
There had been little to no optimism for Krist’s future as a single father from anyone associated with him. His mom and stepfather had told him once he’d gotten on his feet, they had expected him to relapse, and it would be them raising Rocco.
As much as the truth hurt, he didn’t blame anyone for expecting as much from him. He had been on one since the age of sixteen and hadn’t really stopped until Rocco.
Krist had grown up with a shit father and had been around countless addicts who had children in their care. His child was not going to grow up in that environment, and he sure the fuck wasn’t going to have his son growing up feeling less than loved or wanted.
Rocco was four and had lived with Krist full-time since he was shy of a year old. The little boy was happy, well-adjusted, and maybe a little hyper, but Krist felt like being a dad to Rocco was one of the only things he had done right.
The only regret with Rocco was that his biological mother was Karla Hernandez. Of course, that couldn’t be undone, and he worried about any long-term emotional effects that could have on his boy. Krist hoped that having Atira in the picture, as well as loving grandparents, aunts, uncles and honorary family members, would be enough for him.
