1
Waking up alone had not been something he had expected to do on his 42nd birthday but that’s what it was. She had moved out nearly five months prior but that didn’t make the bed feel any less empty. He missed Atira.
A lot.
Going from going to sleep beside her and waking to her face every morning for fifteen years to waking up alone was not an easy transition, especially for someone as codependent as Krist was.
Although they assured each other that the separation was temporary until she was sober and they were able to overcome their problems as time went on, it seemed less and less likely that they would be reconciling.
In the beginning, once the shock of her moving out had gone away, Krist had felt optimistic. Atira was going to weekly outpatient treatment and attending one or two AA meetings a week. They agreed that perhaps they return to dating as their relationship had rushed past the courting phase.
They’d even celebrated their fifteenth wedding anniversary at a Bed and Breakfast together, the weekend was mostly spent in bed as they made up for six weeks without one another’s touch.
However as March came and went, so had Atira’s dedication to her treatment. She felt burdened by the time commitment when she was already putting in sixty-plus hours a week at her job, juggling the kids and trying to squeeze in some me time.
Towards the end of April, Krist discovered not only had she fallen off the wagon, but she’d also agreed to go on a blind date with a guy that someone (Most likely her shady friend Jillian) had set her up with. She admitted to having a one-night stand with him but told Krist it wasn’t serious and had “just sort of happened”.
To say it hadn’t hurt to find that out would have been a lie, he’d been crushed. It had been the push he needed to realize he had to stop holding his breath for reconciliation so he took the plunge into dating apps. He’d chatted with a few chicks, made plans to meet, and ghosted them. It was shitty of him but it was easier than admitting he just wasn’t ready to date or even hook up with anyone…and god knows he wanted to fuck.
Where the hell had his confidence gone? That was something he asked himself daily. Krist had been cocky as hell when he was younger, he had no issues talking to women. He supposed a failed marriage would do that though.
Krist supposed maybe being alone would be the best option. No drama, no stress, no failed expectations.
He pulled his tired corpse out of bed, dressing in his usual khaki-colored Dickies pants, white tee, and matching button-down. He was already dreading the day ahead.
“There’s the birthday boy,” Rocco called to him obnoxiously, “You grew overnight! How tall are you now, my Short King? 5’8? 5’9?”
Krist was by no means short. He stood at a solid six feet which was a whole inch shorter than his eldest son who delighted over the fact he was taller than him.
Rocco was going to be salty when his little brother dwarfed him though. Gabe was fourteen and already 5’11. The awkward lanky growth spurt he was going through told Krist Gabe would be tall. Taller than Rocco undoubtedly.
“You know it isn’t child abuse to sock your ass up now,” Krist told Rocco.
“Calm your tits, don’t need you pulling a muscle trying to fight me,” Rocco smirked.
“You've never been in a fight in your life, my money is on Dad,” Gabriel piped in, “He’s scrappy.”
Krist popped a K-cup into the Keurig, “And that’s why you’re my favorite son,” he told the fourteen-year-old.
“Sounds like you have some racial bias towards me,” Rocco told him.
That was his new go-to joke. Rocco’s birth mom, Karla, was Hispanic, so he loved to tell Krist that perhaps he was a little racist or ask him if a certain rule was in place because he was brown. Krist would always tell him he didn’t give a fuck about no color, x, y, or z rule applied because he was a dumb ass, not because he was brown.
“Happy birthday, dad!” Audrey smiled, “I was going to get up early and make you breakfast but I overslept.
“It’s the thought that counts,” he told her.
“Kiss ass,” Rocco hissed at her.
Audrey discretely flipped him the bird, “I can make you breakfast tomorrow though,” she said in a syrupy sweet voice.
“You don’t have to do that,” he told her. The gesture was nice but he had a nervous stomach and didn’t want to deal with fucking bubble guts all day at work.
“Where you taking us to eat tonight?” Rocco asked, shoveling Lucky Charms into his mouth, “Somewhere nice I hope.”
“I’m not taking your ass nowhere,” Krist told him, eyebrows furrowing, “Nice try though. Drop your brother and sister off at school for me, I’m taking off early.”
Rocco groaned, “Bruh…”
“Their school is literally on your way, chill.”
Asking Rocco to do anything was like pulling teeth and the closer he got to graduating, the more stubborn he became. Krist loved his son but goddamn was he an asshole. He was certain his mom felt the same way about him because, well, he’d been an asshole.
Krist stepped outside, it was a nice morning. Warm, fifty-something degrees. The kind of day he would have liked to spend the day smoking bud on the front porch and enjoying the fresh air. Instead, he would be cooped up in his windowless office.
Mark’s car was gone for the morning, not surprising though. He got up at three to hit the gym at four and made it to work by six. Mark did that five, sometimes six days a week.
In the near six months that Mark had been staying with Jeordie and Cami, he had grown into a responsible young man. Krist was genuinely proud of who his little brother had become.
Mark had gotten his GED, and his driver's license and saved up money to buy his first car, a Toyota 4Runner. Krist insisted on contributing half the cost of the vehicle as nobody had ever helped Mark do shit and he deserved it more than anyone he knew.
On top of that, he had gotten a good-paying gig down at the lumber mill, proud to be on “real fucking medical insurance, not no Medicaid” for the first time in his life.
Mark was doing amazing. He was Cali-sober as Krist called it, sticking to his green, he had bulked up and become a gym rat, transforming his slight build to a jacked 260 pounds. He was nearly unrecognizable.
Krist enjoyed the fact his brother had become a newfound health nut, it kept his ass in check too. They spent Sundays meal-prepping for the week, Mark drug him to the gym with him. They'd even got Gabriel involved.
“You got the same build as I did, gotta start eating right and lifting heavy,” Mark told the teenager, “You gonna be yoked like a muhfucker, gonna be drowning in bitches.”
That was all Gabe needed to hear. Somehow Mark had been the motivation he needed to get out of his funk and work on bettering himself. Krist had no complaints about that.
Too bad Mark couldn't be a good influence on Rocco’s ass. Rocco was a stubborn fuck and one of those dipshit eighteen-year-olds who felt like they knew everything about everything and that he was invincible.
Krst knew Rocco was fucking around with drugs, he wasn't sure exactly which but he was doing more than just smoking weed. One night Rocco came home, pupils big as hell, covered in sweat. He swore that fool was tweaking.
“Nah, dropped some fucking Molly,” Rocco protested, his jaw jutted to the side, “Me and the homegirls hit a party.”
The homegirls. They consisted of a couple of strippers and his sort of cousin Jade.
“You know they cut that shit with dope,” Krist lectured him.
Rocco had gotten all huffy, “Not everybody is a fucking tweaker. Worry about yourself, hating ass fool.”
If Krist hadn't been dealing with his depression over the separation, he would have raised hell but he was so emotionally defeated that nothing happened. Rocco carried on like he always did, coming and going as he pleased. His grades were up, he went to school and worked so Krist felt as though he didn't have a left to stand on.
Rocco was graduating in a few weeks and moving in with his half-brother Junior so Krist didn't want their last couple of weeks to be miserable together.
Krist stopped at Dutch Bros for his free birthday drink, his phone ringing as he pulled out of the driveway.
Atira.
“Aye,” he answered, his heart rate increasing, “Good mornin’.”
“Happy Birthday,” she said in a sing-song voice.
A smile spread across his face, “Hey thank you.”
“Did you take the day off?”
“Nah, it's just another day,” he said, not wanting to add the fact that he saw no point in spending the day alone.
“Aw, Krist…well are you doing anything special tonight?” she pressed.
“No, going back and kicking it at home,” he said with a sigh.
“Well that's lame…if you aren't doing anything, maybe I can stop by?” Atira asked.
“Yeah, of course. I mean, if you aren't doing anything,” he said trying to sound nonchalant.
“Ok…I can pick up a cake or something. I don't want you to spend your birthday all alone…like…” she sighed softly, “We aren't…we are only separated, Sooo…”
Krist chewed the inside of his cheek, “Yeah, that works.”
“You still get off at five?”
“Yup, like always.”
“Ohkayyy,” she said, “Well, I'll let you go. Have a good day…Krist…I…lo-I will see you tonight ok?”
“Take care, Atira,” he said, the thrill of hearing her voice being consumed by the void again as he ended the call.
Some days, he wanted to overlook her drinking and the fact she had lied to him over the details of her one-night stand and let her come home. They could carry on as they always had, maybe she would realize their marriage was worth staying sober.
But then again…she was drinking again.
Krist sat in his parked car outside of work, watching a young man, perhaps a few years older than Rocco and Mark stand, if one could call it standing, in an uncomfortable position with his head between his knees, arms limp, pants drooping as they were a few sizes too big.
That was someone's son. The thought made his heart hurt. He may not have even come from a shit family, addiction hurt all walks of life. He could have been someone’s pride and joy, a kid with goals and hopes and dreams only to have them snatched from him when he fell into addiction.
He saw that every damn day. Shit, he lived it himself. Never with opioids, he fucking love his meth in the day though.
Krist found himself getting down, thinking back to Mark’s comment from the other day.
“Aye Krist, my homie down at the gym said that being emotional could be a sign of low testosterone, you oughta get your t levels checked.”
Of course, Rocco had overhead, howling with laughter, “You know his t is probably negative!”
Fucking Rocco.
Sighing, he grabbed his laptop bag and Dutch Bros, locking the Acura behind him.
The young dude on the curb swayed dangerously toward the street, nearly falling off the curb. Reacting on instinct, Krist was able to catch him, startling the guy.
“Oh shit,” he grumbled.
“Aye, go sit down, your ass almost fucking fell,” Krist scolded him. He wasn’t trying to be a dick but damn dude, sit the fuck down.
“Ah man…good looking out bro,” the junkie told him, stumbling towards the wall of Krist’s workplace.
The spot was fitting for him as Krist worked in a youth drug and alcohol treatment clinic as a Juvenile Chemical Dependency Counselor.
It was a tireless job that often left him emotionally burnt out but being able to make a positive impact on a young person’s life was worth it.
“Morniiiiin’!” the two receptionists called to him in unison.
Marguerite and Sidney. Both of them were bubbly, twenty-somethings who play-flirted with him but made him feel very much aware of the fact he was pretty much old enough to be their dad.
He heard them giggling to each other as he unlocked his door. When he opened the door, he saw why. His office was filled with teal, silver, and blue balloons with a large Happy Birthday banner hung over his desk.
A smile spread across his handsome face, “I hate it!” He told them with a laugh.
Marguerite stood in the doorway, holding a small chocolate cake, cackling, “I knew you would, but it got you to smile!”
“Pshh, how did you even know it was my birthday?” He asked stealing frosting from the cake.
“We have our sources,” Sidney told him, a mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes.
Marguerite laughed, “That, sir, is protected by HIPAA!”
He furrowed his eyebrows, “Did your stalker ass look at my account?”
“Noooo!” She told him, a wide smile spread across her glossy red lips, “But you don’t need to know how we found out.”
“We don’t disclose our sources,” Sidney smirked, folding her arms across her we’ll-developed chest.
Ok, she may have been too young for his tastes but he wasn’t blind. Sidney had big tits.
Krist took a seat at his desk, holding back his grin, “I really do appreciate this you guys, thank you, it means a lot,” he told them.
“So you don’t hate it?” Sidney asked.
“Ohhh, I hate it, but it was a cute gesture,” he grinned.
