The Art of Breathing

by T. J. Klune

  I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him briefly. You won’t lose me, I told him. Because I’m not lost. Not anymore.

  Then why?

  So I can stand by your side.

  Ty—

  Hush. There’s still time.

  And there was, though it went by faster than either of us wanted it to.

  I’d wake up and he’d be sleeping at my side.

  I’d be reading Brave New World and feel his fingers in my hair.

  He laughed, that broken, rusty sound.

  His hand in mine, fingers intertwined.

  Looming above me as I called out his name, my head rocking back, his lips against my neck.

  Holding me when the earth shook beneath me when I woke from a dream where Julie had taken Mrs. Paquinn away from me. I tried to tell him it was real, it was all so real, and the kite flew so high, but I couldn’t get it out past the air lodged in my throat and lungs. He rubbed my back as he whispered in my ear. He said, I’m here, I promise it’ll be okay, and Breathe, Ty. Just breathe. You can do this because it’s who you are. You’re bigger than this. You’re stronger than this.

  And I was. For a while. For him.

  Dartmouth agreed to take me back. On probation, of course. You’ll have to be exemplary, the guidance counselor warned. One misstep and you’re gone.

  There wouldn’t be. Not this time.

  The date grew closer.

  I’ll come and see you, he argued.

  I shook my head. No. I need to do this. Can’t you understand?

  He could. I know he could. But he said, No. No, Tyson. I can’t. You’re being ridiculous. I know you think you need to go away, and that’s fine. But to cut everyone off?

  I’m not, I told him. We can talk as much as you want. I’m not cutting everyone off. I am asking for a chance to take a step on my own.

  And round and round it went.

  Until I left.

  Those four words. He knew. Somehow, he knew. He always did.

  I’ve had good days over the past four months. I’ve had bad days. I had one day, brought on by nothing more than a fleeting memory (a knock on the door and she’s there, saying, Hi, Tyson! Hi, I’m here! I’ve missed you and I’m here!) that caused me to seize up and struggle to breathe. There’s no bathtub in the apartment. It’s why I moved here.

  I ended up under the bed that day. It passed, as these things do. Eventually, I could breathe.

  Therapy helped. Now that I allowed it to. It’s easy to be told what my issues are. The hard part is finding a way to fix them.

  It probably helped that I started to listen. Never underestimate the power of giving a shit. Trust me when I say it works wonders.

  There’s no magical cure. There’s no sudden miracle where one day I’ll wake up and everything that’s plagued me will be a thing of the past. It doesn’t work that way. No matter how much I want it to. It just doesn’t happen. That’s life, though.

  But there are ways to push through it. There are ways to beat it back.

  I’m Tyson Thompson, formerly Tyson McKenna, aka the Kid. And I can beat anything.

  But it’s easier when there’s someone like him waiting.

  I talked to him almost every day. About nothing. And everything.

  We made plans, though I don’t know if we understood we were making them.

  At some point, the conversation changed from I to we.

  That part never scared me, even when I became aware it was happening.

  It’s inevitable, after all.

  Kind of like him. Dom’s inevitable.

  And it’s inevitable he’d show up here. In this place. This town, this apartment. My room.

  He could only stay away for so long. I’m surprised he was able to last four months, to be honest. Tenacious, that one.

  “Me,” he says from behind me, and I close my eyes because they burn. I close my eyes because I shake. I close my eyes not because I can’t breathe, but because it’s all I can do to keep from leaping up and jumping in his arms and telling him he can never let me go. That I’ve been gone long enough and he can never let me go.

  But, of course, there’s an almost-naked roommate and a computer screen filled with family to contend with first. My life is so fucking weird.

  Thank God for that.

  “Holy shit,” Rob breathes. “You weren’t kidding about him. Does he have some kind of growth abnormality? Was he hit by gamma radiation? That can’t possibly be healthy.”

  “If you want to live,” Corey tells him, “it’s probably a good idea that you run as fast as you can.”

  “Ty?” I hear Bear ask worriedly.

  I’m okay. I’m okay.

  Because I am.

  Things change. Goals. Dreams. Everything about who I am.

  I’ll still conquer the world. You can bet your ass on that.

  But for now, I think it needs to be me and him.

  Me and Dom.

  I open my eyes.

  Everything is so bright. Like stars exploding.

  Rob’s babbling about something. I turn my head.

  Dom’s watching him with something akin to bemusement. He must feel my gaze on him because he looks over at me. The corner of his mouth curves up slightly. He shrugs just once and leans against the doorway, letting Rob talk himself into a deeper hole. Dom trusts me. He knows nothing happened here. Nor would anything happen.

  “… and it’s not like I’m trying to seduce him or anything,” Rob is saying. He sounds hysterical. “I mean, he’s not even my type. What is he, two foot six? I like my guys big. Though not as big as you. How do you even fit through doors? Do you cause children to have nightmares? What was it like living on top of the beanstalk?”

  “Rob,” I say.

  He looks over at me. His eyes are wide. His towel is somehow still hanging on. “I don’t want to have sex with you!” he shouts.

  “My life is so weird,” I mutter.

  “How is this weird?” Bear asks. “I thought we were pretty normal.”

  “Don’t you worry about it,” Otter tells him. “You’re the most normal thing there is.”

  “That’s a big, fat lie,” Creed says.

  “It really is,” Anna agrees. “Normal does not begin to describe us.”

  “Well, I think this is pretty normal for us,” Corey says.

  “Trust me when I say I’ve got you beat,” Sandy sighs. “The majority of you don’t know Paul in person.”

  “Paul?” Bear asks. “Who’s that? Is that a friend of yours, Sandy? Do I get to meet him?”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Corey says.

  “Why?”

  “Because the world isn’t ready for such a cosmic revelation,” Sandy says. “It’s best to just wonder what could have been.”

  “And because the monologuing back and forth would kill us all,” Corey says under his breath.

  “What?” Bear asks sharply.

  “Nothing,” Corey says, smiling wide.

  I turn back to Dom. Rob’s gone. I didn’t even hear him go. It’s only Dom and me now. Well, almost. I’ll just ignore the six people on my computer screen behind me for now. I need to get my legs working again.

  “You knew,” I say simply.

  He nods.

  “Aw,” Sandy and Corey sigh.

  “How?” I ask, though I already know.

  “I know you, Ty,” he says. Of course he does. And of course he knows. I just needed time. But it’s been long enough, I think. It’s time to make plans.

  “So sweet,” Anna says with a sniff.

  “I’m standing,” I tell him. “Not right this second. But… you know. I think I’m standing.”

  Dom smiles. “That’s good.”

  “This is so special,” Creed says in a fluttery voice. “Seriously. Is it weird for me to want to scream that you guys should kiss? Goddammit, Anna! Your pregnancy hormones are contagious!”

  “What?” Bear asks. “Is that possible?” He sounds slightly pa
nicked. “How in God’s name are we ever going to have a baby when the donor will keep infecting us with hormones?”

  “Creed’s just being dramatic,” Otter reassures him. “They’re not contagious.”

  “Watch out, Bear,” Creed says. “You’re going to find yourself crying for no reason and things like watching Dominic and Tyson fall for each other right in front of you will make you want to dance and sing and tell the world how much you love it and everyone in it.”

  “I can’t dance!”

  “Creed, you’re not helping,” Otter sighs.

  “But it’s just so easy!”

  “I’m going to have to sing?” Bear cries. “Have you heard my singing voice? I sound like a baby seal being clubbed with a bike horn!”

  “That’s probably not the best analogy to use in the present company,” Corey says. “Ty’s a hippie, after all.”

  The PETA rage descends. “Do you know how many baby seals are murdered each year, just so uppity bitches can wear…”

  “And the romance is gone,” Creed says. “This is what I get for giving a shit about stuff like this. It’s all swoony and pretty and then it devolves into clubbing baby seals.”

  “It’s still swoony and pretty,” Anna tells him.

  “… and they have their seal skin boots, and they should be clubbed themselves…”

  “Well, kind of,” she says.

  “Tyson,” Otter says.

  “What? Those poor defenseless animals who want nothing more than to enjoy a nice swim and a bit of fish!”

  “Focus.”

  Oh. Right. Dom’s here. I turn back to him. He’s still in the doorway. He’s amused by me, as he always seems to be. My heart skips a couple of beats in my chest. It’s not the same, seeing him on the computer. Hearing his voice on the phone. It’s not the same as having him here. Within reach. If only I could get my legs to work.

  “I’m making plans,” I tell him, as if he should know what I’m speaking of.

  And yet, somehow, I think he does. “I thought you might.”

  “Did you? I just started making them, I think. Maybe just right this second.”

  “Good plans?”

  “I think so.”

  “What are they talking about?” Creed whispers from behind me.

  “The language of love,” Sandy sighs.

  “Gross,” Bear says. “Sort of.”

  I think hard. “But we’ve been doing that this whole time, haven’t we?”

  Dom nods. “Yeah.”

  “You just waited for me to figure it out myself.”

  “I knew you’d get there eventually.”

  “How?”

  “Because you’re you,” he says. “I just had to wait.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say thickly. “That I made you wait again.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Ty.”

  “This is starting to feel uncomfortably intrusive,” Creed says. “I was just here for the surprise, but now it seems like things are about to get freaky.”

  “Time to go,” Anna says.

  “Why?” Bear demands. “What do you mean freaky?”

  “We’re going to let them go,” Otter says. “To be alone.”

  “Alone? Freaky? Wait. Wait. Does that mean they’re going to…. Otter, don’t you touch that computer! Tyson! You better be wearing condoms, you hear me? Wear two of them! It’s safer! It’s—”

  By the grace of God, he’s cut off as the call is disconnected.

  Dom shuts the door behind him.

  “I was coming home,” I tell him.

  “I know,” he says. He takes a step toward me.

  “I was going to keep my promise.”

  “I know.” Another step.

  “I found something. With you.”

  “Did you?” Another step.

  “Yes. I think….”

  “What?” One more step. He towers above me. He’s all I can see. “What do you think?”

  And for the first time, I say the words I’ve wanted to believe for so long. “I think I’m going to be okay.”

  He smiles. “Finally.”

  “Maybe not all the way,” I warn him.

  “But close enough.” He reaches out and takes my hands in his. Pulls me up. Wraps his arms around me. I breathe him in.

  “This isn’t going to be easy,” I say. “Some days might suck.”

  “They might,” he agrees.

  “And I’m still going to be slightly manic.”

  “Probably,” he says. “Slightly.” He moves his hands up and down my back.

  “And I come with a whole shitload of issues.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” he says, kissing my forehead.

  “And I never stop talking.”

  “Noted,” he says, lifting my shirt so he can touch bare skin.

  “We need to make plans,” I tell him as he kisses my neck.

  “We have been,” he says. “And we will.”

  “Dom?”

  “Ty?”

  “We’re inevitable. Aren’t we?”

  He stands up tall and cups my face in his hands. His gaze locks onto mine, and I tremble. “Yeah, Ty. We are. We always have been. And we always will be.”

  There are other things that need to be said. Other things that need to be worked out. Other worries to focus on. And one very important thing he needs to hear from me. But those can wait. For now.

  My shirt is up and over my head, and I’m fumbling with his buttons and zippers and buckles. I graze his flesh with my hands and I think back on what it’s taken for us to get to this point. All that we’ve sacrificed. All that we’ve done wrong. All the hurt and the pain and the sorrow. It’s worth it. I know that now. Life can suck. It can hurt. It has teeth and won’t hesitate to bite you. But if you pick yourself back up every time it knocks you down, it’ll start to hurt less, because you’ll be stronger. Greater. You’ll become who you’re supposed to be. At least, I think that’s how it works. I hope.

  But that doesn’t matter now.

  All that matters is him and me. Because that’s all there is.

  He lifts me up and puts me back down on the bed. He stands over me, just watching.

  “What?” I ask him.

  He shakes his head. “Just you,” he says. “Ty?”

  “Mmm?”

  “This.”

  “This?”

  “Us.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s good, huh?”

  “Yeah. It’s good.”

  “Solid.”

  “As a rock.”

  “Better.”

  “Than what?”

  “I thought it could be.”

  “Took us a while.”

  He chuckles. “You could say that.”

  “It won’t be easy.”

  “Nothing worth having ever is.”

  I smile. “That’s pretty damn cheesy.” I reach for him. He lets me pull him down. “Lucky for you it worked.”

  He laughs as he lies atop me, and I can feel it rolling through him as he stretches out and covers me completely. The weight of him is crazy and wonderful, and I can’t catch my breath, but, God, do I breathe as hard as I can.

  It’s the breath I take when his nose bumps mine.

  It’s the breath I take when his tongue touches mine.

  It’s the breath I take when he grunts in my ear and I hear him whisper, “Oh, Ty. Oh. Oh.”

  It’s the breath I take when he swallows me down and my hands are in his hair.

  It’s the breath I take that allows me to cry out when he pushes into me, and it’s the breath that leaves me when the stars explode all around me.

  It’s the breath I take when I release. He follows me soon after.

  It’s our breaths that mingle when he kisses me long and deep.

  It’s in all these breaths. Him and me. It’s inevitable, of course.

  The art of breathing always is.

  LATER, AS the sunlight stretches along our bare skin, we begin to
speak our plans aloud. They’re almost the same. Funny, that.

  He’s drifting off to sleep when I let myself say the words that have been in my heart for as long as I can remember. It’s not as hard as I thought it would be. “I love you,” I say.

  Dom smiles.

  30. The Art Of Breathing

  I WANT to tell you a story.

  Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in a little town near the sea. This little boy was smarter than he had any right to be. He was meddlesome. Manipulative. Damaged and broken, though he always tried to hide it. Sometimes he didn’t do a very good job at that. He always thought he knew what he was talking about, even when he didn’t. He made mistakes. He’d go on to make many of them. But that’s what happens when you’re a little guy, and despite all his faults, he loved his big brother with his whole heart.

  This little boy and his big brother lived in a shitty little apartment with a mother who was not a mom. One day when the little boy was very young, the mother left.

  The little boy was lost, because they’d once flown a kite together. He thought it meant something.

  The little boy and his big brother drifted for a very long time.

  They lived, but it wasn’t living.

  They breathed, but did not understand the breaths they took.

  But it wasn’t meant to last. Nothing bad ever truly does, even if it seems like it’s all there is. Even if it seems like it stretches on forever.

  The little world, the little shelter they’d made for themselves to shield them, came tumbling down, and they blinked into the sunlight and saw that it was good. Sure, storms came. The ocean rose. Earthquakes happened. There were still times when they climbed into the bathtub, sure things were going to go back to the way they were.

  Somehow, they didn’t.

  But you know this already.

  You’ve heard this all before, haven’t you?

  It’s funny to think, isn’t it? How long it’s been since this all started. How long ago that once upon a time happened. How little we once were. How much we have changed. We have lived and loved. We have loved and lost. Once upon a time. But don’t stories that start like that end happily? I think they do.

  And I think this one will too.