The Art of Breathing

by TJ Klune

  I MAKE it farther on the second day. Grand Island, Nebraska. It’s pretty. And flat.

  I sit in a diner near the hotel. It’s late. I’m the only one in here. Apparently the fry cook knows how to make vegan waffles. His name is Abraham. Told me to call him Abe. He’s funny.

  I sit in a booth. The menu has pictures of the food on it. Reminds me of the place where Bear used to work a long time ago.

  I try to resist, but even I know it’s useless. I take out my phone and bring up the text from Dom, even though I know what it says. I touch those four words. Just once.

  What’re you looking at? the waitress asks. Her name is Estelle (Call me Este) and she’s the only one working aside from Abe. It looks like it hurts you. She frowns in concern.

  I shrug and put the phone away. Just a text.

  She hands me a glass of juice. It’s tart. Things that hurt you shouldn’t be kept around, she says.

  It’s okay, I tell her. It hurts in a good way.

  She nods like she knows what I mean, and I catch her glancing back at Abe in the kitchen. She smiles ruefully. Then that’s okay, Este says. Waffles coming up. They’re pretty good. Surprisingly.

  The waffles turn out to be very good indeed.

  I DON’T know what happens on the third day. One minute I’m fine, better than I’ve been the previous two days. The next minute, I see something or hear something (I don’t know, I don’t know), and all of a sudden, I am flooded by Dominic. I can hear him, taste him, smell him. He laughs in that broken voice. He moans my name. He asks me why I’m following the ants, and then he says good-bye. I see the look on his face, the lines around his eyes. The feel of his hair under my fingers. The way sunlight through the window plays across his face as he sleeps next to me. It’s all him, him, him, and his voice overlaps in my head, and everything he’s ever said to me starts ringing in my ears, and I think I’ll explode. I think I’ll explode from the force of it all.

  And through it all come the four words again, and on the side of a two-lane highway in the middle of nowhere, I hold onto them as tightly as I can.

  ON THE fourth day, I am in Girard, Pennsylvania, when I call him.

  I get his voice mail, as I knew I would. He’s at work.

  This is Dominic Miller. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back later.

  I close my eyes to the sound of his voice.

  The phone beeps in my ear.

  It’s me, I say. It comes out rusty. I clear my throat. Almost there. In Pennsylvania. I… I’m second-guessing myself again. But that’s what I do, I guess. I know this is the right decision. It has to be. I have to make sure I can stand on my own. I need to know I can do this. And I… shit. I got your text. You always know what I’m trying to say, don’t you? You always have. And I think you always will. Okay. Gotta go. I’ll… talk to you soon, okay?

  ON THE fifth day, just as the sun begins to set, I arrive back in Hanover, New Hampshire. I leave the SUV in the parking lot of Corey’s old apartment and head up the stairs.

  The key is where he said it would be: under the mat. His former roommate (and now my current one) left it there before he went out of town. A little vacation before school starts up again. Rob’s a good guy. It’ll be fine.

  I open the door to my new home.

  It’s clean. There are flowers on the kitchen table. A note from Rob. It’s sweet.

  Day after tomorrow, I meet with my advisor at Dartmouth to figure out the next steps.

  The day after that? Well, I guess we’ll see.

  I’m here now. That’s the first step.

  And slowly (but surely), I’ll put myself back together again. There is no other option.

  Those four words.

  I love you too.

  29. Tyson And Dominic

  Four Months Later

  “ARE YOU sure you don’t want to fuck?” Rob asks me from the doorway wearing nothing but a strategically placed towel. His pubes curl against the white cloth, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

  “I’m sure,” I tell him, turning back to my laptop. “But thanks for the offer. And all the ones that have come before it. Your persistence is alarmingly hysterical.”

  He shrugs. “I like to fuck.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I say. “Repeatedly. Through the walls. I don’t think I’m really your type, anyway. I’m not a muscle frat jock with a beer in his hand and a confused expression on his face.”

  “College is all about experimenting.” He rubs a hand over his chest and tweaks his own nipple. “I like experimenting.”

  “Then you should be a scientist,” I say. “I have finals to study for. And a boyfriend who is at least eight times your size.”

  Rob sighs as he sits on my bed. Well, Corey’s old bed. The towel parts and a thigh pokes through. As do his balls. God love him for trying. “Dom,” he says. “This truly magnificent specimen of a man who you won’t even let come visit you. What kind of sort of relationship is that?”

  “It’s what I need,” I say. Or maybe needed. I think things have changed. I think I’m close to being ready. I don’t know. I need to finish this semester and then sort out what’s next. I’ll go home for Christmas, and we’ll take it from there. I’ve got some ideas, but they’re just that: ideas. It’s a start. “He understands.” The patience of a saint, that one. At least I hope. If not, I’m totally screwed.

  “But what about the sex?” he asks me, exasperated.

  “It’s not always about sex,” I remind him.

  “Well, it should be partly about sex,” he says. “And you haven’t had any since you’ve been here.”

  “Does monogamy mean anything to you?” I ask, frowning at the term paper on the screen. I just used the words “shallow and morbidly pedantic” to describe Shakespeare. I don’t think that is going to get me an A. Maybe my bad poetry will. If old Bill could become famous for making people believe two whiny fourteen-year-olds falling in love over three days and then offing themselves is a love story, then I can write more bad poems about Santa/Satan and have them considered classics. It can’t be that hard. I should really look into publishing my works for posterity and the masses to enjoy in the millennia to come. The Tao of Ty.

  “It sure does,” Rob says. “Though nothing good. It’s like hearing you have herpes.”

  “I don’t think that’s quite right.”

  “So… no blow job?”

  “No blow job.”

  “Jerk me off?”

  “Hand cramps.”

  “Lie there while I do all the work?”

  “Skipped right past enticing and went straight on to creepy. Congrats.”

  He sighs again. “You know, it’s never this hard with anyone else. And I mean that in the dirty way too.”

  “Gross. Flattering, but gross. Maybe you should stop hanging around people who’re that easy.”

  “It’s not about the chase,” he says with a wicked grin. “It’s about the kill.”

  “Yuck.”

  My computer chimes and then the screen fills with Corey and Sandy, side by side. They look disgustingly pleased with themselves about something. This can’t possibly be good. “Hi, baby doll,” Sandy says warmly.

  “Oh good,” Corey says. “Nothing has happened yet.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “With Rob?”

  “Rob?” He sounds confused. “What about Rob?”

  “He’s pretty much naked on my bed asking me to have sex with him.”

  Corey pales slightly. “That’s… not the best timing.”

  “It never is,” I agree.

  “I am so alone!” Rob laments, as if he didn’t just come from washing the smell of the random guy who slinked out of his bedroom earlier this morning.

  “Twinkie parade,” Sandy says. “It’s like we’re in a Hostess factory.”

  “I’m not a twink,” I say with a scowl.

  “Yes, you are,” all three say at once.

  “Bastards.”

  Rob gets up from my be
d and drops his arm around my shoulder. His skin is still wet. Slick. It does absolutely nothing for me. Bless his heart for trying, though.

  “It’s snowing outside,” I tell Corey, ignoring Rob. “Let me guess. It’s ninety there.”

  “Seventy-six, but that doesn’t matter. Rob should leave.”

  “I can handle myself,” I reassure him. “He’s not that big.”

  “Well, that doesn’t bruise the ego or anything,” Rob mutters, squeezing my shoulder. It’s a wonder that towel is still hanging on. Gravity must not know how to handle ludicrous attempted seduction.

  “This is like watching one of those pay-porn sites,” Sandy says. “Like I could type in what I want you to do and then you’d do it.”

  “You can make money off that?” Rob asks, suddenly interested.

  “Tens and tens of dollars,” Sandy says. “And all the notoriety you could handle.”

  “Or,” Corey says, “you could leave, because you know about that one thing—”

  “Whaddya say, Ty?” Rob asks me, near my ear. “Wanna put on a show for them?”

  “Your breath still smells like semen,” I tell him. “That can’t be healthy. Brushing your teeth after swallowing is just good hygiene.”

  The computer chimes again. I wasn’t expecting anyone else. Weird. I click on the flashing box. Anna and Creed pop up on the screen next to Corey and Sandy.

  “Well,” Anna says, cocking her head, “this isn’t what I expected.”

  “My eyes!” Creed screams. “They’re filled with naked college boy flesh and I wasn’t prepared! How they burn!” He covers his face with his hands and rocks back and forth.

  “I’m doing pay-porn,” Rob tells them. “Type in what you want and I’ll do it.”

  Creed starts banging on the keyboard. “I want you to go away!”

  “Interesting,” Rob says, “it came through as you want me to drop my towel.”

  “No!” everyone shouts.

  “Creed,” I say in greeting, “Anna. What’s up?”

  “Just calling to say hi,” Anna says.

  “Uh, okay. Hi.”

  “Link us up with them,” Corey tells me, and now I know something’s up. I connect the calls so everyone can see everyone else.

  “What did you do?” I ask Corey.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he says. The big fat liar.

  I glare at each of them in turn.

  “Is he wearing pants yet?” Creed asks, peeking through his fingers.

  “No,” Anna tells him. “And I think he’s pierced.”

  “Really?” Creed asks. “I almost want to see.”

  “I can show you,” Rob offers. “It’s a Prince Albert.”

  “This is what my life has come to?” Creed asks. “Asking to see penis on the Internet? My God. How is JJ going to survive knowing his father is a cock hound? I’m going to be just like Bear and Otter.”

  My computer beeps again. “Speaking of,” I mutter. “What did you all do?”

  They all smile at me. My heart sinks.

  Bear and Otter appear on the screen. I sigh and connect them with the rest. “Kid,” Bear says, “I just realized I haven’t seen this… uh. Tyson?”

  “Yes, Bear?”

  “Why is there a naked man standing next to you?”

  “Prince Albert,” Anna says.

  “I might be gay now,” Creed sighs.

  “Live sex show,” Sandy says.

  “Because this is the sort of thing that happens to me,” I tell Bear.

  “I wish I could find that hard to believe,” Otter says. “But I’ve lived with you both too long.”

  “This is going to be a train wreck,” Corey says. “Rob, if you value your life, you will run away as fast as you can.”

  “I’m not scared,” Rob says.

  “You will be,” Otter and I say at the same time, trying to sound like Yoda. Instead, we both sound like we’re receiving our first enemas.

  “Goddamn Star Wars,” Bear mutters. “Those movies have ruined the both of you.”

  “You shut your mouth,” Otter says with a frown.

  “As fun as this is,” I tell them all, “and really, so fun, but why are you all bugging me? I have finals to study for.” Not that I need to do much studying. I’m like Stella. I got my groove back. For the most part. And that might be the gayest thing I’ve ever said aside from the time I complimented Dom on his penis. Yikes.

  “Just… wanted to see what you’re doing,” Bear says, averting his eyes. “About stuff. And things.”

  Otter sighs. “You can never be subtle about surprises, can you?”

  “I am the absolute definition of subtle,” Bear says, somehow managing to maintain a straight face even with all the bullshit he just spewed. Subtlety and Bear Thompson do not go together.

  “I need to buy you a dictionary for Christmas because I’m not sure you know what that word means.” Otter winks at me.

  “Are you mocking me?” Bear asks, sounding appropriately outraged.

  “I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

  “I’m going to kick you in the—”

  “No domestic violence,” I say, interrupting Bear before thirty minutes have passed with him starting to threaten Otter but somehow ending up discussing the merits of grated cheese. You know as well as I do that it wouldn’t be that hard for him to get there. “What surprise is Bear supposed to be hiding?”

  “Me,” a voice says from behind me, and I close my eyes. My heart quakes and I have to remember how to breathe. Because I’ve learned again. I really have. It’s taken four months… and maybe I didn’t need to do it. That’s the kicker. Maybe I didn’t need to leave at all. Maybe I could have found a way to stand on my own surrounded by those I love. It would have been possible and it sure as shit would have saved a whole hell of a lot of heartache.

  You guys are probably going to be pissed at me, I had told them. Bear and Otter. Dom. The day we got back from the road trip. And you’re probably not going to want this to happen, but I think it has to. You all are everything to me. You always have been. But I need to make sure that I can do this on my own. I need to make sure that—Bear, I know. Just let me finish. Please.

  I’m going back to Dartmouth. Alone. I’m going to show you all what I can be. I’m going to show you all what I’m truly capable of. I’m going to make something of myself because I want you all to be proud of me. I know that you already are, but I want to make sure I’m deserving of it. You’ve done so much for me. All of you. It’s time for me to do what I can for you. And that starts with myself.

  And so I did. I stepped out of the shadows of myself. Has it been perfect? Of course not. Seeing those you love on a monitor rather than in person sucks. I’d turn to tell Bear something and he wasn’t there. Just empty air, and by the time I did talk to him, days later and pixelated, I was just so relieved to see him that any other thoughts I had would be forgotten.

  Bear, I know this is going to be hard for you. It’s going to be hard on me. Out of everyone, it’s been you who has been there for me. Every day. The good ones and the bad ones. And the ones where we didn’t think we were going to make it. But we did. Somehow we did.

  Then there’d be some old sci-fi movie on TV as I flipped through the channels and I’d find myself about to call out to Otter, to tell him to come watch it with me so we could make fun of the special effects, the overacting, but each seriously digging the vibe of black-and-white post-Cold War paranoia in the form of giant spiders attacking New York.

  Otter, you’ve done more for us than anyone. You protected us. You sheltered us. You held us together when everything else threatened to break us. I don’t know if we would have made it without you. Or, if we had, if we would have ever known happiness like we do now. We are who we are because of you. No amount of thanks could ever show how much that means to me.

  Then there was him. Always him. Every little thing I saw or did or heard reminded me of him. It was my first months in New Hampshire all ov
er again, when I was just a Kid harboring a bright and longing crush on a best friend who I knew would never be mine. Four years later, though, he was mine and that crush had long since evolved into something deeper. More mature. More wonderful. Dominic Miller was loved by me in a way that I’d never loved anyone before. But it wasn’t enough. He didn’t deserve just to be loved. He deserved to be cherished. And I wanted to be the one to cherish him.

  It hurt. Misguided? Probably. Selfish? Yeah. That too.

  Necessary?

  I think so.

  Dom, I—

  Bear. Otter. Can you give us a minute? He did nothing to disguise his anger.

  Bear had looked to protest, but Otter led him away.

  Dom argued with me then. In a way I’d never seen from him before. Fiercely. Bitterly. He told me I was running away again. That I was running and this time I wouldn’t come back. I probably wouldn’t even look back. I would leave them (him) all behind and I would forget about them (him). I probably never even really needed them (him). I understood his words were born of desperation, that they weren’t what he really thought, but they still hit me like a hammer to the chest. Dominic, my big, solid Dominic, was scared.

  As if I could ever truly doubt how he felt about me. As if I could ever think anything but the truth ever again.

  Dom, I said. It’s not going to be like that.

  It will.

  No. Not this time.

  How is this any different?

  Because I know now.

  What?

  That this is my home.

  It’s always been your home.

  Maybe, I said. But you are too.

  The anger left him as quickly as it had come. What was left was a defeated resolve.

  I can’t do this again, he said finally, and my heart stopped in my chest.

  What?

  Lose you. Not again. Not ever. It would kill me. His voice broke and I had to stop myself from collapsing. It almost did. I can’t let that happen again. I want you to go. Because it’s for you. It’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. And it’s not fair, I know, but I’m standing in front of you now, telling you that I want you to stay. Because that’s for me. I can’t lose you, Ty. I can’t.