BooksBarbecue
Back The Art of Breathing Save as PDF
Contents ( 42)
  1. The Art of Breathing
  2. Part One: How We Became Who We Are
  3. Prologue: Or, Where the Kid Hears the Word of the Day
  4. 1. Where Tyson Learns to Breathe
  5. 2. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
  6. 3. Where Tyson Graduates and Bear Freaks Out
  7. 4. Where Tyson Says Good-Bye
  8. 5. Where Tyson Gets the Mail
  9. Part Two: Coming Home
  10. 6. Where Tyson Comes Home
  11. 7. Where Tyson Gives a History Lesson
  12. 8. Where Tyson Attends the Most Awkward Party Ever
  13. 9. Where Tyson Plans Attends a Protest
  14. 10. Where Tyson Gets Arrested
  15. 11. Where Tyson Gets His Ass Handed to Him
  16. 12. Where Tyson Writes Bad Poetry and Gawks at Frat Boys
  17. 13. Where Tyson Decides to Man the Fuck Up
  18. 14. Where Tyson Asks Some Questions
  19. 15. Where Tyson Remembers Theresa Jean Paquinn
  20. 16. Where Tyson Learns the Benefit of Therapy
  21. 17. Where Tyson Meets the Man Who Becomes Helena Handbasket
  22. 18. Where Tyson Gets Screwed at His Own Birthday Party (And Not in a Good Way)
  23. Part Three: Just Breathe
  24. 19. Where Tyson Goes to Helena Handbasket’s Sex Dungeon
  25. 20. Where Tyson Beholds the Awesome Wonder That Is Paul Auster
  26. 21. Where Tyson Receives Advice from the Six Sages
  27. 22. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
  28. 23. Where Tyson Hears the Inevitable
  29. 24. Where Tyson Meets His Match
  30. 25. Where Tyson Says Hello, Where Tyson Says Good-bye
  31. 26. Where Tyson Touches upon the Inevitable
  32. 27. Where Tyson Faces the Music
  33. 28. Where Tyson Breathes
  34. 29. Tyson And Dominic
  35. 30. The Art Of Breathing
  36. Epilogue: Or, Bear’s Perspective, As It Were (Yeah, He’s Gonna Freak)
  37. Author’s Note
  38. Excerpt
  39. Prologue: Or, Where Bear Answers the Door
  40. More from TJ Klune
  41. Readers love the Bear, Otter, and the Kid Chronicles by TJ Klune
  42. By TJ Klune

“With me, okay?”

She nods, her hands digging into my back.

“In. Okay? Breathe in. Just breathe.”

She does.

“Good. Hold.”

She does.

“One,” I whisper to her. “Two. Three. Exhale.”

She does.

“Hold. One. Two. Three.”

She takes another breath, and it’s easier this time. “It’s a secret,” I tell her. “This art of breathing. It’s yours now. Keep it safe.”

“Don’t forget me, okay?” she asks, voice breaking. “Don’t forget me.”

My eyes burn. “Never. Never in your life.”

She nods against me. We stay that way. For a time. Eventually, it can go no further.

I set her down. And then she’s gone. I hear the door slam down the hall.

I’m still looking after her when I say, “Any harm comes to her, I’ll know. Anything happens to her, I’ll know. And I can promise you that you’ll never see her again.”

“I’ve never touched her,” my mother says, sounding horrified. “I would never do that!”

I turn back to her. “There’s more than one way to hurt a kid,” I say, my voice hard. “Abuse doesn’t have to be physical. You have a chance, here. A real chance.”

“It’s none of your business.”

I smile, but it takes all I have. “You’re wrong about that. Remember what I said. You can still make a difference. It’s too late for us. I know that now. But not for her. Remember that before she’s gone too. Good-bye, Julie.”

And I leave my mother there, standing in that kitchen: The smell of smoke untouched by the breeze from the window. The faded linoleum. The mug of Jack, ice cubes melted. I leave it all behind. The photos of faraway places along the wall. This place. I leave it all behind.

But not Izzie. Never Izzie.

I close the front door behind me.

I breathe in. Hold for three. Out. Hold for three. It works. It works. I know it works.

I take a step and the ground shakes beneath me. All my strength is leaving. I need to get out of here before it breaks.

But still I stop. When I reach the fence, I stop. One last look back.

My mother’s at the window. She watches me. Our eyes lock and there we stay. I don’t know how long. Eventually, she backs away slowly until I can’t see her anymore.

I turn to leave as I struggle to breathe.

It should be over.

What is this?

I’ve done what I came to do.

Why is the ground shaking?

Why can’t I breathe?

I need….

This is over. This should all be over.

I need—

“Fuck,” I croak as I bend over. “Ah, God. Ah shit.”

I need you, I think. I need you with me. I need you here. I need you so bad.

And then I think I must be magic, I must be so much magic, because big hands wrap themselves around me and pull me close. I hear a rumble that sounds like thunder from above, but I know that sound as it says my name. I know that broken voice.