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