The Ever Breath Read Online Free PDF Page B

laden with food—beautiful savory juicy sweet food! They’d barely made a dent, but she was right. Truman was full. He couldn’t eat another bite. He was thirsty, though. He emptied teacup after teacup—orangey bitters, strong berry flavors, various mint mixes—and Camille did too. It was as if they were overcome with thirst.
    When they put down the last cups, the story was swirling inside of them. There were two worlds. The Fixed World—this house with its boarded-up windows and everywhere they knew—and the Breath World.
    Swelda started to pack the food up into little containers as if it had been an ordinary meal in an ordinary house. “Your bedroom is upstairs at the end of the hall,” she said. “It’s your father’s old bedroom, where he slept as a boy.” Swelda seemed a little embarrassed for a moment. Then she quickly added, “And there’s a gift sitting on each of the pillows.”
    Soap?
Truman thought, remembering the gifts she’d sent to them for years.
Crackers, ChapStick?
Was this even thesame woman whom he’d known only by her horrible gifts? Everything seemed different now.
    Swelda came to them and gently cupped each of their faces with her small hands for a moment. She smiled, her lower jaw more prominent than before. Her face was so close that they could see the fine wrinkles around her eyes, the delicate folds of skin on her neck. “You are Cragmeals,” she said. “From the long line.”
    “The long line?” Truman said.
    “I knew you’d show up here, in this house, one day.” Swelda’s one eye twinkled, wet with tears. And then she let go of their faces. She tapped her plastic cup, which blocked one of her eyes, with one nail—
tick, tick, tick
. “I’ve seen it all coming!”
    “Seen what coming?” Camille asked.
    Swelda didn’t answer. She heaved a sigh as she shuffled, as if tired now, to the sink and leaned against it, her back to them. Then she looked at them briefly over her shoulder.
    “Keep your eyes on those gifts,” she said. “Keep your eyes on them!”
    Truman turned to Camille. Were they supposed to go to their bedrooms now? They looked at Swelda’s narrow back. The parrot, Grossbeak, flew around the kitchen and then perched on her shoulder. They could see his eye, and the flared plumage on his head, which was cocked to one side.
    “Bye-bye,” the parrot squawked. “Bye-bye, knucklehead!”
    “Who, me?” Truman whispered.
    “Well, I’m not a knucklehead, so he’s not talking to me!” Camille said.
    “Bye-bye,” Truman said to the parrot softly. He wanted to add
knucklehead
, but he didn’t.

CHAPTER SIX
The Gifts
    The wallpaper running up the walls of the staircase had water stains that took on strange shapes in the low light. As Truman followed Camille, he thought he saw a face in the water stains and then a dog. Not just any dog. This water stain looked like a Chinese fighting dog with lots of wrinkles and a smushed face. He stopped and touched the water stain with one hand. This close, he could see that it also seemed to have wings and horns and fangs, as if it were a dog-sized dragon. “The Breath World.” He whispered the words and wondered if this was the kind of magical creature that would live there.
    “Are you feeling the wallpaper?” Camille said from the doorway at the end of the hall.
    “Of course not,” Truman said.
    She disappeared into the bedroom and Truman followed her. The room was spare, with two twin beds covered with nubby white blankets. Two brass sconces attached to the walls were glowing dimly. In one corner was a wingback arm-chair and in the other corner were a small desk and a chair.
    “This is it, I guess,” Camille said. She looked a littledisappointed. Truman was too. He’d been hoping that the room would have more of their father’s childhood left in it.
    The bright spot, though, was that there were two gifts, just as Swelda had said. On each of the pillows was a plain white box.
    “Our gifts,” Truman said.