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back and closing his eyes wearily. Should he report these episodes? Were they even worth mentioning?
    A rap on the door startled him. “Aaron? Are you about ready?”
    â€œYeah, Mom. Be right out.”
    ****
    â€œSo, who’s all coming to this thing, Mom?” Aaron asked as he unloaded the groceries from the car.
    â€œOh, a few friends. You know most of them. The Bensons, the McAllisters, Todd and David, of course… a couple of others.”
    Aaron could tell she was hiding something, which could only mean one thing — Tricia.
    â€œMom… you didn’t—”
    â€œWell,” she replied with a sly smile. “I didn’t think it would hurt anything to invite some old friends.” Her clear green eyes did nothing to hide her mischievous intent, as they implored him to humor her just this once.
    Aaron sighed and shook his head. “You think you’re funny, I suppose,” he grunted as he lifted the last of the bags from the trunk and followed her into the house.
    â€œFunny? Oh no, Aaron… but I do think I’m pretty sneaky,” she teased as she began to unpack the bags and put things away. “Listen, you just be nice and sociable tonight. You’re leaving in a few days, and I won’t see you for a long time. The least you can do is humor me for a few hours. You never know what could happen!” She winked at him and handed him a jug of milk to put away.
    â€œOh, all right. I’ll be nice,” he conceded as he took the milk and turned to the fridge. Then he added, “But I won’t enjoy it.”
    Out of the corner of his eye he saw the hand coming and quickly dodged Cary’s playful swat, laughing. A fancy spin move put him in perfect position to pinch her from behind. His mom squealed, and he ran to avoid her retaliating swing, sporting a smug grin and a snort of laughter.
    â€œGet outta here!” She grabbed a wooden mixing spoon and chased him out of the kitchen. “Yeah, run, buddy! Hey, party starts at five, boys. Be ready,” she hollered after him.
    Back upstairs, Bobby met him in the hall. He was dressed for a workout in a gray Navy t-shirt and blue shorts. “Hey, wanna shoot some hoops, Bro?”
    â€œYou kidding me with that shirt? How did Dad even let that in the house?”
    Bobby laughed. “He was pretty ticked. You shoulda seen the shade of purple he turned — a personal record, I think. It was sick, dude! So, you in or what?”
    â€œWhat time is it?”
    â€œLike three, I think. We still have a couple hours. Come on, I’ll take it easy on ya.”
    â€œOh, yeah. ‘Cause I was so worried. Bring your A game, loser. You couldn’t beat me if I hopped on one leg and shot with my left hand.”
    Bobby snickered. “You mean your right hand, dillweed. You trying to pull an Inigo Montoya on me? I’m your brother. I already know you’re left-handed. Nice try though.”
    For just a moment, Aaron’s confusion betrayed him in the brief hesitation.
    â€œYou all right, dude?” Bobby laughed uneasily. “You’re acting like you have brain damage or something.”
    â€œVery funny. Okay, we’ll do it your way. I’ll play you right handed, then we’ll see who’s laughing. I’m gonna change. Meet ya in the driveway.”
    Bobby continued down the stairs, seemingly unaffected by the exchange. He had always been carefree and easily distracted by the prospect of playing a pickup game of anything.
    Aaron, on the other hand, was caught off guard. So, it hadn’t been a fluke after all. Before the accident he had been left-handed. The doctor had all but convinced him otherwise, that he just wasn’t remembering correctly because of the accident, he had some wires crossed or something. Aaron had been second-guessing himself on a lot of things since then, even though his military training had drilled the exact opposite into his