The Next Door Boys by Jolene B. Perry

fine. I'm used to it, especially around here.” Brian's hands went back in his pockets.
    We started walking again, following Nathan's path.
    “How did you meet my brother?” I knew they'd met on Jaron's mission, but I didn't know the particulars.
    “It's was a hundred out, and he and his partner were walking down the sidewalk in black suits. I was out running. I laughed and asked if they were going to pass out from the heat.”
    “And I'd guess Jaron shrugged.”
    “Yep.” Brian chuckled. “In that relaxed way that only Jaron can. He stopped, and we chatted and set up a time to meet.”
    “Wow, just like that.” What an amazing experience for both of them.
    “Just like that.”
    I felt bad for judging Brian so harshly. I could see why Jaron looked up to him so much.
    “Ready to go?” Jaron snuck up behind me, grabbing my sides.
    “Jaron!” I jumped and whirled around. “Really? Are we not past that yet?”
    “Not as long as you keep reacting so well.” He mock-punched my shoulder.
    Guess it should be a good thing that we got along so well. Though, I might have to find a way to get him back.

fourteen
     
    I woke up Thanksgiving morning in the same room I'd spent my senior year of high school in. The same room where I'd spent so much time sick. I looked around at the walls and smelled antiseptic. It wasn't there, but the memory was strong. I felt like I might throw up.
    The force of last year's Thanksgiving hit me hard. That had been the worst of it for me. It was the first time I'd actually felt scared about losing my life. The initial diagnosis and surgery was so unexpected that I hadn't had time to process what I faced. When my hair started falling out after only my second chemo session, I'd shaved my head to get it over with. That's when the realization of what I was going through hit me; when I stared at my bald head in the mirror. It was two days before Thanksgiving last year.
    I crawled out of bed, numb from the shock of the memories. I sat with my back against the bed and looked at my legs stretched out in front of me. My legs. I touched them. I touched my skin, my body. I was alive.
    Last year Joseph had been who knows where and not speaking to us. Jaron had still been on his mission. My parents were a wreck. Well, my mom had been a wreck; she tried to hide her tears but failed miserably. My dad sat quiet as always, but you could see it in his face. The lines had grown deeper weekly.
    I remembered sitting in this exact spot wondering if it would be my last Thanksgiving. It had been so scary. I could feel hot tears start to roll down my cheeks. I'd prayed for my family so hard that day. I'd prayed that it wouldn't be my last Thanksgiving, and it hadn't been. So many prayers had been answered. I pulled my knees to my chest. I could feel my body start to shake. I was thankful for the simple fact that I was there, with my family. Nobody mourned the loss of Leigh. The relief brought on another wave of tears.
    Jaron must have either heard me from the hallway or seen me through the crack in my door. He silently came in and sat next to me. He put his hands over mine and let me lie my head on his shoulder. He rested his head on mine.
    “You okay?” He whispered after a few minutes.
    I tried to find the words. “I sat here last year, and I didn't know if I'd be here this year.” He didn't say anything, but I heard him sniff once or twice. He pulled one hand from mine and wiped his face. “I prayed so hard that morning,” I said. “I remember the feel of the carpet on my legs, and it made me sad to think that I might not feel it anymore. And here I am and it's still scratching me.” I tried to laugh.
    “That was the day I knew I needed to come home.” He brought his other hand back to mine and squeezed them together.
    “I always thought it was more for Mom and Dad than me. You coming home, I mean.”
    “That's because you're always putting other people first, Leigh.”
    We sat there together for