The picture came on. Instead of sitting with her ankles crossed, she leaned back on her elbows next to her brother, who sprawled in a similar position. He shimmied his shoulders along with the intro music, and so did she; he called out his favorite songs, and so did she. Before her transition and his injury, she often felt that their relationship was fraught. Filled with testosterone. Now it was a refuge, simple and tender.  “I love James Brown,” her brother said again as a dance sequence began.  “I do, too,” she said. “What kind of pizza should we order?” she asked a few minutes later, reading from a menu. “They have pepperoni, sausage, vegetarian — I like vegetarian.”  “You do?” He pretended to be horrified, pointing at the door. “Get out of here.”  “They have supreme. Hey, remember how we used to eat that? When we were little? Pizza Supreme from Pizza Hut.”  She picked up the phone to place the order — “Not a ‘sir’ — I’m a woman,” she said to the worker — and the movie finished, and Sara’s brother remembered an old tradition from their experiences in the service.  “I forgot to inspect you,” he said, beckoning her to stand.  “No!” Sara said, covering her face in embarrassment.  “Do you want me to make you do push-ups?”  “Oh, I can’t do push-ups anymore.”  “Weren’t you in the Army?”  He waited, a demanding younger brother, until she sighed and slid to her feet. “Ready, salute!” he said. She raised her right hand toward her forehead, holding the pose for a second before collapsing in giggles. “Ready, salute!” he tried again, but she shook her head, laughing too hard to continue.  He laughed, and Sara remembered the birthday card she’d bought with the DVD. Her brother admired it before placing it on his bedside table.  “Do you want me to read it to you?” Sara asked. He nodded and passed the card back. “It says, ‘Happy Birthday,’ ” Sara read. “Love, your sister Sara.”  “That’s nice,” he said. “That’s good.”  “Come here and give me another hug,” she said when it was time to leave. They held each other tightly. Sara smoothed down her hair. She adjusted her skirt. She gave herself one last look in the mirror, to make sure her face was on right. She walked back past the veterans in the hall, into the late night, for the drive back home.  Lenny Bernstein contributed to this report.
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