Inside man, outside man

Johnnie Walker, the one with the blue label, that was his drink. The taste was adequate, but it was the burn that he craved. That sweet, smokey flow that scorched his insides. Each sip igniting life into his dormant corpse with its toasty embrace. He preferred it neat, as to assure that burn would not be diminished or diluted in any way.

Hypnotized by the glow of the crackling logs in the fireplace, he swirled his amber potion around in its glass. Relaxed to the max by rolling the sleeves of his button-up halfway on his forearms but neglecting to address the imprisonment of the shirt in his trousers. Every other minute he adjusted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other to avoid being devoured by the enabling couch.

Tingling and vibrating, his foggy brain couldn't recall if this was his third of fourth remedy of the evening. Ultimately it was inconsequential as most nights the bottle decided when he had had enough. Using his body as a vessel to pour itself; though, he didn't mind, he rather enjoyed the company.

The expensive flat-screen television hovering above the alluring flames had lulled into its idle existence. The living room was filled with these hollow objects of decor; that combined together to give the illusion of luxury. The entire house was dressed up as though it were staged for a walkthrough in the morning.

While the man inside worked on tomorrow's headache, a storm roared outside. Gusting turbulence smashed into the house, putting the strength of its foundation to the test. Plump raindrops walloped down as if mother nature herself had declared war against the roof. Jaw-clattering thunder initiated the onslaught of plummeting golf balls. It was the kind of weather that made insurance agents weep.

With the act of god raging beyond his walls, the inside man was still. He no longer resisted the seductive leather cushions. Burrowing deeper and deeper, he might have faded right to sleep if it weren't for the knock. Three knocks to be exact.

In his buzzed state of mind it took a second to register. While questioning his sanity, it happened again, only this time they had progressed to poundings. The inside man acknowledged the Rolex on his left wrist. Startled by the time, he sprung to his feet as if he were running late for an important meeting. Scurrying to the door, he denied his jumbled shirt's escape attempt by cramming it back under his belt with one hand; while clinging to his beloved drink with the other.

The rounded eyehole on the front door revealed a man in an over coat on the other side. This outside man presented his back towards the door while concealing his hands in his pockets. The storm had certainly gotten the best of him, but he was hard to read outside of that.

His face wasn't visible until the massive burgundy stained barrier was fully hinged open. The slippery black mop drooping from his head blended with the ominous night sky. Exposure to the elements had caused his clothes to bleed out their vibrance, leaving behind only washed out traces of their true colors. The inside man had never met this soaked stranger leaking on his front porch, but something about his face seemed oddly familiar.

"I won't be long. I- Just . . . " Fumbling over his words; the outside man's shoulders trembled from his tussle with the whirling storm.

"C'mon inside. Got a good fire going and we'll get you dried off." Pivoting in the doorway, the inside man introduced himself and offered up his home.

Graciously thanking him and returning his own introduction, the outside man squished his way inside.

"I'll grab you a couple towels."-sealing the door behind his guest-"A little bit of whiskey always warms me up. Would you like a glass?"

"I appreciate that, but I'm actually 4 years sober." The outside man said while sliding off the loaded sponges with laces from his feet.

"Oh- Of course." He tried to smooth over his reaction to sound normal, but he never understood how someone could chose not to enjoy a good spirit. The idea of sobriety sounded more like a prison sentence to him. "Be right back with those towels."

The man from outside lingered by the front door as if he were a child sent to timeout. Even when the inside man returned with fresh towels, he took very calculated steps on the magnificent marble floors as not to make a slippery mess.

"This house was built 3 years ago. I don't think a drop has ever touched these floors. I'm sure they can handle a little water." He spoke to his guest while reloading his neglected glass. "Can I offer you anything else to drink? Soda? Water?"

"I'm good. I really shouldn't be long. Thanks, though."

Taking the outside man's took advice, he wandered freely. His soppy socks stamping a trail of footprints as he went.

"This is quite the place you have here. Just incredible." He said while sloshing along in the enormous living room.

The burn from his latest gulp caused him to wince before responding: "Yeah. Decorator picked most of the stuff out. I just sleep here."

"You must do something pretty important to afford a house like this." The outside man looked towards the vaulted ceiling like he was gazing at the stars.

"Nothing interesting. I'm pretty much just a glorified accountant." The glass in his hand was now apart of him.

"How much do you make?" His eyes narrowed as they scrolled down but his head remained tilted towards the ceiling.

The inside man jolted upright as his eyebrows scrunched together; the question caught him off guard. "I-"

"I'm just messing with you. Nice place, though." The outside man grinned as he turned his attention back towards examining the home.

"What about you? what do you do?" Still a little weirded out by the stranger's question, he figured best to change the subject.

"Jerry's Tires." Turning his back while answering to show his enthusiasm for the topic. The inside man could take a hint.

There were very little words said for a minute or two. One of them polished off another glass of top shelf liquor; while the other browsed around with a purpose, looking for something. Eventually the outside man spotted a family portrait hanging on the wall.

"Wow." He twisted back to his host. "What a beautiful family."

Nodding back at the compliment as the bottle was preparing to pour another dose of itself.

"Loving parents and- is this your sister?" The outside man asked.

"Yup. That's Rebecca." He didn't like where this conversation was going. "You have any siblings?"

"Nope. Just had myself."

The outside man's pocket interrupted with a vibrate and he flipped his phone out. Glancing at it for a second he said: "Wife is on the way. She'll be here soon."

"That's great. Awfully brave of her to be out in this storm. She must care for you a lot." He said while singeing his throat once more.

"Yeah. She's my everything." The outside man said while fidgeting with his wedding ring, in a daze.

"You ever get married?" He asked, snapping himself back to reality.

"Nah, no wife." He sighed. "I had the girl. Just screwed it up." Swirling his drink in the glass, it was clear he was thinking of a specific memory.

"You know... you don't have to go. You could stay a little while longer." Said the inside man, still hypnotized by the spinning liquid.

His request was met with silence. For a second the outside man just glared at him, annoyed.

"What agency were you with?" He finally blurted.

"I was in Springfield." Said the inside man.

"How long?" His follow up question had edges it was so sharp. His leg began to jitter with a temper.

"14 months." He answered looking away, ashamed.

"Hmm. That's nice. I was in Lowell, for 11 years before I got my big break." His tone was rising as he began pacing back and forth.

"Well it looks like you did pretty well for yourself-"

"Oh, looks like it, huh?!" He snapped at the inside man. "Clearly not as great as you! I mean, look at this place. Huge home, lots of expensive stuff." Spite oozed out of every word.

"It's just a house."

"Or the loving parents? A sister? Bet you two are close huh?"

"Alright, that's enough!" The inside man shot back. "What do you want me to say? I didn't choose any-"

"You think I chose mine?" Scoffing at his own question. "But, hey. I guess that's just how it goes. One of us won the lottery and the other won the gutter sweepstakes, complete with cigarette burns and washroom lock-ins!"

"I can't begin to understand what you've been through. But, I'm here and I'm trying."

"I don't want your pity." Barked the outside man.

The inside man put his glass down for the first time all night. He scratched the top of his wrist as he spoke: "Don't play this game with me. You come into my home and see one photo I have in my living room and you think you've got me figured out? You don't have the slightest clue about who I am or what my life's been like."

The outside man was glued to the inside man scratching his wrist. His tempter had faded.

"You're anxious right now, aren't you?" He asked the inside man.

"Yeah. So what?"

"You're scratching your wrist. I- I do that when I'm anxious too."

The inside man looked down and smiled.

"I've always done that." Confessed the inside man.

"Me too." Replied the outside man.

For the first time in either of their lives, the two brothers weren't so alone.