John Brown's Brother
by Anthony David

The one letting all the warm air out and the cold air in, that's John Brown's brother.

"In or out, Junior."

"Sorry, Lou. Hey, Red."

Red shifts, hunched onto the bar beneath a mound of coat-like fabric, cusses under his breath. John Brown's brother, everyone calls him Junior, he stomps the saltwater slush from his work boots and hangs his coat on the empty rack, pats Red on the back on his way to the men's room.

"First things first."

Lou nods imperceptibly, then juts his chin at the window.

At first glance it's twilight outside, but don't let that fool you, the clock says two in the afternoon. Heavy snow diffuses the glow of a half dozen dim streetlights that eventually filter in through the tiny windows. They call this a white out, but it looks like more of a gray out, when the landscape goes the color of dead eyes, lifeless and indefinite.

What little light is getting through outlines a silhouette slowly rocking back and forth to keep warm.

"I guess he changed his mind, decided to wait outside."

"Picked up smokin' eh?"

Junior shakes his head.

"Huh."

This time of day, when the place is empty you can hear everything, every little noise down to the last drop before you zip up, the whole bar can hear you. Junior makes sure to run the water for a couple seconds, rips off a paper towel. The door springs shut behind him again.

"The usual?"

Junior nods, asks, "Where is he?"

Lou looks over to the last booth on the right. Best spot in the bar to fall asleep, furthest from the bathroom and the door, next to one of the better radiators, warm and quiet.

"He's been calmer this time around."

Junior bites his tongue at first, thinking, If you don't have anything good to say...

"Well, that's good to hear."

"I've seen worse. I've seen him worse, too."

Lou pushes the mug across the bar.

"We ought to call it John Brown's welcome to welfare cocktail."

Lou only knows how to deal with things by making jokes.

"I'm just saying, he's lost more jobs than-"

"He ain't lost the job. Not yet at least. He's been here, all hung over from last night I imagine, when he shoulda been at work."

Lou's eyes drop.

"I told Kepley he's sick, but you and I both know Kepley ain't that stupid."

"Well, they shut the plant down 'bout an hour and a half ago, the weather and all."

Junior cocks his head.

"I'm just saying, maybe tell Kepley that John just couldn't make the drive s'mornin' from this far west. Maybe the storm moved in that early."

"Well, Jimmy and Carl had no trouble gettin' in."

"Huh."

"Nice idea, anyway."

Junior brings the coffee over to his brother's booth, sets it on the table with more of a clack than necessary. The lump of John Brown stirs, sits up, mutters a cottonmouth hello.

"Drink up."

"Junior, how you been?"

"Good, Johnny."

"You know I think... I think... this stuff tastes like an old tire."

Silence.

"Come and get it. Tire juice. Hot and stinky." John Brown raises the mug, giggling at his own joke and smiling ear to ear, then the smile is gone. "Man, my face hurts."

"You look like Hell."

"Mm hm."

Junior pats his brother on the shoulder and walks back over to the bar, talks quietly to Lou.

"Would it kill you to kick him out once in a while?"

"He'd freeze."

"He'd learn."

A moment passes.

"Look, I thought he got canned again. Otherwise he just comes in for a cold one and heads home. You know that."

"Summabitch suckedown the lazt ... of the Maker's Mark!"

"Well, you're better off now, Red. That stuff makes you cranky."

"I'mot cranky you piece a piss. And you, don'touch me, nancy-boy."

Junior shakes his head, but Lou looks back to the figure in the window. They both move a little further down the bar, the illusion of privacy.

"So he's really pissed this time, huh?"

"What do you expect, Lou?"

Lou shrugs.

"So why do you care if he's pissed?"

"Hey, I got a business, here."

"Yeah, I know. And you know family comes first with dad."

"There ain't no blood between us, Junior."

"Don't give me that, you two ate from the same table, eighteen years."

"This place has been in my family more'n forty years."

Both their voices are passionless and flat, and they both concede. It's the same conversation as always, ever since Lou inherited the place, no need to rehash it all again. They both look over at John, nursing the coffee.

"I'm family, Uncle Lou, and I'm asking you to cut him off before he gets like this."

"None of the boys call me that anymore, you know that."

Junior puts his hand on Lou's shoulder.

"Lou."

"Well."

"Well, he's failed AA twice on your account."

"Well now."

"Well now what?"

"Nothin'."

"Look, I don't care what dad or Lucy or anyone else says, thinks or does, you're still my uncle. Our uncle. We always had the most fun with you, Lou."

"Well."

"Tellem you love him, nancy-boy!"

"Keep it up and I'll turn on the juke box."

"Don'bother me none."

Lou raises his voice and whacks the counter, "Oh really?" The sudden sound makes both Red and John bolt upright.

"Wellfur crissakes, alright."

The shop falls silent, except for the sound of John Brown sipping coffee, the occasional whoosh of a passing car. After two or three awkward minutes Junior breaks the silence.

"You about ready, Johnny?"

"Mm hm."

John tosses his keys toward Junior but he misses terribly and they bounce off Red's back.

"You piece a piss!"

"See you 'round Red. Lou."

Lou nods.

"I'll say hello to dad for you."

Lou nods as the door closes.