Just Like Him

        Uneven brick sidewalks cracked under a rushing, frigid wind.  The downtown Boston row-houses groaned and yawned against each other while the homeless congregated around seldom emptied trash cans.  Dank and corroded ivy sat heavy on the buildings.  If not for the bright chandelier light refracted through crystal framed doors, the neighborhood might have been mistaken for poor.
         
        John Wills walked up several granite stairs to one of these homes; he slid his right hand along a side railing that left flecks of black paint rubbed onto his skin.  He murmured to himself and went to wipe the debris on his clothes until he remembered he had dressed well for the party.  Standing on the doorstep, he began slapping his doughy hands together, and the speckles fell to a ground ready for the creeping snowstorm.  A steady sound rolled around the inside of the building, a think block of warmth punctuated by endearing laughs.  He knocked once, felt the snap of the cold, and quickly knocked again.  The chok-chok shuffling of high heels approached rapidly.
         “John!  Hello, come in, come in!”
         “Melissa, so nice to see you.  You look stunning,” he gushed as they hugged. 
         “Is that a fact?  I just bought this dress recently.”  She performed a balletic sweep of her right leg, parading herself in a deliberate semi-circle; John looked on and laughed. 
         “I can’t tell you how happy I am this worked out.  How long are you staying in Boston for?” she stated. 
         “Only two more days and then it’s back to Seattle.  How’s Rob doing, where is he?”
         “Oh, he’s somewhere around here…doing something highly embarrassing which I’ll probably have to apologize for later.  Get in here, grab a drink already.”
         
        John followed her as she halted and pushed past guests.  He had known Melissa from his college days.  She had been an unapologetic partner in late night partying and the invariable panic before a test the next day.  They had never been an item, but he always thought they were so close that they didn’t need to be.
The living room was densely populated.  The partiers stood at polite, jovial attention, forming small groups in which they discussed geo-political climates and the fine antique mirrors hanging around the room.  Hot breaths of liquor glided upwards into an electric, unavoidable mist of perfumes and colognes.
         
        “How’s,” she asked before realizing her words were made inaudible by the din.  John held up one finger to indicate they should wait until they could find a clearing.  They went up to a table where guests hovered around the liquor; Melissa greeted them and checked if they were having a good time as she simultaneously shooed them away to make space.
         “Finally,” she exclaimed.
         “I’m going to pour you a drink. No arguments, you have to drink it.”
         He smiled.  “Thank you, M.  Are you trying to take advantage of me?” 
         “Uh oh, we’ve got a bad boy.  How’s the practice going?  Lots of big bucks rolling in, I assume?”
         “Yeah, things are going pretty well.  I made partner a year and a half ago,” he said. 
         “I knew you would, good job,” she said with kind assuredness. 
         An incredulous, “No way-y,” came from a different part of the room.
         “I think I hear Rob running off his mouth; let’s go find him.” 
         
        John thought about the Seattle firm and its ample perks.  He didn’t really know if it was ultimately the right decision, and he doubted he would find a satisfying closure to the question.  But things weren’t too bad; he was appreciative when he didn’t think about it.  He caught up to Melissa who had shimmied forward to where two men stood, one facing her and the other picking up a dropped hors d’oeuvre.
         “Rob, this is John, I’ve told you about him.”
         “How are ya doing, John boy.  Glad you could make it.  Like our little cozy place?” he asked.
         
        He was about to answer with a cordial nicety when the other man stood up.  John’s face gushed with urgent blood, and his breath slammed into his stomach.  The man he saw looked just like him, exactly so: same height, hair, build, hands, eyes, everything was as he was.  John’s lower jaw slackened, and the drink in his hand wavered; the new man’s entire brow collapsed unto alarmed eyes.
         “Who…who are you?” John asked. 
         “I’m Matthew Volmer, this is not right, I don’t understand.  Who the hell are you?”
         “John Wills.  Melissa, are you seeing this?” he gesticulated without regard for propriety, “tell me you’re seeing this.”
         “What am I supposed to be seeing here?” she wondered and looked to Rob.
         “Is there something I’m missing?” Rob asked Matthew.
         “We look the same!  We are identical twins, we have to be.  Do you know your blood type?  Twins have the same blood type,” Matthew said to John as they both took out their wallets.
“I’m AB,” huffed John as he examined his American Red Cross card.
         “Are you sure?  Are you absolutely sure, John?” Matthew said warily. 
         “Yes, I’m sure, that’s what it says.  I always use donating as an excuse to get out of work.  I’m always AB positive. What’s your card say?”
         “I’m O negative,” Matthew stuttered out.
         “Well how do you know yours is right?” John retorted.
         “Because I donated tons of times to impress-it doesn’t matter, I’m O negative.”
         
        They stood surveying the man before them with less than friendly glances.  Their eyes set against each other.
         “I don’t see what the big deal is, you two don’t even look that much alike,” Melissa commented with undertones of boredom.
         Shrill guffaws escaped from both men.
         “Rob, you have to agree with us,” Matthew demanded.
         “Huh?” He had been sipping his drink.  “Yeah, sure, spitting image of each other.  I saw Melissa’s twin last week at the zoo.”  She didn’t find it particularly funny. 
         “Neither of you are taking this seriously,” John complained.
         “John, I have to attend to the guests now, but I’m sure we’ll catch up more in a bit,” Melissa stated and melded into the mix of silks and suits as she became a bouncing head.
         “And I definitely need more to drink,” Rob insisted.  “You fellas have a good time,” he said and left.
         “How could they say we aren’t exactly alike?”
         “They’re out of their minds,” Matthew muttered.
         “So why are you here, who do you know?” John asked.
         “I’ve been best friends with Rob since middle school, he invited me.  We even almost went into business together in New York City.”
         “Business doing what?”
         “Working with hospitals, but I decided on pharmacology instead.”
         “Really?  You know I thought for a while about a medically-based career…just couldn’t pull the trigger.”
         “I see, and what did you decide on?” Matthew asked.
         “I’m an attorney out in Seattle.  Recently made partner.” 
         “Congratulations, I love those Law & Order type shows and legal movies.  A Few Good Men? Great movie.”
         “Ha, well,” John bowed slightly, “it’s not quite as glamorous or action-packed, but I guess it can be pretty hairy at times.”
         “I, uhm, I hope I didn’t come off as being abrasive or anything.  It’s just, I mean, look at you.  Look at us!” Matthew huffed with a wry smile.
         “Believe me, this is flat-out crazy.  Are we right, though?”
         “Let’s go over to that mirror.  Wait, I’ll refill our drinks first,” Matthew said and went back to the liquor. 
         
        John wiped his sweaty hands off on the inside lining of his pockets.  “We even walk the same,” he said to himself.  Matthew had come back. 
         “Alright now we’re ready to go,” Matthew said. 
         
        They walked together in single file between the other partiers.  It seemed that the bystanders should have been staring, but the crowd gave them a cursory scan, noted nothing peculiar, and continued winking in the shadows.  Upon reaching the mirror, the two men stood shoulder to shoulder in front of it, each slightly rocking on his heels.
         “There’s no denying it,” John breathed out. 
         “It’s true.” 
         
        Medium-sized freckles sat under their eyelids, and the skin around their cheeks was vibrant but rough.  Happenstance hair fell on their prominent foreheads while their blue eyes sank into gray but returned to blue again as the light shimmered from the chandeliers.  They had full, unimposing lips, but they were shaded by neglected two o’clock shadows.
         “How did you get that scar under your chin?  I have one too,” John asked. 
         “I fell off of a scooter on a playground, had to get a few stitches.  And yours?” 
         “I was horsing around and split it open on a hardwood floor.  You think the wounds would have healed by now…”
         They both laughed. 
         “It’s just so…so,” Matthew started at the mirror.  “Well, anyway, do you have a spouse?”  Matthew wondered. 
         “Currently on my second marriage, my first wife upped and left one day.  Never found out why, but I got over it and moved on.  I think I’m happy now,” John said. 
         He brought his drink to his mouth but didn’t take a sip.
         “I’m sorry to hear.  I’ve been with my wife since we were sixteen.  We met in our high school cafeteria, of all things.  She’s been the only thing I’ve known, but, you know, I never wanted to, it doesn’t make sense to lose what you have if, you know,” Matthew trailed off.
         “Sounds like you’ve been very lucky, congratulations,” John said.   
         “Cheers to bliss,” Matthew said, and they drank an understood, understated toast.
         
        Several hours passed, the culmination of which resulted in John and Matthew struggling to sit still on a sofa; they were not entirely sober.
         “Wait-wai-wai-wait, you played baseballed?” Matthew asked.
         “Uh huh, I was an extremely and very good.  I had a change, uhm, change up that just goes ‘poof!’ and their batters were so out.” John blinked his hand to demonstrate its poofing ability. 
         “No, no, no, I was a,” Matthew stood up and flourished his arm, the entire movement bringing him back down onto the sofa, “an actor.  I could sung and dance and do shows and tons of things, I could have sung more.”  He tried to sing but his throat was swollen from alcohol, creating a wheezing gargle that turned him red.
         “You are a crazy,” John laughed.
         
        They heard a loud noise and rose to see where it was coming from.  Rob had his arm leaning up on a wall, forming a half corner with two women.  He pawed at them, fawned at them, and stepped on their shoes.  One of the brunettes said something and smiled, causing Rob to snort and shout in delight.  Melissa had begun to look over his way.
         “Some people don’t know, you know, when to quit,” John said with a sigh.   
         “Absolutely, you are absolute,” Matthew agreed and licked his teeth with a hissing alacrity.  “Hey look!”  Matthew had sauntered to a frosted window and huffed all over it; John followed him. 
         “See, see,” Matthew said as he rolled his finger on the glass, constructing the fans for a massive Dutch windmill sunken in the middle of four hills.  “I was a painting actor that painted, too.” 
         
        John drew his finger along the frosted white glass, drawing the outline of a big eyed smiling creature.  With a few wedges he made the fur and clownish shoes. 
         “John…Matthew,” cried Melissa in a plaintive exasperation, “don’t do that to the windows, it leaves marks.”
         “We sorry,” John said while Matthew took his shirt cuff and wiped the window clean.  She shook her head and went off to put out another fire. 
         “I think my opinion is that we should go to a bar-r.  Somewhere where we would want to be wanted.  How bout it?” asked Matthew.
         
        The party was no longer thriving, and guests were thinking of ways they could excuse themselves without being rude.  John forcibly moved strangers aside and braced himself when he pulled up to Melissa.
         “I have to go, but seeing you was, uhm, top drawer,” and he gave her a hug and thumbs up.  Her body tightened but she at least smiled.
         “Don’t be a stranger, John.  I expect to hear from you very soon, ok dear?  Matthew- a pleasure.”
         He waved, and they walked to grab their coats.
         
        The snow drifts had accumulated into sizable humps that shined with a pale, titanium sheen.  John and Matthew kicked a path through the un-shoveled sidewalks, pressing their feet into the snow as it crunched and gave way to the soundless ice beneath it.  Their cheeks reddened and stiffened in the cold.  They walked alongside one another, two silhouettes with ragged edges illuminated by the despondent orange street lights.  An occasional chuckle escaped from one of them; a cluster of drooping, happy, and melancholic bars was now in sight.  John took Matthew’s shoulder as they entered an intersection at Commonwealth Avenue.  The brash chirping of the crosswalk signs drowned out the rubbery slide of a sedan that crushed both of them.  Their bodies were thrown far and slid until they came to rest on mounds of browned snow.  All around, people rushed to the contorted and motionless figures, but the owner of the car which had hit them was the first one there.  His face was welling up into tears as he ran up to the bleeding, dying men.  But he could only offer a complete sense of terror since they looked just like him.