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It was Als birthday. That gave him an air of importance as he made his way south down Virginia Avenue from the Hugh J Grant Circle. It wasnt just any birthday, either. Joy had told him that. He was sixty. Sixty was a big number. It was an important age. An age when a man should do important things. Hed been through several important ages: Harvard, Mexico, Brazil. Twenty had been real important, but he couldnt remember much about twenty. That was like another life. Forty had been important too. That was when hed started to go wrong.

The sun slipped behind the trees and the rooftops, casting long winter shadows across the road. The temperature dropped and Al shuddered. It was getting dark and he wanted to be home. He wanted to be safe.

Dr. Epstein and Joy had been nice to him. They were always nice to him. Theyd made him feel special. Theyd given him a cake and laughed with him. That had made him shy, but it had also made him stay too late, because he didnt want to leave. Now the darkness was closing in, and he did not like to be out in the street when the darkness closed in.

He hurried with big, jerky strides, holding his birthday card with his hand in his pocket, gulping breath through his mouth, because when he hurried, he couldnt breathe through his nose. He hurried past Newbold Avenue and tried not to look up at the towering apartment blocks on his left. They always made him feel like they were looming over him, like angry judges watching him. Joy and Dr. Epstein had told him it wasnt true, that apartment blocks could not watch you or judge you, but he knew, inside, that they could. So he kept going, with heavy, hurrying steps, gulping air through his mouth, even when he heard the shout. When he heard the shout, he ignored it and just kept on going.

Hey! Freak! Weird ass! Im talkin to you!

Al didnt look. He didnt need to look. He knew who it was. He quickened his lumbering pace. He felt a strong hand grip his heart, making it harder to breathe. He became conscious of the wheezing and gasping in his throat. He also became conscious of the running feet behind him: not sprinting, not a charge, just running to catch up. Instinct made him hunch his shoulders. He could see the green shop front of the upholstery store on the corner with Ellis Avenue. He was almost home.

Hey! Freak! Im talkin to you, bro!

The voice was much closer now, right behind him, and he could hear laughter across the road, high pitched, screeching laughter, as though they were all being strangled by invisible wires. It was what they deserved. The thought brought on a sudden rush of fury, but he knew better than to confront them. He kept lumbering forward, tried to control the croaking in his throat, kept his eyes on the darkening blacktop in front of him.

A voice, at his elbow now. Hey, man, why you make that noise when you walk? More laughter from across the road. Now the speaker was smiling, too. What is that? You sick or something? Or you just singing yoself a song while you walkin along?

The laughter was now like shrieks. Al prayed silently that they should become real shrieks of pain. He had reached the upholstery store and started across the road toward it. A hand plucked at his shoulder. Hey! Im talkin to you! You dont disrespect me, you motherfockin piece a shit!

Al broke into a stumbling run, grunting as he went. He heard his own voice saying, No! No

The door of the upholstery shop opened. A small group of men and women emerged, talking. Two men and a woman stood at the door of the deli next door, going in. He almost collided with them. One of them half-shouted, Whoa! Look where youre going, pal!

He ignored them, hurrying on, listening. The voice came again, more distant now. Wait up, freak! I wanna talk to you!

He kept going. His heart was pounding in his chest. His breathing was loud, like the roar of giant waves. He passed the apartment block, the gated alley behind it. He lumbered on, passed 1929, passed the house next door with its pretty wrought iron porch, and then he was at the gate of his own house.

Now he could hear feet, lots of them, running in earnest. His hands were shaking badly and he fumbled with the latch of the gate. His gasping breath turned to a whimper. He pushed through the gate and stumped up the four steps to his door. His whimpering turned to sobbing as his fingers, large and clumsy like sausages, struggled with his keys. Behind him, feet skidded to a halt: four, five, six pairs. He dare not look.

Hey! Freak! Im fuckin talkin to you! We got questions for you!

The key slipped in. Behind him, the gate clanked open. He pushed in, wrenched the key from the lock and slammed the door. But it did not close. Instead, there was a terrible scream of pain. He wrenched the door open and slammed it again, putting his full three hundred and ninety pounds behind it. Another scream, and again he pulled it open and slammed it. This time, it closed and locked.

He backed away, sobbing violently. Outside, he could hear screeching, shouts, furious voices, judgment, hatred: a great tidal wave of hatred washing over his house, and him. He turned and stumbled into his small kitchen area. There he grabbed for the phone and called Dr. Epstein. Joy answered and he cried out, an inarticulate noise of relief and love, and grief and fear.

Al? Is that you, baby?

He tried to say it was, but a primal grief deep in his gut would not let him shape the words out of the awful noises in his mouth.

What in the world is wrong with you? Now you take a moment and breathethats right, you just take one good, big old breath and relax. Good, and another Now first off, you tell me right now if you are OK.

His breath shook, but the tightness in his chest eased. Yes

So what has you so upset?

They were waiting for me.

Who were, honey? You sure it wasnt somebody you imagined?

No. His voice was clear, educated, articulate, strangely at odds with his huge, graceless body. No, it was that boy, and his gang. They wait for me. They call me a freak. He says he is going to cut me. And they make dark waves that come at me from the street.

Now, honey

I am not hallucinating. You cant see it. But it comes when they close in on me. It overwhelms the house. I dont know how they do it, but they do.

Are they still there?