and the last bit for tonight .... Albert grew increasingly difficult to be around. His outbursts and run-ins were becoming notorious, and our circle of friends had become quite different. Like everyone else, I eventually found coping with Albert too much to do. I avoided him the rest of that summer and we hardly saw each other.
The last time I spoke to him was early in the fall of our senior year, when he surprised me by knocking at my front door just after dark.
“Can you come out, Paulie?” He shuffled nervously on the doorstep.
“Guess so,” I said, trying to ignore my father, who sat on the sofa, scowling over his newspaper. “What’s up?”
“Nuthin,” he shrugged, not bothered by my father’s glare. “I just, ya know, wanted to talk for a minute.”
“That I can do.”
“Don’t be late, Paul,” my father said curtly as I went out the door. He was not happy to see Albert there. None of the adults ever were.
“He won’t be,” Albert said quietly before I could respond. We both heard my father’s snort and the crisp snapping of his paper as the door closed.
“He always such a tight ass?” Albert’s mouth curled upward slightly, almost a smile.
“He’s OK,” I said, “you just bring out the best in him.”
“Yeah, I got a way about me.” We went all the way to the corner in silence.
“You see the game?” he finally asked, his shoulders shrugging as if he was searching for something to say.
“Baseball? Did they play?”
“Guess ya didn’t,” he said and dropped the subject. Albert remained silent and we kept walking. Each time I thought he was about to say something else, he hesitated.
I finally stopped walking for a moment. “You really bring me out here to talk about a baseball game?” He stood with his hands in his pockets and didn’t answer. “Look,” I told him, “it’s your nickel. But I … well, I just gotta get back soon or my old man is gonna expect long explanations.”
“Yeah, I know,” Albert said. Still, we went completely around the block without him saying another word.
Finally, as we passed near Albert’s house again I could hear Carl inside, shouting and cursing. His hoarse croaks were immediately followed by the crash of something hitting the wall.
“Oh, no, Albert!” I moaned, “Your Ma!”
“It’s OK,” he said, wincing. “He’s by himself.”
“Drunk?”
“Paulie, we been in the neighborhood a long time. Whaddya think?”
“Sounds drunk to me.”
“Give the man a gold cigar,” Albert grimaced, “’cause he done say the magic word.” He hunched his shoulders and continued to walk. “Sorry to put you through this,” he finally said. I could tell the apology was real. “I just don’t want to be alone in there with him.”
“Don’t blame you,” I said, and we were silent again.
“Paulie, you ever hate anybody?” he finally asked.
“Truly hate?”
“Yeah. Spill their guts, truly.”
“No, I guess not. Not really”
“I do,” he said, looking at the house. “Every damn day of my life.”
“That’s rough.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Something else hit the wall inside and shattered.
“Guess I don’t,” I said.
The sounds finally subsided and then quit. We found ourselves leaning on the fence in the open alley at the back of Albert’s yard, tossing pebbles at the garage. “I thought he’d never pass out,” Albert said. He stopped tossing pebbles and just stared at me for a long time. He didn’t even seem to blink.
“What?” I shrugged. His gaze made me uncomfortable.
“Just wonderin’,” he said. “Why does everyone in the neighborhood think I’m always the cause of any trouble that happens?” I thought he was joking, and said so. “No jive, man,” Albert said. “Just yesterday the Gilsson’s gave Ma all sorts of crap ‘bout something I wasn’t even around to do! Can ya believe it?”
Albert tossed the remaining pebbles onto the garage roof. They made a loud racket as they fell into the rain gutter. He looked at me as if expecting a response, but I said nothing.
“I mean it, Paulie. Why is it everyone starts pointing at me when shit happens? Why do all those dried-up pukes think I’m the cause of every bit of trouble around here?”
Without thinking, I suggested, “Maybe because you are?”
Albert stopped talking. His glare was ferocious. I’d been kidding, even though I knew there was a lot of truth in what I’d said. Too late, I realized Albert had been very serious. A large cinder suddenly flew in my direction. It smashed against a metal trash can and exploded into a huge shower of grit and dust. The top of the can went flying and Mrs. Angelini’s little dog started barking furiously.
I looked at the mark the cinder made on the can. To this day, I don’t think Albert meant to hit me, but you never knew with him. He was so close it would have been hard to miss me. Yet it would have been easy to miss on purpose, too.
With the metal still ringing, Albert stomped toward his house, paused, and looked back at me. “I bring a lotta shit down on myself,” he said angrily, “but I don’t deserve all I get.” He took another step and looked back once more. “And I certainly didn’t deserve that,” he said. “Not from you, Paulie.” I remember his eyes looking almost haunted. “Not from you, too.”
“Albert …” I started. I wanted desperately to apologize.
“Go straight to hell with the rest of ‘em!” The door slammed as he went inside.
“Albert,” I pleaded. “Wait … I’m sorry!”
I’ll never know if he heard me. I never spoke to him again. My father was transferred that fall and our family moved out of the neighborhood. The day we moved, I went to say goodbye. I knew Albert was home, but he wouldn’t come to the door.
“Just tell him I’m leaving,” I told a bleary-eyed Carl, “and I’ll try to come back to see him.” Only I never did.
more tomorrow ... 
