Maybe in all of those fields I would have been a more useful human being. On the other hand, maybe not.

The truth is that crime and criminals, the crass and the convicted: they have always fascinated me more than other people do. Whether I could have served people better in some other field, never came into my original decision to enter the prison service.

God help me, but I love prisons and working among the men in them. And I always will.

When I finished, Rosa asked me what I thought.

I didn’t answer at first, but she kept on at me. Eventually I had to say something. “It’s okay,” I said.

“The book’s okay? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No. I’m saying it’s okay that he dropped me to write it.”

“I see,” she said.

“She also says you should read it.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“She asked if you were well.”

“I mean about The Classifier?”

“Yes, but I’m not going to tell you. Rather read it yourself.”

“I’m very busy,” I said.

“I know you are, Yudel,” she told me. “But you make time to read things that interest you. And as this book has been eating you up inside I think you should read it.”

“Perhaps I will,” I said.

“That would be the mature thing to do,” she said.

Mature? I swear that’s the word she used.

At least that’s what I thought, but Rosa has grabbed it first. When I remonstrated with her, she said, “I thought you weren’t interested.”

“I’m not,” I said.

“Then we don’t have a problem,” she said.

“Calm down, Yudel,” she said. “Just calm down.”

Nevertheless, when I promise someone that I’ll do something, I make a point of doing it. I don’t say that I will and then not send the manuscript. It’s just like him I told Rosa.

“Oh, Yudel,” she said.

She said, “Okay, I’ll tell him yes.”

“Don’t tell him I want to read it. Tell him I’m much too busy. Tell him you want to read it.”

“I don’t understand you, Yudel,” she said. “You hate it when he writes about you. Now you hate it when he doesn’t.”

“I’m just curious,” I said.

“Oh really,” she said. “If that’s just curious, I’d hate to see utterly obsessive.”

When I tried to discuss the matter rationally with Rosa she asked what I was getting so worked up about.

I said, “I am not getting worked up.”

“On no?” she said. “Why’s that steam coming out of your ears?” Then she burst out laughing when I made a slight gesture in the direction of my ears. And she laughed even more when I said that my little gesture had nothing to do with her silly remark.

I said, “Of course not, but she’s out.” Then I asked him how the sales of Those Who Love Night were going.

Instead of answering my question, he said, “Forget it. I’m not sharing the royalties with you.”

I tried to explain, but I heard him laughing on the other end of the line, so I hung up. I can’t stand people like him, always trying to get the better of other people.

God, but I’m always glad to hear from her or to see her. Thank heavens Rosa is all right with our relationship.

“Are they good publishers?” I asked. I thought it was a reasonable question.

And, can you believe, he sounded offended? “Of course they are good publishers,” he said. “What did you expect?”

I shouldn’t have taken the call. Next time I’ll let Rosa handle it! (Note the exclamation mark. Ebersohn hates them.)

“Like hell you don’t,” she said.