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Visiting C-Max

I should not have done it. I knew I should never have done it. So, why did I agree to take Abigail to see this old killer? When I got home, Rosa said, “I know that look. You’re not going to be doing much sleeping for a while, are you?”

She knows me better than anyone else alive, including myself. Seeing him again was not so bad, but hearing all those justifications yet another time, is more than I can bear. I saw too much of it in those days. I cannot imagine why I stayed all those years. I try never to talk about them.

It was not easy for Abigail either, I could see that. She would rather have been anywhere else than in the cell with that man. But she is the one who needed to be there. Whatever demon she has to deal with compelled her into C-Max and into that particular cell. I could have lived without it.

Worst of all, when I tried to discuss the matter afterwards, she fell silent. Fell silent? Only for a moment, then she left. I went to considerable trouble to get her in, but she has left me in the dark. I think she was damned inconsiderate. It is not even clear why she wanted to see him.

After that, I struck the impenetrable wall of the girls’ club. I tried to talk to Rosa about Abigail’s behaviour, but all she would say, was that Abigail must have had a good reason for running off as soon as we got back from C-Max. She was a person whom you could trust, Rosa said.

Later that evening, Wessel phoned, wanting to know how things had gone in C-Max. So, I told him. I should never have spoken to him, but I just needed a bit of male sympathy. He said little, leaving me to do the talking. Then, after I had been at it for perhaps ten minutes, he asked if you write C-Max will a capital C. “Have you been taking notes,” I demanded.

“Just a few to refresh my memory,” he said, trying to sound innocent.

“Have you got no morals?”

“Oh, come on, Yudel,” he said. “What’s this got to do with morality?”

“You wouldn’t know,” I told him.

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