Читать книгу Post Office on the Tokaido - Greta Gorsuch - Страница 5

Chapter Two

The night before, Siya’s landlady, Mrs. Nakano, had lent Siya her son’s old bicycle. “He’s away at university and doesn’t need it,” Mrs. Nakano said. “Next week I can help you find a bicycle you can buy. I know a good shop with secondhand bicycles.”

So this morning, on her first day of work, Siya rode a high school boy’s bicycle. It was hard to do. Her postal service uniform was a skirt and a jacket. Still, Siya stayed on and pointed the tall black bicycle in the direction of the Shindori (“New Road”) Post Office. The bicycle made a lot of noise. It rattled and squeaked like it would come apart. And when Siya put on the brakes to stop, the bicycle sounded like a dying animal. Even the few people out in the half-morning light turned around to look at her on her bicycle. The Shindori Post Office was about a mile away. This was a good twenty-minute ride. Mrs. Nakano showed her where to go on a map. Siya hoped she could remember how to get there. She thought, “Go past Tokiwa Park then turn left on Shindori at the supermarket . . .”

It was cold this morning. It was late November. Shizuoka City was much colder than Fukuoka City. Siya had a warm coat and scarf. But she still felt the strong, cold wind as she went slowly along. She didn’t have mittens. Her hands were freezing! She passed traffic signals, noodle shops, bus stops, a doctor’s clinic, and a beauty shop. She could read their signs easily. After all, she was born in Japan. She went to Japanese schools as a girl. But then on her right she saw a tall gray stone column with Chinese characters she couldn’t read. What was it? She slowed down to look. A motorbike behind her beeped its horn. Siya was going too slowly and had crossed into the street. She pulled over quickly and stopped. The motorbike driver raced around her. The driver shouted something at her.