厨房的桌子旁

Ben 站在 Edith 的厨房里,包是空的,他在等我的回答。

Ben was standing in Edith’s kitchen with an empty postbag, waiting for my answer.

“我不知道,”我说。

“I don’t know,” I said.

这是真话,可也是最糟的回答。Ben 看着我,好像我打了他一下。

It was the truth. It was also the worst possible answer. Ben looked at me as if I had hit him.

“你不知道,”他说。

“You don’t know,” he said.

“Ben,”Edith 说。

“Ben,” said Edith.

“不。她不知道。我送了九年信,你做了四十年,她还是不知道。”他转向门口。”我去山坡那边要晚了。”

“No. She doesn’t know. Nine years of my job and forty years of yours, and she doesn’t know.” He turned to the door. “I’m late for the hill.”

他很快地下了楼,街门在他身后关上了。Edith 和我静静地坐着。茶已经凉了。

He went down the stairs, fast, and the street door closed behind him. Edith and I sat in silence. The tea had gone cold.

“他害怕了,”Edith 说。”他一害怕就大声说话。他十岁的时候就这样。”她把脸转向我。”我不会再问你了,Leila。你想好了再告诉我。不过我想请你做另一件事。柜子上的盒子里还有二十一封信,十三天以后就是圣诞节了。Ben 不能一边读一边写。他先读一封给我听,我再想,然后他再写,三封信就要用一整个晚上。如果他写的时候有别人读信给我听,我们就能快一倍。”

“He’s frightened,” said Edith. “He shouts when he’s frightened. He did it when he was ten.” She turned her face towards me. “I won’t ask you again, Leila. You’ll tell me when you know. But I have something to ask you instead. There are twenty-one letters still in that box on the dresser, and Christmas is in thirteen days. Ben can’t read and write at the same time. He reads me a letter, then I think, then he writes, and it takes all evening for three letters. If someone read them to me while he wrote, we would be twice as fast.”

“您想让我帮忙?”

“You want me to help you?”

“我想让你读,”她说。”你的声音很好听。明天晚上七点来。Ben 会在。”

“I want you to read,” she said. “You have a good voice. Come tomorrow evening at seven. Ben will be here.”

“Ben 不会想让我在这儿的。”

“Ben won’t want me here.”

“Ben,”Edith 说,”会听话的。是我教的他。”

“Ben,” said Edith, “will do as he’s told. I taught him.”

十三号星期日早上,Dana 发来一封邮件。很短。

On Sunday morning, the thirteenth, there was an email from Dana. It was short.

“Leila,你的笔记我看了。楼上的人也看了。大家都喜欢这个邮递员。一个秘密的圣尼古拉,一个天亮前的邮递员,又是圣诞节:太好了。我给你留着二十四号的头版。二十三号以前我要完整的文章,要有名字,还要一张照片。作者和邮递员,如果可以,拍在一起。别让我失望。D。”

“Leila, I’ve read your notes. Upstairs have read your notes. Everyone loves the postman. A secret Saint Nicholas and a postman at dawn, at Christmas: it’s perfect. I’m keeping the front page for the 24th. Josh is checking every fact in your notes for the lawyers, so answer him when he writes. I need the full piece by the 23rd, with names, and a photograph. The writer, and the postman, together if you can get it. Don’t let me down. D.”