The House on Mango Street 4

Once when we were living on Loomis, a nun¹ from my school passed by and saw me playing out front. The Laundromat downstairs had been boarded up because it had been robbed² two days before and the owner had painted on the wood YES WE'RE OPEN so as not lose business.

Where do you live? She asked.

There, I said pointing up to the third floor.

You live there?

There. I had to look to where she pointed³ –—— the third floor, the paint peeling, wooden bars Papa had nailed⁴ on the windows so we wouldn't fall out. You live there? The way she said it made me feel like nothing. There. I lived there. I nodded.

I knew then I had to have to house. A real house. One I could point to .but this isn't it. The house on Mango Street isn't it. For the time being, Mama says. Temporary, says Papa. But I know how those things go.

芒果街上的小屋 4

我们住在Loomis时，有一回学校的嬷嬷经过那里，看到我在房前玩。楼下的自助洗衣店被用木板封了起来，因为两天前刚被洗劫过。为了不走掉生意，主人在木头上涂抹了几个字：“是的，我们在营业。”

“你住哪里呀？”她问。

那里。我说，指了指三楼。

你住在那里？

那里。我不得不朝他指的地方看去——三层楼上，那里墙皮斑驳，窗上横着几根木条，是爸爸钉上去的，那样我们就不会掉出来。你住在那里？她说话的样子让我觉得自己什么都不是。那里，我住在那里。我点头。

于是，我明白，我得有一所房子。一所真正的大屋。一所可以指给别人看的房子。可这里不是。芒果街上的小屋不是。目前就这样，妈妈说。这是暂时的，爸爸说。可恶知道事情是怎样的。