How stupid of me. I could hardly loiter in the hotel corridors in my ordinary clothes, and if I was going to borrow a uniform, that meant having to go and make conversation with whoever happened to be managing the front office. As soon as they realized it was my day off, I was pretty sure I’d be sent packing.
Feeling enraged and frustrated, I left the building, even though I’d only just arrived, then boarded a bus and returned home. Well, at least I’d had my season pass; I hadn’t wasted any money. Such were my thoughts on the ride back.
Once home, I watched a little TV, then took a nap. When I woke up, I could see that it was already beginning to get dark. I stayed in bed a bit longer and then, just before the stores in the shopping district would be closing, I roused myself and got up.
Once I was in the shopping district, I wandered by the greengrocer’s, then the drugstore, then the hundred-yen shop, and took a look inside. At the Tatsumi sake store, I bought something from the vending machine at the entrance—avoiding actually entering the shop itself. My last stop was the sozaiya, the mom-and-pop shop that sold rice balls, ingredients for oden, and other basic prepared foods. I was comparing two packs of something that had been discounted, unable to decide which to buy, when I raised my eyes and saw the Woman in the Purple Skirt heading toward me.
I was stunned, never imagining we’d run into each other at this time of day. I was sure I’d seen the whiteboard show an occupancy rate at the hotel of less than one third, in which case she would have finished work hours ago and would already be ensconced at home.
The distance between us was a good fifty feet or so. As I watched her walking up the street, something about her struck me as a bit off. She had none of the easy rhythm and speed that she normally had when walking through the shopping district. Maybe it was because it was late, and there were fewer people to avoid, but my goodness, she hardly seemed able to put one foot in front of the other.
Had Supervisor Tsukada worked her too hard? It was her third day of work. The closer she came, the more clearly I could see her face: her eyes were dull and unfocused, her head lolled on her neck, and her jaw was slack.
What could it be? What on earth could have happened to her?
I bitterly regretted how I had spent my morning. Why did I turn on the TV like that and just lie around napping and doing nothing? Why didn’t I return to the hotel? I should have just shoved my uniform—who cared if it was damp—in my bag and gone straight back. I had my commuter pass. I shouldn’t even have had to think about it.
Every now and then one of her legs seemed to give way, and the Woman in the Purple Skirt staggered sideways. If somebody had tried to bump into her, she would’ve been sent flying and landed flat on her face. The thought crossed my mind, momentarily, but of course nobody tried anything so stupid. The Woman in the Purple Skirt passed right by me, slowly, and continued walking, or rather staggering, in the direction of her apartment.
After she had passed by me, a customer standing nearby remarked to the shop owner:
“That girl looked very unsteady. I wonder whether she’ll be okay.”
The owner threw a glance at the receding figure of the Woman in the Purple Skirt. “Well, she’s able to walk. I don’t think there’s any cause for concern.”
Neither of them appeared to be aware of who it was that had just passed by.
I spent the next day in a state of anxiety.
It was the Woman in the Purple Skirt’s day off—her first since the day (Monday) she joined the agency. From the state she had been in the night before, I imagined she’d probably spend the whole day in bed. It was unlikely that someone so thoroughly inebriated could recover in the space of a single day. I wanted to ask Supervisor Tsukada what could have happened, but unusually, Supervisor Tsukada too was off that day.
What made me particularly concerned was the possibility that the Woman in the Purple Skirt wouldn’t make it to work the morning after her day off. So many recruits stick it out for the first two or three days, and then, on their very first day off, all of sudden they just disappear.
I didn’t want that to happen with the Woman in the Purple Skirt. Here she was, finally employed. She should stick it out just a little longer. At least until we got to know each other.
I felt considerable relief when I saw her the next morning at the front of the line for the bus.
Her demeanor was completely different from that of a couple of nights earlier. Her color had returned, and she was standing up straight, clear-eyed and focused.
When the bus came, it was already packed. It’s always like this in the morning, which is a pain in the neck, but waiting for the next bus would mean being late to work. Taking advantage of her small frame, the Woman in the Purple Skirt squeezed herself on board, pressing herself right up against the flank of a salaryman.
Several people in line for the bus gave up trying to squeeze on board and headed for the taxi stand, so I suddenly found myself near the front of the line, even
