the kite runner-第123章
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mes you have to stand up to them。 What you did to that man is what I should have done to him all those years ago。 You gave him what he deserved; and he deserved even more。
Do you think Father is disappointed in me?
I know he s not; I said。 You saved my life in Kabul。 I know he is very proud of you for that。
He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt。 It burst a bubble of spittle that had formed on his lips。 He buried his face in his hands and wept a long time before he spoke again。 I miss Father; and Mother too; he croaked。 And I miss Sasa and Rahim Khan sahib。 But sometimes I m glad they re not 。。。 they re not here anymore。
Why? I touched his arm。 He drew back。
Because…… he said; gasping and hitching between sobs; because I don t want them to see me。。。 I m so dirty。 He sucked in his breath and let it out in a long; wheezy cry。 I m so dirty and full of sin。
You re not dirty; Sohrab; I said。
Those men……
You re not dirty at all。
……they did things。。。 the bad man and the other two。。。 they did things。。。 did things to me。
You re not dirty; and you re not full of sin。 I touched his arm again and he drew away。 I reached again; gently; and pulled him to me。 I won t hurt you; I whispered。 I promise。 He resisted a lit tle。 Slackened。 He let me draw him to me and rested his head on my chest。 His little body convulsed in my arms with each sob。
A kinship exists between people who ve fed from the same breast。 Now; as the boy s pain soaked through my shirt; I saw that a kinship had taken root between us too。 What had happened in that room with Assef had irrevocably bound us。
I d been looking for the right time; the right moment; to ask the question that had been buzzing around in my head and keep ing me up at night。 I decided the moment was now; right here; right now; with the bright lights of the house of God shining on us。
Would you like to e live in America with me and my wife?
He didn t answer。 He sobbed into my shirt and I let him。
FOR A WEEK; neither one of us mentioned what I had asked him; as if the question hadn t been posed at all。 Then one day; Sohrab and I took a taxicab to the Daman…e…Koh Viewpoint……or the hem of the mountain。 Perched midway up the Margalla Hills; it gives a panoramic view of Islamabad; its rows of clean; tree…lined avenues and white houses。 The driver told us we could see the presidential palace from up there。 If it has rained and the air is clear; you can even see past Rawalpindi; he said。 I saw his eyes in his rearview mirror; skipping from Sohrab to me; back and forth; back and forth。 I saw my own face too。 It wasn t as swollen as before; but it had taken on a yellow tint from my assortment of fading bruises。
We sat on a bench in one of the picnic areas; in the shade of a gum tree。 It was a warm day; the sun perched high in a topaz blue sky。 On benches nearby; families snacked on samosas and pakoras。 Somewhere; a radio played a Hindi song I thought I remembered from an old movie; maybe Pakeeza。 Kids; many of them Sohrab s age; chased soccer balls; giggling; yelling。 I thought about the orphanage in Karteh…Seh; thought about the rat that had scurried between my feet in Zaman s office。 My chest tightened with a surge of unexpected anger at the way my countrymen were destroying their own land。
What? Sohrab asked。 I forced a smile and told him it wasn t important。
We unrolled one of the hotel s bathroom towels on the picnic table and played panjpar on it。 It felt good being there; with my half brother s son; playing
cards; the warmth of the sun patting the back of my neck。 The song ended and another one started; one I didn t recognize。
Look; Sohrab said。 He was pointing to the sky with his cards。 I looked up; saw a hawk circling in the broad seamless sky。 Didn t know there were hawks in Islamabad; I said。
Me neither; he said; his eyes tracing the bird s circular flight。 Do they have them where you live?
San Francisco? I guess so。 I can t say I ve seen too many; though。
Oh; he said。 I was hoping he d ask more; but he dealt another hand and asked if we could eat。 I opened the pap