the kite runner-第24章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　I　d　won；　but　as　I　shuffled　for　a　new　game；　I　had　the　distinct　suspicion　that　Hassan　had　let　me　win。
　Amir　agha？　
　What？　
　You　know。。。　I　_like_　where　I　live。　　He　was　always　doing　that；　reading　my　mind。　　It　s　my　home。　
　Whatever；　　I　said。　　Get　ready　to　lose　again。　
SEVEN
The　next　morning；　as　he　brewed　black　tea　for　breakfast；　Hassan　told　me　he　d　had　a　dream。　　We　were　at　Ghargha　Lake；　you；　me；　Father；　Agha　sahib；　Rahim　Khan；　and　thousands　of　other　people；　　he　said。　　It　was　warm　and　sunny；　and　the　lake　was　clear　like　a　mirror。　But　no　one　was　swimming　because　they　said　a　monster　had　e　to　the　lake。　It　was　swimming　at　the　bottom；　waiting。　
He　poured　me　a　cup　and　added　sugar；　blew　on　it　a　few　times。　Put　it　before　me。　　So　everyone　is　scared　to　get　in　the　water；　and　suddenly　you　kick　off　your　shoes；　Amir　agha；　and　take　off　your　shirt。　　There　s　no　monster；　　you　say。　　I　ll　show　you　all。　　And　before　anyone　can　stop　you；　you　dive　into　the　water；　start　swimming　away。　I　follow　you　in　and　we　re　both　swimming。　
　But　you　can　t　swim。　
Hassan　laughed。　　It　s　a　dream；　Amir　agha；　you　can　do　anything。　Anyway；　everyone　is　screaming；　　Get　out！　Get　out！　　but　we　just　swim　in　the　cold　water。　We　make　it　way　out　to　the　middle　of　the　lake　and　we　stop　swimming。　We　turn　toward　the　shore　and　wave　to　the　people。　They　look　small　like　ants；　but　we　can　hear　them　clapping。　They　see　now。　There　is　no　monster；　just　water。　They　change　the　name　of　the　lake　after　that；　and　call　it　the　　Lake　of　Amir　and　Hassan；　Sultans　of　Kabul；　　and　we　get　to　charge　people　money　for　swimming　in　it。　
　So　what　does　it　mean？　　I　said。
He　coated　my　_naan_　with　marmalade；　placed　it　on　a　plate。　　I　don　t　know。　I　was　hoping　you　could　tell　me。　
　Well；　it　s　a　dumb　dream。　Nothing　happens　in　it。　
　Father　says　dreams　always　mean　something。　
I　sipped　some　tea。　　Why　don　t　you　ask　him；　then？　He　s　so　smart；　　I　said；　more　curtly　than　I　had　intended。　I　hadn　t　slept　all　night。　My　neck　and　back　were　like　coiled　springs；　and　my　eyes　stung。　Still；　I　had　been　mean　to　Hassan。　I　almost　apologized；　then　didn　t。　Hassan　understood　I　was　just　nervous。　Hassan　always　understood　about　me。
Upstairs；　I　could　hear　the　water　running　in　Baba　s　bathroom。
THE　STREETS　GLISTENED　with　fresh　snow　and　the　sky　was　a　blameless　blue。　Snow　blanketed　every　rooftop　and　weighed　on　the　branches　of　the　stunted　mulberry　trees　that　lined　our　street。　Overnight；　snow　had　nudged　its　way　into　every　crack　and　gutter。　I　squinted　against　the　blinding　white　when　Hassan　and　I　stepped　through　the　wrought…iron　gates。　Ali　shut　the　gates　behind　us。　I　heard　him　mutter　a　prayer　under　his　breath……he　always　said　a　prayer　when　his　son　left　the　house。
I　had　never　seen　so　many　people　on　our　street。　Kids　were　flinging　snowballs；　squabbling；　chasing　one　another；　giggling。　Kite　fighters　were　huddling　with　their　spool　holders；　making　lastminute　preparations。　From　adjacent　streets；　I　could　hear　laughter　and　chatter。　Already；　rooftops　were　jammed　with　spectators　reclining　in　lawn　chairs；　hot　tea　steaming　from　thermoses；　and　the　music　of　Ahmad　Zahir　blaring　from　cassette　players。　The　immensely　popular　Ahmad　Zahir　had　revolutionized　Afghan　music　and　outraged　the　purists　by　adding　electric　guitars；　drums；　and　horns　to　the　traditional　tabla　and　harmonium；　on　stage　or　at　parties；　he　shirked　the　austere　and　nearly　morose　stance　of　older　singers　and　actually　smiled　when　he　sang……sometimes　even　at　women。　I　turned　my　gaze　to　our　rooftop；　found　Baba　and　Rahim　Khan　sitting　on　a　bench；　both　dressed　in　wool　sweaters；　sipping　tea。　Baba　waved。　I　couldn　t　tell　if　he　was　waving　at　me　or　Hassan。
　We　should　get　started；　　Hassan　said。　He　wore　black　rubber　snow　boots　and　a　bright　green　chapan　over　a　thick　sweater　and　faded　corduroy　pants。　Sunlight　washed　over　his　face；　and；　in　it；　I　saw　how　well　the　pink　scar　above　his　lip　had　healed。
Suddenly　I　wanted　to　withdraw。　Pack　it　all　in；　go　back　home。　What　was　I　thinking？　Why　was　I　putting　myself　through　this；　when　I　already　knew　the　oute？　Baba　was　on　the　roof；　watching　me。　I　felt　his　glare　on　me　like　the　heat　of　a　blistering　sun。　This　would　be　failure　on　a　grand　scale；　e