the kite runner-第32章

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a　rock。
Hassan　dragged　a　sleeve　across　his　face；　wiped　snot　and　tears。　I　waited　for　him　to　say　something；　but　we　just　stood　there　in　silence；　in　the　fading　light。　I　was　grateful　for　the　early…evening　shadows　that　fell　on　Hassan　s　face　and　concealed　mine。　I　was　glad　I　didn　t　have　to　return　his　gaze。　Did　he　know　I　knew？　And　if　he　knew；　then　what　would　I　see　if　I　did　look　in　his　eyes？　Blame？　Indignation？　Or；　God　forbid；　what　I　feared　most：　guileless　devotion？　That；　most　of　all；　I　couldn　t　bear　to　see。
He　began　to　say　something　and　his　voice　cracked。　He　closed　his　mouth；　opened　it；　and　closed　it　again。　Took　a　step　back。　Wiped　his　face。　And　that　was　as　close　as　Hassan　and　I　ever　came　to　discussing　what　had　happened　in　the　alley。　I　thought　he　might　burst　into　tears；　but；　to　my　relief；　he　didn　t；　and　I　pretended　I　hadn　t　heard　the　crack　in　his　voice。　Just　like　I　pretended　I　hadn　t　seen　the　dark　stain　in　the　seat　of　his　pants。　Or　those　tiny　drops　that　fell　from　between　his　legs　and　stained　the　snow　black。
　Agha　sahib　will　worry；　　was　all　he　said。　He　turned　from　me　and　limped　away。
IT　HAPPENED　JUST　THE　WAY　I　d　imagined。　I　opened　the　door　to　the　smoky　study　and　stepped　in。　Baba　and　Rahim　Khan　were　drinking　tea　and　listening　to　the　news　crackling　on　the　radio。　Their　heads　turned。　Then　a　smile　played　on　my　father　s　lips。　He　opened　his　arms。　I　put　the　kite　down　and　walked　into　his　thick　hairy　arms。　I　buried　my　face　in　the　warmth　of　his　chest　and　wept。　Baba　held　me　close　to　him；　rocking　me　back　and　forth。　In　his　arms；　I　forgot　what　I　d　done。　And　that　was　good。
EIGHT
For　a　week；　I　barely　saw　Hassan。　I　woke　up　to　find　toasted　bread；　brewed　tea；　and　a　boiled　egg　already　on　the　kitchen　table。　My　clothes　for　the　day　were
ironed　and　folded；　left　on　the　cane…seat　chair　in　the　foyer　where　Hassan　usually　did　his　ironing。　He　used　to　wait　for　me　to　sit　at　the　breakfast　table　before　he　started　ironing……that　way；　we　could　talk。　Used　to　sing　too；　over　the　hissing　of　the　iron；　sang　old　Hazara　songs　about　tulip　fields。　Now　only　the　folded　clothes　greeted　me。　That；　and　a　breakfast　I　hardly　finished　anymore。
One　overcast　morning；　as　I　was　pushing　the　boiled　egg　around　on　my　plate；　Ali　walked　in　cradling　a　pile　of　chopped　wood。　I　asked　him　where　Hassan　was。
　He　went　back　to　sleep；　　Ali　said；　kneeling　before　the　stove。　He　pulled　the　little　square　door　open。
Would　Hassan　be　able　to　play　today？
Ali　paused　with　a　log　in　his　hand。　A　worried　look　crossed　his　face。　　Lately；　it　seems　all　he　wants　to　do　is　sleep。　He　does　his　chores……I　see　to　that……but　then　he　just　wants　to　crawl　under　his　blanket。　Can　I　ask　you　something？　
　If　you　have　to。　
　After　that　kite　tournament；　he　came　home　a　little　bloodied　and　his　shirt　was　torn。　I　asked　him　what　had　happened　and　he　said　it　was　nothing；　that　he　d　gotten　into　a　little　scuffle　with　some　kids　over　the　kite。　
I　didn　t　say　anything。　Just　kept　pushing　the　egg　around　on　my　plate。
　Did　something　happen　to　him；　Amir　agha？　Something　he　s　not　telling　me？　
I　shrugged。　　How　should　I　know？　
　You　would　tell　me；　nay？　_Inshallah_；　you　would　tell　me　if　some　thing　had　happened？　
　Like　I　said；　how　should　I　know　what　s　wrong　with　him？　　I　snapped。　　Maybe　he　s　sick。　People　get　sick　all　the　time；　Ali。　Now；　am　I　going　to　freeze　to　death　or　are　you　planning　on　lighting　the　stove　today？　
THAT　NIGHT　I　asked　Baba　if　we　could　go　to　Jalalabad　on　Friday。　He　was　rocking　on　the　leather　swivel　chair　behind　his　desk；　reading　a　newspaper。　He　put　it　down；　took　off　the　reading　glasses　I　disliked　so　much……Baba　wasn　t　old；　not　at　all；　and　he　had　lots　of　years　left　to　live；　so　why　did　he　have　to　wear　those　stupid　glasses？
　Why　not！　　he　said。　Lately；　Baba　agreed　to　everything　I　asked。　Not　only　that；　just　two　nights　before；　he　d　asked　me　if　I　wanted　to　see　_El　Cid_　with　Charlton　Heston　at　Cinema　Aryana。　　Do　you　want　to　ask　Hassan　to　e　along　to　Jalalabad？　
Why　did　Baba　have　to　spoil　it　like　that？　　He　s　mazreez；　　I　said。　Not　feeling　well。
　Really？　　Baba　stopped　rocking　in　his　chair。　　What　s　wrong　with　him？　
I　gave　a　shrug　and　sank　in　the　sofa　by　the　fireplace。　　He　s　got　a　cold　or　something。