the kite runner-第97章

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　the　way　her　hair　glinted　in　the　sunlight；　her　favorite　ice　cream　flavor；　the　songs　she　liked　to　hum；　did　she　bite　her　nails？　Baba　took　his　memories　of　her　to　the　grave　with　him。　Maybe　speaking　her　name　would　have　reminded　him　of　his　guilt；　of　what　he　had　done　so　soon　after　she　had　died。　Or　maybe　his　loss　had　been　so　great；　his　pain　so　deep；　he　couldn　t　bear　to　talk　about　her。　Maybe　both。
　She　said；　　I　m　so　afraid。　　And　I　said；　　Why？；　　and　she　said；　　Because　I　m　so　profoundly　happy；　Dr。　Rasul。　Happiness　like　this　is　frightening。　　I　asked　her　why　and　she　said；　　They　only　let　you　be　this　happy　if　they　re　preparing　to　take　something　from　you；　　and　I　said；　　Hush　up；　now。　Enough　of　this　silliness。　
Farid　took　my　arm。　　We　should　go；　Amir　agha；　　he　said　softly。　I　snatched　my　arm　away。　　What　else？　What　else　did　she　say？　
The　old　man　s　features　softened。　　I　wish　I　remembered　for　you。　But　I　don　t。　Your　mother　passed　away　a　long　time　ago　and　my　memory　is　as　shattered　as　these　buildings。　I　am　sorry。　
　But　even　a　small　thing；　anything　at　all。　
The　old　man　smiled。　　I　ll　try　to　remember　and　that　s　a　promise。　e　back　and　find　me。　
　Thank　you；　　I　said。　　Thank　you　so　much。　　And　I　meant　it。　Now　I　knew　my　mother　had　liked　almond　cake　with　honey　and　hot　tea；　that　she　d　once　used　the　word　　profoundly；　　that　she　d　fretted
about　her　happiness。　I　had　just　learned　more　about　my　mother　from　this　old　man　on　the　street　than　I　ever　did　from　Baba。
Walking　back　to　the　truck；　neither　one　of　us　mented　about　what　most　non…Afghans　would　have　seen　as　an　improbable　coincidence；　that　a　beggar　on　the　street　would　happen　to　know　my　mother。　Because　we　both　knew　that　in　Afghanistan；　and　particularly　in　Kabul；　such　absurdity　was　monplace。　Baba　used　to　say；　　Take　two　Afghans　who　ve　never　met；　put　them　in　a　room　for　ten　minutes；　and　they　ll　figure　out　how　they　re　related。　
We　left　the　old　man　on　the　steps　of　that　building。　I　meant　to　take　him　up　on　his　offer；　e　back　and　see　if　he　d　unearthed　any　more　stories　about　my　mother。　But　I　never　saw　him　again。
WE　FOUND　THE　NEW　ORPHANAGE　in　the　northern　part　of　Karteh…Seh；　along　the　banks　of　the　dried…up　Kabul　River。　It　was　a　flat；　barracks…style　building　with　splintered　walls　and　windows　boarded　with　planks　of　wood。　Farid　had　told　me　on　the　way　there　that　Karteh…Seh　had　been　one　of　the　most　war…ravaged　neighborhoods　in　Kabul；　and；　as　we　stepped　out　of　the　truck；　the　evidence　was　overwhelming。　The　cratered　streets　were　flanked　by　little　more　than　ruins　of　shelled　buildings　and　abandoned　homes。　We　passed　the　rusted　skeleton　of　an　overturned　car；　a　TV　set　with　no　screen　half…buried　in　rubble；　a　wall　with　the　words　ZENDA　BAD　TAL　IRAN！　（Long　live　the　Taliban！）　sprayed　in　black。
A　short；　thin；　balding　man　with　a　shaggy　gray　beard　opened　the　door。　He　wore　a　ragged　tweed　jacket；　a　skullcap；　and　a　pair　of　eyeglasses　with　one　chipped　lens　resting　on　the　tip　of　his　nose。　Behind　the　glasses；　tiny　eyes　like　black　peas　flitted　from　me　to　Farid。　　Salaam　alaykum；　　he　said。
　Salaam　alaykum；　　I　said。　I　showed　him　the　Polaroid。　　We　re　searching　for　this　boy。　
He　gave　the　photo　a　cursory　glance。　　I　am　sorry。　I　have　never　seen　him。　
　You　barely　looked　at　the　picture；　my　friend；　　Farid　said。　　Why　not　take　a　closer　look？　
　Lotfan；　　I　added。　Please。
The　man　behind　the　door　took　the　picture。　Studied　it。　Handed　it　back　to　me。　　Nay；　sorry。　I　know　just　about　every　single　child　in　this　institution　and　that　one　doesn　t　look　familiar。　Now；　if　you　ll　permit　me；　I　have　work　to　do。　　He　closed　the　door。　Locked　the　bolt。
I　rapped　on　the　door　with　my　knuckles。　　Agha！　Agha；　please　open　the　door。　We　don　t　mean　him　any　harm。　
　I　told　you。　He　s　not　here；　　his　voice　came　from　the　other　side。　　Now；　please　go　away。　
Farid　stepped　up　to　the　door；　rested　his　forehead　on　it。　　Friend；　we　are　not　with　the　Taliban；　　he　said　in　a　low；　cautious　voice。　　The　man　who　is　with　me　wants　to　take　this　boy　to　a　safe　place。　
　I　e　from　Peshawar；　　I　said。　　A　good　friend　of　mine　knows　an　American　couple　there　who　run　a　charity　home　for　children。　　I　felt　the　man　s　presence　on　the　other　side　of　the　door。　Sensed　him　stand