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the kite runner-第32部分
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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。
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