the kite runner-第26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！


Hassan　shuffling　around　the　kitchen　in　the　morning；　hear　the　clinking　of　silverware；　the　whistle　of　the　teapot。　I　d　wait　to　hear　the　door　shut　and　only　then　I　would　walk　down　to　eat。　On　my　calendar；　I　circled　the　date　of　the　first　day　of　school　and　began　a　countdown。
To　my　dismay；　Hassan　kept　trying　to　rekindle　things　between　us。　I　remember　the　last　time。　I　was　in　my　room；　reading　an　abbreviated　Farsi　translation　of　Ivanhoe；　when　he　knocked　on　my　door。
　What　is　it？　
　I　m　going　to　the　baker　to　buy　_naan_；　　he　said　from　the　other　side。　　I　was　wondering　if　you。。。　if　you　wanted　to　e　along。　
　I　think　I　m　just　going　to　read；　　I　said；　rubbing　my　temples。　Lately；　every　time　Hassan　was　around；　I　was　getting　a　headache。
　It　s　a　sunny　day；　　he　said。
　I　can　see　that。　
　Might　be　fun　to　go　for　a　walk。　
　You　go。　
　I　wish　you　d　e　along；　　he　said。　Paused。　Something　thumped　against　the　door；　maybe　his　forehead。　　I　don　t　know　what　I　ve　done；　Amir　agha。　I　wish　you　d　tell　me。　I　don　t　know　why　we　don　t　play　anymore。　
　You　haven　t　done　anything；　Hassan。　Just　go。　
　You　can　tell　me；　I　ll　stop　doing　it。　
I　buried　my　head　in　my　lap；　squeezed　my　temples　with　my　knees；　like　a　vice。　　I　ll　tell　you　what　I　want　you　to　stop　doing；　　I　said；　eyes　pressed　shut。
　Anything。　
　I　want　you　to　stop　harassing　me。　I　want　you　to　go　away；　　I　snapped。　I　wished　he　would　give　it　right　back　to　me；　break　the　door　open　and　tell　me　off……it　would　have　made　things　easier；　better。　But　he　didn　t　do　anything　like　that；　and　when　I　opened　the　door　minutes　later；　he　wasn　t　there。　I　fell　on　my　bed；　buried　my　head　under　the　pillow；　and　cried。
HASSAN　MILLED　ABOUT　the　periphery　of　my　life　after　that。　I　made　sure　our　paths　crossed　as　little　as　possible；　planned　my　day　that　way。　Because　when　he　was　around；　the　oxygen　seeped　out　of　the　room。　My　chest　tightened　and　I　couldn　t　draw　enough　air；　I　d　stand　there；　gasping　in　my　own　little　airless　bubble　of　atmosphere。　But　even　when　he　wasn　t　around；　he　was。　He　was　there　in　the　hand…washed　and　ironed　clothes　on　the　cane…seat　chair；　in　the　warm　slippers　left　outside　my　door；　in　the　wood　already　burning　in　the　stove　when　I　came　down　for　breakfast。　Everywhere　I　turned；　I　saw　signs　of　his　loyalty；　his　goddamn　unwavering　loyalty。
Early　that　spring；　a　few　days　before　the　new　school　year　started；　Baba　and　I　were　planting　tulips　in　the　garden。　Most　of　the　snow　had　melted　and　the　hills　in
the　north　were　already　dotted　with　patches　of　green　grass。　It　was　a　cool；　gray　morning；　and　Baba　was　squatting　next　to　me；　digging　the　soil　and　planting　the　bulbs　I　handed　to　him。　He　was　telling　me　how　most　people　thought　it　was　better　to　plant　tulips　in　the　fall　and　how　that　wasn　t　true；　when　I　came　right　out　and　said　it。　　Baba；　have　you　ever　thought　about　get　ting　new　servants？　
He　dropped　the　tulip　bulb　and　buried　the　trowel　in　the　dirt。　Took　off　his　gardening　gloves。　I　d　startled　him。　　Chi？　What　did　you　say？　
　I　was　just　wondering；　that　s　all。　
　Why　would　I　ever　want　to　do　that？　　Baba　said　curtly。
　You　wouldn　t；　I　guess。　It　was　just　a　question；　　I　said；　my　voice　fading　to　a　murmur。　I　was　already　sorry　I　d　said　it。
　Is　this　about　you　and　Hassan？　I　know　there　s　something　going　on　between　you　two；　but　whatever　it　is；　you　have　to　deal　with　it；　not　me。　I　m　staying　out　of　it。　
　I　m　sorry；　Baba。　
He　put　on　his　gloves　again。　　I　grew　up　with　Ali；　　he　said　through　clenched　teeth。　　My　father　took　him　in；　he　loved　Ali　like　his　own　son。　Forty　years　Ali　s　been　with　my　family。　Forty　goddamn　years。　And　you　think　I　m　just　going　to　throw　him　out？　　He　turned　to　me　now；　his　face　as　red　as　a　tulip。　　I　ve　never　laid　a　hand　on　you；　Amir；　but　you　ever　say　that　again。。。　　He　looked　away；　shaking　his　head。　　You　bring　me　shame。　And　Hassan。。。　Hassan　s　not　going　anywhere；　do　you　understand？　
I　looked　down　and　picked　up　a　fistful　of　cool　soil。　Let　it　pour　between　my　fingers。
　I　said；　Do　you　understand？　　Baba　roared。
I　flinched。　　Yes；　Baba。　
　Hassan　s　not　going　anywhere；　　Baba　snapped。　He　dug　a　new　hole　with　the　trowel；　striking　the　dirt　harder　than　he　had　to。　　He　s　staying　right　here　with　us；　where　he　belongs。　This　is　his　home　and　we　re　his　family。　Don　t　you　ever　ask　me　that　question　again！　
　I　won　t；　Baba。　I　m　sorry。　
We　planted　the　rest　of　the　tulips　in　silence。
I　was　relieved　when　school　started　that　next　week。　Students　with　new　notebooks　and　sharpened　pencils　in　hand　ambled　about　the　courtyard；　kicking　up　dust；　chatting　in　groups；　waiting　for　the　class　captains　　whistles。　Baba　drove　down　the　dirt　lane　that　led　to　the　entrance。　The　school　was　an　old　two…story　building　with　broken　windows　and　dim；　cobblestone　hallways；　patches　of　its　original　dull　yellow　paint　still　showing　between　sloughing　chunks　of　plaster。　Most　of　the　boys　walked　to　school；　and　Baba　s　black　Mustang　drew　more　than　one　envious　look。　I　should　have　been　beaming　with　pride　when　he　dropped　me　off……the　old　me　would　have……but　all　I　could　muster　was　a　mild　form　of　embarrassment。　That　and　emptiness。　Baba　drove　away　without　saying　good…bye。
I　bypassed　the　customary　paring　of　kite…fighting　scars　and　stood　in　line。　The　bell　rang　and　we　marched　to　our　assigned　class；　filed　in　in　pairs。　I　sat　in　the　back　row。　As　the　Farsi　teacher　handed　out　our　textbooks；　I　prayed　for　a　heavy　load　of　homework。
School　gave　me　an　excuse　to　stay　in　my　room　for　long　hours。　And；　for　a　while；　it　took　my　mind　off　what　had　happened　that　winter；　what　I　had　let　happen。　For　a　few　weeks；　I　preoccupied　myself　with　gravity　and　momentum；　atoms　and　cells；　the　Anglo…Afghan　wars；　instead　of　thinking　about　Hassan　and　what　had　happened　to　him。　But；　always；　my　mind　returned　to　the　alley。　To　Hassan