the kite runner-第29章

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a　tell　Rahim　Khan　that　a　judge　had　bought　the　land　and　that　an　architect　was　working　on　the　design。　For　now；　the　lot　was　bare；　save　for　dirt；　stones；　and　weeds。
I　tore　the　wrapping　paper　from　Assef　s　present　and　tilted　the　book　cover　in　the　moonlight。　It　was　a　biography　of　Hitler。　I　threw　it　amid　a　tangle　of　weeds。
I　leaned　against　the　neighbor　s　wall；　slid　down　to　the　ground。　I　just　sat　in　the　dark　for　a　while；　knees　drawn　to　my　chest；　looking　up　at　the　stars；　waiting　for　the　night　to　be　over。
　Shouldn　t　you　be　entertaining　your　guests？　　a　familiar　voice　said。　Rahim　Khan　was　walking　toward　me　along　the　wall。
　They　don　t　need　me　for　that。　Baba　s　there；　remember？　　I　said。　The　ice　in　Rahim　Khan　s　drink　clinked　when　he　sat　next　to　me。　　I　didn　t　know　you　drank。　
　Turns　out　I　do；　　he　said。　Elbowed　me　playfully。　　But　only　on　the　most　important　occasions。　
I　smiled。　　Thanks。　
He　tipped　his　drink　to　me　and　took　a　sip。　He　lit　a　cigarette；　one　of　the　unfiltered　Pakistani　cigarettes　he　and　Baba　were　always　smoking。　　Did　I　ever　tell　you　I　was　almost　married　once？　
　Really？　　I　said；　smiling　a　little　at　the　notion　of　Rahim　Khan　getting　married。　I　d　always　thought　of　him　as　Baba　s　quiet　alter　ego；　my　writing　mentor；　my　pal；　the　one　who　never　forgot　to　bring　me　a　souvenir；　a　saughat；　when　he　returned　from　a　trip　abroad。　But　a　husband？　A　father？
He　nodded。　　It　s　true。　I　was　eighteen。　Her　name　was　Homaira。　She　was　a　Hazara；　the　daughter　of　our　neighbor　s　servants。　She　was　as　beautiful　as　a　pari；　light　brown　hair；　big　hazel　eyes。。。　she　had　this　laugh。。。　I　can　still　hear　it　sometimes。　　He　twirled　his　glass。　　We　used　to　meet　secretly　in　my　father　s　apple　orchards；　always　after　midnight　when　everyone　had　gone　to　sleep。　We　d　walk　under　the　trees　and　I　d　hold　her　hand。。。　Am　I　embarrassing　you；　Amir　jan？　
　A　little；　　I　said。
　It　won　t　kill　you；　　he　said；　taking　another　puff。　　Anyway；　we　had　this　fantasy。　We　d　have　a　great；　fancy　wedding　and　invite　family　and　friends　from　Kabul　to　Kandahar。　I　would　build　us　a　big　house；　white　with　a　tiled　patio　and　large　windows。　We　would　plant　fruit　trees　in　the　garden　and　grow　all　sorts　of　flowers；　have　a　lawn　for　our　kids　to　play　on。　On　Fridays；　after　_namaz_　at　the　mosque；　everyone　would　get　together　at　our　house　for　lunch　and　we　d　eat　in　the　garden；　under　cherry　trees；　drink　fresh　water　from　the　well。　Then　tea　with　candy　as　we　watched　our　kids　play　with　their　cousins。。。　
He　took　a　long　gulp　of　his　scotch。　Coughed。　　You　should　have　seen　the　look　on　my　father　s　face　when　I　told　him。　My　mother　actually　fainted。　My　sisters　splashed　her　face　with　water。　They　fanned　her　and　looked　at　me　as　if　I　had　slit　her　throat。　My　brother　Jalal　actually　went　to　fetch　his　hunting　rifle　before　my　father　stopped　him。　　Rahim　Khan　barked　a　bitter　laughter。　　It　was　Homaira　and　me　against　the　world。　And　I　ll　tell　you　this；　Amir　jan：　In　the　end；　the　world　always　wins。　That　s　just　the　way　of　things。　
　So　what　happened？　
　That　same　day；　my　father　put　Homaira　and　her　family　on　a　lorry　and　sent　them　off　to　Hazarajat。　I　never　saw　her　again。　
　I　m　sorry；　　I　said。
　Probably　for　the　best；　though；　　Rahim　Khan　said；　shrugging。　　She　would　have　suffered。　My　family　would　have　never　accepted　her　as　an　equal。　You　don　t　order　someone　to　polish　your　shoes　one　day　and　call　them　　sister　　the　next。　　He　looked　at　me。　　You　know；　you　can　tell　me　anything　you　want；　Amir　jan。　Anytime。　
　I　know；　　I　said　uncertainly。　He　looked　at　me　for　a　long　time；　like　he　was　waiting；　his　black　bottomless　eyes　hinting　at　an　unspoken　secret　between　us。　For　a　moment；　I　almost　did　tell　him。　Almost　told　him　everything；　but　then　what　would　he　think　of　me？　He　d　hate　me；　and　rightfully。
　Here。　　He　handed　me　something。　　I　almost　forgot。　Happy　birthday。　　It　was　a　brown　leather…bound　notebook。　I　traced　my　fingers　along　the　gold…colored　stitching　on　the　borders。　I　smelled　the
leather。　　For　your　stories；　　he　said。　I　was　going　to　thank　him　when　something　exploded　and　bursts　of　fire　lit　up　the　sky。
　Fireworks！　
We　hurried　back　to　the　house　and　found　the　guests　all　standing　in　the　yard；　looking　up　to　the　sky。　Kids　hooted　and　screamed　with　each　crackle　and　whoosh。　People　cheered；　burst　into　applause　each　time　flares　sizzled　and　exploded　into　bouquets　of　fire。　Every　few　seconds；　the　backyard　lit　up　in　sudden　flashes　of　red；　green；　and　yellow。
In　one　of　those　brief　bursts　of　light；　I　saw　something　I　ll　never　forget：　Hassan　serving　drinks　to　Assef　and　Wali　from　a　silver　platter。　The　light　winked　out；　a　hiss　and　a　crackle；　then　another　flicker　of　orange　light：　Assef　grinning；　kneading　Hassan　in　the　chest　with　a　knuckle。
Then；　mercifully；　darkness。
NINE
Sitting　in　the　middle　of　my　room　the　next　morning；　I　ripped　open　box　after　box　of　presents。　I　don　t　know　why　I　even　bothered；　since　I　just　gave　them　a　joyless　glance　and　pitched　them　to　the　corner　of　the　room。　The　pile　was　growing　there：　a　Polaroid　camera；　a　transistor　radio；　an　elaborate　electric　train　set……and　several　sealed　envelopes　containing　cash。　I　knew　I　d　never　spend　the　money　or　listen　to　the　radio；　and　the　electric　train　would　never　trundle　down　its　tracks　in　my　room。　I　didn　t　want　any　of　it……it　was　all　blood　money；　Baba　would　have　never　thrown　me　a　party　like　that　if　I　hadn　t　won　the　tournament。
Baba　gave　me　two　presents。　One　was　sure　to　bee　the　envy　of　every　kid　in　the　neighborhood：　a　brand　new　Schwinn　Stingray；　the　king　of　all　bicycles。　Only　a　handful　of　kids　in　all　of　Kabul　owned　a　new　Stingray　and　now　I　was　one　of　them。　It　had　high…rise　handlebars　with　black　rubber　grips　and　its　famous　banana　seat。　The　spokes　were　gold　colored　and　the　steel…frame　body　red；　like