the kite runner-第57章

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　the　Shar…e…Nau　section　to　Kerteh…Parwan　to　buy　a　carpet；　you　risked　getting　shot　by　a　sniper　or　getting　blown　up　by　a　rocket……if　you　got　past　all　the　checkpoints；　that　was。　You　practically　needed　a　visa　to　go　from　one　neighborhood　to　the　other。　So　people　just　stayed　put；　prayed　the　next　rocket　wouldn　t　hit　their　home。　　He　told　me　how　people　knocked　holes　in　the　walls　of　their　homes　so　they　could　bypass　the　dangerous　streets　and　would　move　down　the　block　from　hole　to　hole。　In　other　parts；　people　moved　about　in　underground　tunnels。
　Why　didn　t　you　leave？　　I　said。
　Kabul　was　my　home。　It　still　is。　　He　snickered。　　Remember　the　street　that　went　from　your　house　to　the　Qishla；　the　military　bar　racks　next　to　Istiqial　School？　
　Yes。　　It　was　the　shortcut　to　school。　I　remembered　the　day　Hassan　and　I　crossed　it　and　the　soldiers　had　teased　Hassan　about　his　mother。　Hassan　had　cried　in　the　cinema　later；　and　I　d　put　an　arm　around　him。
　When　the　Taliban　rolled　in　and　kicked　the　Alliance　out　of　Kabul；　I　actually　danced　on　that　street；　　Rahim　Khan　said。　　And；　believe　me；　I　wasn　t　alone。　People　were　celebrating　at　_Chaman_；　at　Deh…Mazang；　greeting　the　Taliban　in　the　streets；　climbing　their　tanks　and　posing　for　pictures　with　them。　People　were　so　tired　of　the　constant　fighting；　tired　of　the　rockets；　the　gunfire；　the　explosions；　tired　of　watching　Gulbuddin　and　his　cohorts　firing　on　any　thing　that　moved。　The　Alliance　did　more　damage　to　Kabul　than　the　Shorawi。　They　destroyed　your　father　s　orphanage；　did　you　know　that？　
　Why？　　I　said。　　Why　would　they　destroy　an　orphanage？　　I　remembered　sitting　behind　Baba　the　day　they　opened　the　orphanage。　The　wind　had　knocked　off　his　caracul　hat　and　everyone　had　laughed；　then　stood　and　clapped　when　he　d　delivered　his　speech。　And　now　it　was　just　another　pile　of　rubble。　All　the　money　Baba　had　spent；　all　those　nights　he　d　sweated　over　the　blueprints；　all　the　visits　to　the　construction　site　to　make　sure　every　brick；　every　beam；　and　every　block　was　laid　just　right。。。
　Collateral　damage；　　Rahim　Khan　said。　　You　don　t　want　to　know；　Amir　jan；　what　it　was　like　sifting　through　the　rubble　of　that　orphanage。　There　were　body　parts　of　children。。。　
　So　when　the　Taliban　came。。。　
　They　were　heroes；　　Rahim　Khan　said。　　Peace　at　last。　
　Yes；　hope　is　a　strange　thing。　Peace　at　last。　But　at　what　price？　　A　violent　coughing　fit　gripped　Rahim　Khan　and　rocked　his　gaunt　body　back　and　forth。　When　he　spat　into　his　handkerchief；　it　immediately　stained　red。　I　thought　that　was　as　good　a　time　as　any　to　address　the　elephant　sweating　with　us　in　the　tiny　room。
　How　are　you？　　I　asked。　　I　mean　really；　how　are　you？　
　Dying；　actually；　　he　said　in　a　gurgling　voice。　Another　round　of　coughing。　More　blood　on　the　handkerchief。　He　wiped　his　mouth；　blotted　his　sweaty　brow　from　one　wasted　temple　to　the　other　with　his　sleeve；　and　gave　me　a　quick　glance。　When　he　nodded；　I　knew　he　had　read　the　next　question　on　my　face。　　Not　long；　　he　breathed。
　How　long？　
He　shrugged。　Coughed　again。　　I　don　t　think　I　ll　see　the　end　of　this　summer；　　he　said。
　Let　me　take　you　home　with　me。　I　can　find　you　a　good　doctor。　They　re　ing　up　with　new　treatments　all　the　time。　There　are　new　drugs　and　experimental　treatments；　we　could　enroll　you　in　one。。。　　I　was　rambling　and　I　knew　it。　But　it　was　better　than　crying；　which　I　was　probably　going　to　do　anyway。
He　let　out　a　chuff　of　laughter；　revealed　missing　lower　incisors。　It　was　the　most　tired　laughter　I　d　ever　heard。　　I　see　America　has　infused　you　with　the　optimism　that　has　made　her　so　great。　That　s　very　good。　We　re　a　melancholic　people；　we　Afghans；　aren　t　we？　Often；　we　wallow　too　much　in　ghamkhori　and　self…pity。　We　give　in　to　loss；　to　suffering；　accept　it　as　a　fact　of　life；　even　see　it　as
necessary。　Zendagi　migzara；　we　say；　life　goes　on。　But　I　am　not　surrendering　to　fate　here；　I　am　being　pragmatic。　I　have　seen　several　good　doctors　here　and　they　have　given　the　same　answer。　I　trust　them　and　believe　them。　There　is　such　a　thing　as　God　s　will。　
　There　is　only　what　you　do　and　what　you　don　t　do；　　I　said。
Rahim　Khan　laughed。　　You　sounded　like　your　father　just　now。　I　miss　him　so　much。　But　it　is　God　s　will；　Amir　jan。　It　really　is。　　He　paused。　　Besides；　there　s　another　reason　I　asked　you　to　e　here。　I　wanted　to　see　you　before　I　go；　yes；　but　something　else　too。　
　Anything。　
　You　know　all　those　years　I　lived　in　your　father　s　house　after　you　left？　
　Yes。　
　I　wasn　t　alone　for　all　of　them。　Hassan　lived　there　with　me。　
　Hassan；　　I　said。　When　was　the　last　time　I　had　spoken　his　name？　Those　thorny　old　barbs　of　guilt　bore　into　me　once　more；　as　if　speaking　his　name　had　broken　a　spell；　set　them　free　to　torment　me　anew。　Suddenly　the　air　in　Rahim　Khan　s　little　flat　was　too　thick；　too　hot；　too　rich　with　the　smell　of　the　street。
　I　thought　about　writing　you　and　telling　you　before；　but　I　wasn　t　sure　you　wanted　to　know。　Was　I　wrong？　
The　truth　was　no。　The　lie　was　yes。　I　settled　for　something　in　between。　　I　don　t　know。　
He　coughed　another　patch　of　blood　into　the　handkerchief。　When　he　bent　his　head　to　spit；　I　saw　honey…crusted　sores　on　his　scalp。　　I　brought　you　here　because　I　am　going　to　ask　something　of　you。　I　m　going　to　ask　you　to　do　something　for　me。　But　before　I　do；　I　want　to　tell　you　about　Hassan。　Do　you　understand？　
　Yes；　　I　murmured。
　I　want　to　tell　you　about　him。　I　want　to　tell　you　everything。　You　will　listen？　
I　nodded。
Then　Rahim　Khan　sipped　some　more　tea。　Rested　his　head　against　the　wall　and　spoke。
SIXTEEN
There　were　a　lot　of　reasons　why　I　went　to　Hazarajat　to　find　Hassan　in　1986。　The　biggest　one；　Allah　forgive　me；　was　that　I　was　lonely。　By　then；　most　of　my　friends　and　relatives　had　eithe