the kite runner-第85章

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ocially　legitimate　half；　the　half　that　represented　the　riches　he　had　inherited　and　the　sin…with…impunity　privileges　that　came　with　them。　When　he　saw　you；　he　saw　himself。　And　his　guilt。　You　are　still　angry　and　I　realize　it　is　far　too　early　to　expect　you　to　accept　this；　but　maybe　someday　you　will　see　that　when　your　father　was　hard　on　you；　he　was　also　being　hard　on　himself。　Your　father；　like　you；　was　a　tortured　soul；　Amir　jan。
I　cannot　describe　to　you　the　depth　and　blackness　of　the　sorrow　that　came　over　me　when　I　learned　of　his　passing。　I　loved　him　because　he　was　my　friend；　but　also　because　he　was　a　good　man；　maybe　even　a　great　man。　And　this　is　what　I　want　you　to　understand；　that　good；　real　good；　was　born　out　of　your　father　s　remorse。　Sometimes；　I　think　everything　he　did；　feeding　the　poor　on　the　streets；　building　the　orphanage；　giving　money　to　friends　in　need；　it　was　all　his　way　of　redeeming　himself。　And　that；　I　believe；　is　what　true　redemption　is；　Amir　jan；　when　guilt　leads　to　good。
I　know　that　in　the　end；　God　will　forgive。　He　will　forgive　your　father；　me；　and　you　too。　I　hope　you　can　do　the　same。　Forgive　your　father　if　you　can。　Forgive　me　if　you　wish。　But；　most　important；　forgive　yourself。
I　have　left　you　some　money；　most　of　what　I　have　left；　in　fact。　I　think　you　may　have　some　expenses　when　you　return　here；　and　the　money　should　be　enough　to　cover　them。　There　is　a　bank　in　Peshawar；　Farid　knows　the　location。　The　money　is　in　a　safe…deposit　box。　I　have　given　you　the　key。
As　for　me；　it　is　time　to　go。　I　have　little　time　left　and　I　wish　to　spend　it　alone。　Please　do　not　look　for　me。　That　is　my　final　request　of　you。
I　leave　you　in　the　hands　of　God。
Your　friend　always；
Rahim
I　dragged　the　hospital　gown　sleeve　across　my　eyes。　I　folded　the　letter　and　put　it　under　my　mattress。
Amir；　the　socially　legitimate　half；　the　half　that　represented　the　riches　he　had　inherited　and　the　sin…with…impunity　privileges　that　came　with　them。　Maybe　that　was　why　Baba　and　I　had　been　on　such　better　terms　in　the　U。S。；　I　wondered。　Selling　junk　for　petty　cash；　our　menial　jobs；　our　grimy　apartment……the　American　version　of　a　hut；　maybe　in　America；　when　Baba　looked　at　me；　he　saw　a　little　bit　of　Hassan。
Your　father；　like　you；　was　a　tortured　soul；　Rahim　Khan　had　written。　Maybe　so。　We　had　both　sinned　and　betrayed。　But　Baba　had　found　a　way　to　create　good　out　of　his　remorse。　What　had　I　done；　other　than　take　my　guilt　out　on　the　very　same　people　I　had　betrayed；　and　then　try　to　forget　it　all？　What　had　I　done；　other　than　bee　an　insomniac？
What　had　I　ever　done　to　right　things？
When　the　nurse……not　Aisha　but　a　red…haired　woman　whose　name　escapes　me……walked　in　with　a　syringe　in　hand　and　asked　me　if　I　needed　a　morphine　injection；　I　said　yes。
THEY　REMOVED　THE　CHEST　TUBE　early　the　next　morning；　and　Armand　gave　the　staff　the　go…ahead　to　let　me　sip　apple　juice。　I　asked　Aisha　for　a　mirror　when　she　placed　the　cup　of　juice　on　the　dresser　next　to　my　bed。　She　lifted　her　bifocals　to　her　forehead　as　she　pulled　the　curtain　open　and　let　the　morning　sun　flood　the　room。　　Remember；　now；　　she　said　over　her　shoulder；　　it　will　look　better　in　a　few　days。　My　son…in…law　was　in　a　moped　accident　last　year。　His　handsome　face　was　dragged　on　the　asphalt　and　became　purple　like　an　eggplant。　Now　he　is　beautiful　again；　like　a　Hollywood　movie　star。　
Despite　her　reassurances；　looking　in　the　mirror　and　seeing　the　thing　that　insisted　it　was　my　face　left　me　a　little　breathless。　It　looked　like　someone　had　stuck　an　air　pump　nozzle　under　my　skin　and　had　pumped　away。　My　eyes　were　puffy　and　blue。　The　worst　of　it　was　my　mouth；　a　grotesque　blob　of　purple　and　red；　all　bruise　and　stitches。　I　tried　to　smile　and　a　bolt　of　pain　ripped　through　my　lips。　I　wouldn　t　be　doing　that　for　a　while。　There　were　stitches
across　my　left　cheek；　just　under　the　chin；　on　the　forehead　just　below　the　hairline。
The　old　guy　with　the　leg　cast　said　something　in　Urdu。　I　gave　him　a　shrug　and　shook　my　head。　He　pointed　to　his　face；　patted　it；　and　grinned　a　wide；　toothless　grin。　　Very　good；　　he　said　in　English。　　Ins　hallah。　
　Thank　you；　　I　whispered。
Farid　and　Sohrab　came　in　just　as　I　put　the　mirror　away。　Sohrab　took　his　seat　on　the　stool；　rested　his　head　on　the　bed　s　side　rail。
　You　know；　the　sooner　we　get　you　out　of　here　the　better；　　Farid　said。
　Dr。　Faruqi　says……　…
　I　don　t　mean　the　hospital。　I　mean　Peshawar。　
　Why？　
　I　don　t　think　you　ll　be　safe　here　for　long；　　Farid　said。　He　lowered　his　voice。　　The　Taliban　have　friends　here。　They　will　start　looking　for　you。　
　I　think　they　already　may　have；　　I　murmured。　I　thought　suddenly　of　the　bearded　man　who　d　wandered　into　the　room　and　just　stood　there　staring　at　me。
Farid　leaned　in。　　As　soon　as　you　can　walk；　I　ll　take　you　to　Islamabad。　Not　entirely　safe　there　either；　no　place　in　Pakistan　is；　but　it　s　better　than　here。　At　least　it　will　buy　you　some　time。　
　Farid　Jan；　this　can　t　be　safe　for　you　either。　Maybe　you　shouldn　t　be　seen　with　me。　You　have　a　family　to　take　care　of。　
Farid　made　a　waving　gesture。　　My　boys　are　young；　but　they　are　very　shrewd。　They　know　how　to　take　care　of　their　mothers　and　sisters。　　He　smiled。　　Besides；　I　didn　t　say　I　d　do　it　for　free。　
　I　wouldn　t　let　you　if　you　offered；　　I　said。　I　forgot　I　couldn　t
smile　and　tried。　A　tiny　streak　of　blood　trickled　down　my　chin。　　Can　I　ask　you　for　one　more　favor？　
　For　you　a　thousand　times　over；　　Farid　said。
And；　just　like　that；　I　was　crying。　I　hitched　gusts　of　air；　tears　gushing　down　my　cheeks；　stinging　the　raw　flesh　of　my　lips。
　What　s　the　matter？　　Farid　said；　alarmed。
I　buried　my　face　in　one　hand　and　held　up　the　other。　I　knew　the　whole　room　was　watching　me。　After；　I　felt　tired；