the kite runner-第86章

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　whole　room　was　watching　me。　After；　I　felt　tired；　hollow。　　I　m　sorry；　　I　said。　Sohrab　was　looking　at　me　with　a　frown　creasing　his　brow。
When　I　could　talk　again；　I　told　Farid　what　I　needed。　　Rahim　Khan　said　they　live　here　in　Peshawar。　
　Maybe　you　should　write　down　their　names；　　Farid　said；　eyeing　me　cautiously；　as　if　wondering　what　might　set　me　off　next。　I　scribbled　their　names　on　a　scrap　of　paper　towel。　　John　and　Betty　Caldwell。　
Farid　pocketed　the　folded　piece　of　paper。　　I　will　look　for　them　as　soon　as　I　can；　　he　said。　He　turned　to　Sohrab。　　As　for　you；　I　ll　pick　you　up　this　evening。　Don　t　tire　Amir　agha　too　much。　
But　Sohrab　had　wandered　to　the　window；　where　a　half…dozen　pigeons　strutted　back　and　forth　on　the　sill；　pecking　at　wood　and　scraps　of　old　bread。
IN　THE　MIDDLE　DRAWER　of　the　dresser　beside　my　bed；　I　had　found　an　old　_National　Geographic_　magazine；　a　chewed…up　pencil；　a　b　with　missing　teeth；　and　what　I　was　reaching　for　now；　sweat　pouring　down　my　face　from　the　effort：　a　deck　of　cards。　I　had　counted　them　earlier　and；　surprisingly；　found　the　deck　plete。　I
asked　Sohrab　if　he　wanted　to　play。　I　didn　t　expect　him　to　answer；　let　alone　play。　He　d　been　quiet　since　we　had　fled　Kabul。
But　he　turned　from　the　window　and　said；　　The　only　game　I　know　is　panjpar。　
　I　feel　sorry　for　you　already；　because　I　am　a　grand　master　at　panjpar。　World　renowned。　
He　took　his　seat　on　the　stool　next　to　me。　I　dealt　him　his　five　cards。　　When　your　father　and　I　were　your　age；　we　used　to　play　this　game。　Especially　in　the　winter；　when　it　snowed　and　we　couldn　t　go　outside。　We　used　to　play　until　the　sun　went　down。　
He　played　me　a　card　and　picked　one　up　from　the　pile。　I　stole　looks　at　him　as　he　pondered　his　cards。　He　was　his　father　in　so　many　ways：　the　way　he　fanned　out　his　cards　with　both　hands；　the　way　he　squinted　while　reading　them；　the　way　he　rarely　looked　a　person　in　the　eye。
We　played　in　silence。　I　won　the　first　game；　let　him　win　the　next　one；　and　lost　the　next　five　fair　and　square。　　You　re　as　good　as　your　father；　maybe　even　better；　　I　said；　after　my　last　loss。　　I　used　to　beat　him　sometimes；　but　I　think　he　let　me　win。　　I　paused　before　saying；　　Your　father　and　I　were　nursed　by　the　same　woman。　
　I　know。　
　What。。。　what　did　he　tell　you　about　us？　
　That　you　were　the　best　friend　he　ever　had；　　he　said。
I　twirled　the　jack　of　diamonds　in　my　fingers；　flipped　it　back　and　forth。　　I　wasn　t　such　a　good　friend；　I　m　afraid；　　I　said。　　But　I　d　like　to　be　your　friend。　I　think　I　could　be　a　good　friend　to　you。　Would　that　be　all　right？　Would　you　like　that？　　I　put　my　hand　on　his　arm；　gingerly；　but　he　flinched。　He　dropped　his　cards　and　pushed　away　on　the　stool。　He　walked　back　to　the　window。　The　sky　was　awash　with　streaks　of　red　and　purple　as　the　sun　set　on　Peshawar。　From　the　street　below　came　a　succession　of　honks　and　the　braying　of　a　donkey；　the　whistle　of　a　policeman。　Sohrab　stood　in　that　crimson　light；　forehead　pressed　to　the　glass；　fists　buried　in　his　armpits。
AISHA　HAD　A　MALE　ASSISTANT　help　me　take　my　first　steps　that　night。　I　only　walked　around　the　room　once；　one　hand　clutching　the　wheeled　IV　stand；　the　other　clasping　the　assistant　s　fore　arm。　It　took　me　ten　minutes　to　make　it　back　to　bed；　and；　by　then；　the　incision　on　my　stomach　throbbed　and　I　d　broken　out　in　a　drenching　sweat。　I　lay　in　bed；　gasping；　my　heart　hammering　in　my　ears；　thinking　how　much　I　missed　my　wife。
Sohrab　and　I　played　panjpar　most　of　the　next　day；　again　in　silence。　And　the　day　after　that。　We　hardly　spoke；　just　played　panjpar；　me　propped　in　bed；　he　on　the　three…legged　stool；　our　routine　broken　only　by　my　taking　a　walk　around　the　room；　or　going　to　the　bathroom　down　the　hall。　I　had　a　dream　later　that　night。　I　dreamed　Assef　was　standing　in　the　doorway　of　my　hospital　room；　brass　ball　still　in　his　eye　socket。　　We　re　the　same；　you　and　I；　　he　was　saying。　　You　nursed　with　him；　but　you　re　my　twin。　
I　TOLD　ARMAND　early　that　next　day　that　I　was　leaving。
　It　s　still　early　for　discharge；　　Armand　protested。　He　wasn　t　dressed　in　surgical　scrubs　that　day；　instead　in　a　button…down　navy　blue　suit　and　yellow　tie。　The　gel　was　back　in　the　hair。　　You　are　still　in　intravenous　antibiotics　and……　
　I　have　to　go；　　I　said。　　I　appreciate　everything　you　ve　done　for　me；　all　of　you。　Really。　But　I　have　to　leave。　
　Where　will　you　go？　　Armand　said。
　I　d　rather　not　say。　
　You　can　hardly　walk。　
　I　can　walk　to　the　end　of　the　hall　and　back；　　I　said。　　I　ll　b　fine。　　The　plan　was　this：　Leave　the　hospital。　Get　the　money　fror　the　safe…deposit　box　and　pay　my　medical　bills。　Drive　to　the　orphanage　and　drop　Sohrab　off　with　John　and　Betty　Caldwell　Then　get　a　ride　to　Islamabad　and　change　travel　plans。　Give　mysel　a　few　more　days　to　get　better。　Fly　home。
That　was　the　plan；　anyway。　Until　Farid　and　Sohrab　arrived　tha　morning。　　Your　friends；　this　John　and　Betty　Caldwell；　they　aren　　in　Peshawar；　　Farid　said。
It　had　taken　me　ten　minutes　Just　to　slip　into　my　pirhan　tumban。　My　chest；　where　they　d　cut　me　to　insert　the　chest　tube　hurt　when　I　raised　my　arm；　and　my　stomach　throbbed　every　time　I　leaned　over。　I　was　drawing　ragged　breaths　just　from　the　effort　of　packing　a　few　of　my　belongings　into　a　brown　paper　bag。　But　I　d　managed　to　get　ready　and　was　sitting　on　the　edge　of　the　bed　when　Farid　came　in　with　the　news。　Sohrab　sat　on　the　bed　next　to　me。
　Where　did　they　go？　　I　asked。
Farid　shook　his　head。　　You　don　t　understand……　
　Because　Rahim　Khan　said……　
　I　went　to　the　U。S。　consulate；　　Farid　said；　picking　up　my　bag。　　There　never　was　a　John　and　Betty　Caldwell　in　Peshawar。　According　to　the　people　at　the　consulate；　they　never　existed。　Not　here　in　Peshawar；　anyhow。　
Next　to　me；　Sohrab　was　flip