the kite runner-第98章
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the nurses station。 The light slants into the room; aims my shadow toward Sohrab。 He hasn t moved。
You d do well to get some sleep; a nurse says to me。 I don t recognize her……there must have been a shift change while I d napped。 She takes me to another
lounge; this one just outside the ICU。 It s empty。 She hands me a pillow and a hospital…issue blanket。 I thank her and lie on the vinyl sofa in the corner of the lounge。 I fall asleep almost immediately。
I dream I am back in the lounge downstairs。 Dr。 Nawaz walks in and I rise to meet him。 He takes off his paper mask; his hands suddenly whiter than I remembered; his nails manicured; he has
neatly parted hair; and I see he is not Dr。 Nawaz at all but Raymond Andrews; the little embassy man with the potted tomatoes。 Andrews cocks his head。 Narrows his eyes。
IN THE DAYTIME; the hospital was a maze of teeming; angled hallways; a blur of blazing…white overhead fluorescence。 I came to know its layout; came to know that the fourth…floor button in the east wing elevator didn t light up; that the door to the men s room on that same floor was jammed and you had to ram your shoulder into it to open it。 I came to know that hospital life has a rhythm; the flurry of activity just before the morning shift change; the midday hustle; the stillness and quiet of the late…night hours interrupted occasionally by a blur of doctors and nurses rushing to revive someone。 I kept vigil at Sohrab s bedside in the daytime and wandered through the hospital s serpentine corridors at night; listening to my shoe heels clicking on the tiles; thinking of what I would say to Sohrab when he woke up。 I d end up back in the ICU; by the whooshing ventilator beside his bed; and I d be no closer to knowing。
After three days in the ICU; they withdrew the breathing tube and transferred him to a ground…level bed。 I wasn t there when they moved him。 I had gone back to the hotel that night to get some sleep and ended up tossing around in bed all night。 In the morning; I tried to not look at the bathtub。 It was clean now; someone had wiped off the blood; spread new floor mats on the floor; and scrubbed the walls。 But I couldn t stop myself from sitting on its cool; porcelain edge。 I pictured Sohrab filling it with warm water。 Saw him undressing。 Saw him twisting the razor handle and opening the twin safety latches on the head; sliding the blade out; holding it between his thumb and forefinger。 I pictured him lowering himself into the water; lying there for a while; his eyes closed。 I wondered what his last thought had been as he had raised the blade and brought it down。
I was exiting the lobby when the hotel manager; Mr。 Fayyaz; caught up with me。 I am very sorry for you; he said; but I am asking for you to leave my hotel; please。 This is bad for my business; very bad。
I told him I understood and I checked out。 He didn t charge me for the three days I d spent at the hospital。 Waiting for a cab outside the hotel lobby; I thought about what Mr。 Fayyaz had said to me that night we d gone looking for Sohrab: The thing about you Afghanis is that。。。 well; you people are a little reckless。 I had laughed at him; but now I wondered。 Had I actually gone to sleep after I had given Sohrab the news he feared most?
When I got in the cab; I asked the driver if he knew any Persian bookstores。 He said there was one a couple of kilometers south。 We stopped there on the way to the hospital。
SOHRAB S NEW ROOM had cream…colored walls; chipped; dark gray moldings; and glazed tiles that might have once been white。 He shared the room with a teenaged Punjabi boy who; I later learned from one of the nurses; had broken his leg when
he had slipped off the roof of a moving bus。 His leg was in a cast; raised and held bytongs strapped to several weights。
Sohrab s bed was next to the window; the lower half lit by the late…morning sunlight streaming through the rectangular panes。 A uniformed security guard was standing at the window; munching on cooked watermelon seeds……Sohrab was under twenty…four hours…a…day suicide watch。 Hospital protocol; Dr。 Nawaz had informed me。 The guard tipped his hat when he saw me and left the room。
Sohrab was wearing short…sleeved hospital pajamas and lying on his back; blanket pulled to his chest; face turned to the window。 I thought he was sleeping; but when I scooted a chair up to his bed his eyelids fluttered and opened。 He looked at me; then looked away。 He was so pale; even with all the blood they had given him; and there was a large purple bruise in the crease of his right arm。
How are you? I said。
He didn t answer。 He was looking through the window at a fenced…in sandbox and swing set in the hospital garden。 There was an arch…shaped trellis near the playground; in the shadow of a row of hibiscus trees; a few green vines climbing up the timber lattice。 A handful of kids were playing with buckets and pails in the sand box。 The sky was a cloudless blue that day; and I saw a tiny jet leaving behind twin white trails。 I turned back to Sohrab。 I spoke to Dr。 Nawaz a few minutes ago and he thinks you ll be discharged in a couple of days。 That s good news; nay?
Again I was met by silence。 The Punjabi boy at the other end of the room stirred in his sleep and moaned something。 I like your room; I said; trying not to look at Sohrab s bandaged wrists。 It s bright; and you have a view。 Silence。 A few more awkward minutes passed; and a light sweat formed on my brow; my upper lip。 I pointed to the untouched bowl of green pea aush on his nightstand; the unused plastic spoon。 You should try to eat some thing。 Gain your quwat back; your strength。 Do you wa