雙語名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(93)

12歲的阿富汗富家少爺阿米爾與仆人哈桑情同手足。然而，在一場風(fēng)箏比賽后，發(fā)生了一件悲慘不堪的事，阿米爾為自己的懦弱感到自責(zé)和痛苦，逼走了哈桑，不久，自己也跟隨父親逃往美國。

成年后的阿米爾始終無法原諒自己當(dāng)年對哈桑的背叛。為了贖罪，阿米爾再度踏上暌違二十多年的故鄉(xiāng)，希望能為不幸的好友盡最后一點心力，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)一個驚天謊言，兒時的噩夢再度重演，阿米爾該如何抉擇?

故事如此殘忍而又美麗，作者以溫暖細(xì)膩的筆法勾勒人性的本質(zhì)與救贖，讀來令人蕩氣回腸。

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I smiled. “Okay.” I gave him the phone and the little black notebook where Baba had scribbled his Afghan friends’ numbers. He looked up the Taheris. Dialed. Brought the receiver to his ear. My heart was doing pirouettes in my chest.
“Jamila jan? Salaam alaykum,” he said. He introduced himself. Paused. “Much better, thank you. It was so gracious of you to come.” He listened for a while. Nodded. “I’ll remember that, thank you. Is General Sahib home?” Pause. “Thank you.”
His eyes flicked to me. I wanted to laugh for some reason. Or scream. I brought the ball of my hand to my mouth and bit on it. Baba laughed softly through his nose.
“General Sahib, Salaam alaykum... Yes, much much better... Balay... You’re so kind. General Sahib, I’m calling to ask if I may pay you and Khanum Taheri a visit tomorrow morning. It’s an honorable matter... Yes... Eleven o’clock is just fine. Until then. Khoda h?fez.”
He hung up. We looked at each other. I burst into giggles. Baba joined in.
BABA WET HIS HAIR and combed it back. I helped him into a clean white shirt and knotted his tie for him, noting the two inches of empty space between the collar button and Baba’s neck. I thought of all the empty spaces Baba would leave behind when he was gone, and I made myself think of something else. He wasn’t gone. Not yet. And this was a day for good thoughts. The jacket of his brown suit, the one he’d worn to my graduation, hung over him--too much of Baba had melted away to fill it anymore. I had to roll up the sleeves. I stooped and tied his shoelaces for him.
The Taheris lived in a flat, one-story house in one of the residential areas in Fremont known for housing a large number of Afghans. It had bay windows, a pitched roof, and an enclosed front porch on which I saw potted geraniums. The general’s gray van was parked in the driveway.
I helped Baba out of the Ford and slipped back behind the wheel. He leaned in the passenger window. “Be home, I’ll call you in an hour.”
“Okay, Baba,” I said. “Good luck.”
He smiled.
I drove away. In the rearview mirror, Baba was hobbling up the Taheris’ driveway for one last fatherly duty.
I PACED THE LIVING ROOM of our apartment waiting for Baba’s call. Fifteen paces long. Ten and a half paces wide. What if the general said no? What if he hated me? I kept going to the kitchen, checking the oven clock.
The phone rang just before noon. It was Baba.
“Well?”
“The general accepted.”
I let out a burst of air. Sat down. My hands were shaking. “He did?”
“Yes, but Soraya jan is upstairs in her room. She wants to talk to you first.”
“Okay.”
Baba said something to someone and there was a double click as he hung up.
“Amir?” Soraya’s voice. “Salaam.”
“My father said yes.”
“I know,” I said. I switched hands. I was smiling. “I’m so happy I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m happy too, Amir. I... can’t believe this is happening.”
I laughed. “I know.”
“Listen,” she said, “I want to tell you something. Something you have to know before...”
“I don’t care what it is.”
“You need to know. I don’t want us to start with secrets. And I’d rather you hear it from me.”
“If it will make you feel better, tell me. But it won’t change anything.”
There was a long pause at the other end. “When we lived in Virginia, I ran away with an Afghan man. I was eighteen at the time... rebellious... stupid, and... he was into drugs... We lived together for almost a month. All the Afghans in Virginia were talking about it.
“Padar eventually found us. He showed up at the door and... made me come home. I was hysterical. Yelling. Screaming. Saying I hated him...

我微笑:“好的?！蔽野央娫捊o他，還有爸爸用來記錄他那些阿富汗朋友的電話號碼的本子。他找到塔赫里的號碼。撥號。把聽筒提到耳邊。我的心臟在胸口怦怦跳。
“親愛的雅米拉?晚上好?！彼f，他表明身份。停下?！昂枚嗔?，謝謝你。你去看望我，真是太謝謝了?！彼犃艘粫?，點點頭，“我會記住的，謝謝。將軍大人在家嗎?”停下。“謝謝。”
他的眼光射向我。不知何故我直想發(fā)笑，或者尖叫。我的手握成拳頭，塞在嘴里，咬著它。爸爸輕輕哼笑。
“將軍大人，晚上好……是的，好多了好多了……好的……你太好了。將軍大人，我打電話來，是想問，明天早上我可不可以去拜訪你和塔赫里太太，有件很榮譽的事情……是的……十一點剛剛好。到時見。再見?！?br />他掛上電話。我們看著對方。我突然笑起來，爸爸也跟著加入。
爸爸弄濕頭發(fā)，將其朝后梳。我?guī)退┥细蓛舻陌滓r衫，替他打好領(lǐng)帶，發(fā)現(xiàn)領(lǐng)口的紐扣和爸爸的脖子之間多出了兩英寸的空間。我在想當(dāng)爸爸逝去，該留下多大的虛空。我強迫自己想別的。他沒逝去，還沒有，今天應(yīng)該想些美好的事情。他那套棕色西裝的上衣，我畢業(yè)那天他穿著那件，松松垮垮掛在他身上——爸爸消瘦得太厲害了，再也不合身了。我只好把袖子卷起來。我彎腰替他綁好鞋帶。
塔赫里一家住在一座單層的平房里面，那一帶是弗里蒙特知名的阿富汗人聚居地。那房子有凸窗，斜屋頂，還有個圍起的門廊，我看見上面有幾株天竺葵。
我扶爸爸下福特車，再溜回車?yán)铩Ｋ兄瘪{駛座的車窗:“回家去吧，過一個小時我打電話給你?！?br />“好的，爸爸。”我說，“好運?！?br />他微笑。
我驅(qū)車離開。透過觀后鏡，爸爸正走上塔赫里家的車道，盡最后一次為人父的責(zé)任。
我在我們住所的客廳走來走去，等待爸爸的電話。客廳長15步，寬10步半。如果將軍拒絕怎么辦?要是他討厭我那又如何?我不停走進(jìn)廚房，查看烤爐上的時鐘。
快到中午的時候電話響起。是爸爸。
“怎么樣?”
“將軍同意了。”
我松了一口氣。坐下，雙手顫抖?！八饬?”
“是的。不過親愛的索拉雅在閣樓她的房間里面，她想先跟你談?wù)劇！?br />“好的?！?br />爸爸對某個人說了幾句話，接著傳來兩下按鍵聲，他掛了電話。
“阿米爾?”索拉雅的聲音。“你好。”
“我爸爸同意了?！?br />“我知道?！蔽艺f，換手握住聽筒。我在微笑?！拔姨吲d了，不知道說什么?！?br />“我也很高興，阿米爾。我……我無法相信這是真的?！?br />我大笑:“我知道?！?br />“聽著，”她說,“我想告訴你一些事情。一些你必須事先知道的事情……”
“我不在乎那是什么?！?br />“你必須知道。我不想我們一開始就有秘密，而且我寧愿親口告訴你?！?br />“如果那會讓你覺得好一些，你就告訴我吧。但是它不會改變?nèi)魏问虑椤！?br />電話那端沉默了好久?！拔覀冊诟ゼ醽喩畹臅r候，我跟一個阿富汗人私奔了。那時我十八歲……很叛逆……愚蠢……他吸毒……我們同居了將近一個月。弗吉尼亞所有的阿富汗人議論紛紛?！?br />“最后爸爸找到我們。他站在門口……要我回家。我歇斯底里，哭喊，尖叫，說我恨他……”