友情提示:如果本网页打开太慢或显示不完整,请尝试鼠标右键“刷新”本网页!
the kite runner-第103部分
快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完,想下次继续接着阅读,可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能!
He had barely said a dozen words since the meeting with Raymond Andrews and my attempts at conversation had only met with a nod or a monosyllabic reply。 He climbed into bed; pulled the blanket to his chin。 Within minutes; he was snoring。
I wiped a circle on the fogged…up mirror and shaved with one of the hotel s old…fashioned razors; the type that opened and you slid the blade in。 Then I took my own bath; lay there until the steaming hot water turned cold and my skin shriveled up。 I lay there drifting; wondering; imagining。。。
OMAR FAISAL WAS CHUBBY; dark; had dimpled cheeks; black button eyes; and an affable; gap…toothed smile。 His thinning gray hair was tied back in a ponytail。 He wore a brown corduroy suit with leather elbow patches and carried a worn; overstuffed briefcase。 The handle was missing; so he clutched the briefcase to his chest。 He was the sort of fellow who started a lot of sentences with a laugh and an unnecessary apology; like I m sorry; I ll be there at five。 Laugh。 When I had called him; he had insisted on ing out to meet us。 I m sorry; the cabbies in this town are sharks; he said in perfect English; without a trace of an accent。 They smell a foreigner; they triple their fares。
He pushed through the door; all smiles and apologies; wheezing a little and sweating。 He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and opened his briefcase; rummaged in it for a notepad and apologized for the sheets of paper that spilled on the bed。 Sitting crosslegged on his bed; Sohrab kept one eye on the muted television; the other on the harried lawyer。 I had told him in the morning that Faisal would be ing and he had nodded; almost asked some thing; and had just gone on watching a show with talking animals。
Here we are; Faisal said; flipping open a yellow legal notepad。 I hope my children take after their mother when it es to organization。 I m sorry; probably not the sort of thing you want to hear from your prospective lawyer; heh? He laughed。
Well; Raymond Andrews thinks highly of you。
Mr。 Andrews。 Yes; yes。 Decent fellow。 Actually; he rang me and told me about
you。
He did?
Oh yes。
So you re familiar with my situation。
Faisal dabbed at the sweat beads above his lips。 I m familiar with the version of the situation you gave Mr。 Andrews; he said。 His cheeks dimpled with a coy smile。 He turned to Sohrab。 This must be the young man who s causing all the trouble; he said in Farsi。
This is Sohrab; I said。 Sohrab; this is Mr。 Faisal; the lawyer I told you about。
Sohrab slid down the side of his bed and shook hands with Omar Faisal。 Salaam alaykum; he said in a low voice。
Alaykum salaam; Sohrab; Faisal said。 Did you know you are named after a great warrior?
Sohrab nodded。 Climbed back onto his bed and lay on his side to watch TV。
I didn t know you spoke Farsi so well; I said in English。 Did you grow up in Kabul?
No; I was born in Karachi。 But I did live in Kabul for a number of years。 Shar…e…Nau; near the Haji Yaghoub Mosque; Faisal said。 I grew up in Berkeley; actually。 My father opened a music store there in the late sixties。 Free love; headbands; tiedyed shirts; you name it。 He leaned forward。 I was at Woodstock。
Groovy; I said; and Faisal laughed so hard he started sweating all over again。 Anyway; I continued; what I told Mr。 Andrews was pretty much it; save for a thing or two。 Or maybe three。 I ll give you the uncensored version。
He licked a finger and flipped to a blank page; uncapped his pen。 I d appreciate that; Amir。 And why don t we just keep it in English from here on out?
Fine。
I told him everything that had happened。 Told him about my meeting with Rahim Khan; the trek to Kabul; the orphanage; the stoning at Ghazi Stadium。
God; he whispered。 I m sorry; I have such fond memories of Kabul。 Hard to believe it s the same place you re telling me about。
Have you been there lately?
God no。
It s not Berkeley; I ll tell you that; I said。
Go on。
I told him the rest; the meeting with Assef; the fight; Sohrab and his slingshot; our escape back to Pakistan。 When I was done; he scribbled a few notes; breathed in deeply; and gave me a sober look。 Well; Amir; you ve got a tough battle ahead of you。
One I can win?
He capped his pen。 At the risk of sounding like Raymond Andrews; it s not likely。 Not impossible; but hardly likely。 Gone was the affable smile; the playful look in his eyes。
But it s kids like Sohrab who need a home the most; I said。 These rules and regulations don t make any sense to me。
You re preaching to the choir; Amir; he said。 But the fact is; take current immigration laws; adoption agency policies; and the political situation in Afghanistan; and the deck is stacked against you。
I don t get it; I said。 I wanted to hit something。 I mean; I get it but I don t get it。
Omar nodded; his brow furrowed。 Well; it s like this。 In the aftermath of a disaster; whether it be natural or man…made……and the Taliban are a disaster; Amir; believe me……it s always difficult to ascertain that a child is an orphan。 Kids get displaced in refugee camps; or parents just abandon them becaus
快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
温馨提示: 温看小说的同时发表评论,说出自己的看法和其它小伙伴们分享也不错哦!发表书评还可以获得积分和经验奖励,认真写原创书评 被采纳为精评可以获得大量金币、积分和经验奖励哦!