the kite runner-第104部分

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refugee　camps；　or　parents　just　abandon　them　because　they　can　t　take　care　of　them。　Happens　all　the　time。　So　the　INS　won　t　grant　a　visa　unless　it　s　clear　the　child　meets　the　definition　of　an　eligible　orphan。　I　m　sorry；　I　know　it　sounds　ridiculous；　but　you　need　death　certificates。　
　You　ve　been　to　Afghanistan；　　I　said。　　You　know　how　improbable　that　is。　
　I　know；　　he　said。　　But　let　s　suppose　it　s　clear　that　the　child　has　no　surviving　parent。　Even　then；　the　INS　thinks　it　s　good　adoption　practice　to　place　the　child　with　someone　in　his　own　country　so　his　heritage　can　be　preserved。　
　What　heritage？　　I　said。　　The　Taliban　have　destroyed　what　heritage　Afghans　had。　You　saw　what　they　did　to　the　giant　Buddhas　in　Bamiyan。　
　I　m　sorry；　I　m　telling　you　how　the　INS　works；　Amir；　　Omar　said；　touching　my　arm。　He　glanced　at　Sohrab　and　smiled。　Turned　back　to　me。　　Now；　a　child　has　to　be　legally　adopted　according　to　the　laws　and　regulations　of　his　own　country。　But　when　you　have　a　country　in　turmoil；　say　a　country　like　Afghanistan；　government　offices　are　busy　with　emergencies；　and　processing　adoptions　won　t　be　a　top　priority。　
I　sighed　and　rubbed　my　eyes。　A　pounding　headache　was　settling　in　just　behind　them。
　But　let　s　suppose　that　somehow　Afghanistan　gets　its　act　together；　　Omar　said；　crossing　his　arms　on　his　protruding　belly。　　It　still　may　not　permit　this　adoption。　In　fact；　even　the　more　moderate　Muslim　nations　are　hesitant　with　adoptions　because　in　many　of　those　countries；　Islamic　law；　Shari　a；　doesn　t　recognize　adoption。　
　You　re　telling　me　to　give　it　up？　　I　asked；　pressing　my　palm　to　my　forehead。
　I　grew　up　in　the　U。S。；　Amir。　If　America　taught　me　anything；　it　s　that　quitting　is　right　up　there　with　pissing　in　the　Girl　Scouts　　lemonade　jar。　But；　as　your　lawyer；　I　have　to　give　you　the　facts；　　he　said。　　Finally；　adoption　agencies　routinely　send　staff　members　to　evaluate　the　child　s　milieu；　and　no　reasonable　agency　is　going　to　send　an　agent　to　Afghanistan。　
I　looked　at　Sohrab　sitting　on　the　bed；　watching　TV；　watching　us。　He　was　sitting　the　way　his　father　used　to；　chin　resting　on　one　knee。
　I　m　his　half　uncle；　does　that　count　for　anything？　
　It　does　if　you　can　prove　it。　I　m　sorry；　do　you　have　any　papers　or　anyone　who　can　support　you？　
　No　papers；　　I　said；　in　a　tired　voice。　　No　one　knew　about　it。　Sohrab　didn　t　know　until　I　told　him；　and　I　myself　didn　t　find　out　until　recently。　The　only　other　person　who　knows　is　gone；　maybe　dead。　
　What　are　my　options；　Omar？　
　I　ll　be　frank。　You　don　t　have　a　lot　of　them。　
　Well；　Jesus；　what　can　I　do？　
Omar　breathed　in；　tapped　his　chin　with　the　pen；　let　his　breath　out。　　You　could　still　file　an　orphan　petition；　hope　for　the　best。　You　could　do　an　independent　adoption。　That　means　you　d　have　to　live　with　Sohrab　here　in　Pakistan；　day　in　and　day　out；　for　the　next　two　years。　You　could　seek　asylum　on　his　behalf。　That　s　a　lengthy　process　and　you　d　have　to　prove　political　persecution。　You　could　request　a　humanitarian　visa。　That　s　at　the　discretion　of　the　attorney　general　and　it　s　not　easily　given。　　He　paused。　　There　is　another　option；　probably　your　best　shot。　
　What？　　I　said；　leaning　forward。
　You　could　relinquish　him　to　an　orphanage　here；　then　file　an　orphan　petition。　Start　your　I…600　form　and　your　home　study　while　he　s　in　a　safe　place。　
　What　are　those？　
　I　m　sorry；　the　1…600　is　an　INS　formality。　The　home　study　is　done　by　the　adoption　agency　you　choose；　　Omar　said。　　It　s；　you　know；　to　make　sure　you　and　your　wife　aren　t　raving　lunatics。　
　I　don　t　want　to　do　that；　　I　said；　looking　again　at　Sohrab。　　I　promised　him　I　wouldn　t　send　him　back　to　an　orphanage。　
　Like　I　said；　it　may　be　your　best　shot。　
We　talked　a　while　longer。　Then　I　walked　him　out　to　his　car；　an　old　VW　Bug。　The　sun　was　setting　on　Islamabad　by　then；　a　flaming　red　nimbus　in　the　west。　I　watched　the　car　tilt　under　Omar　s　weight　as　he　somehow　managed　to　slide　in　behind　the　wheel。　He　rolled　down　the　window。　　Amir？　
　Yes。　
　I　meant　to　tell　you　in　there；　about　what　you　re　trying　to　do？　I　think　it　s　pretty　great。　
He　waved　as　he　pulled　away。　Standing　outside　the　hotel　room　and　waving　back；　I　wished　Soraya　could　be　there　with　me。
SOHRAB　HAD　TURNED　OFF　THE　TV　when　l　went　back　into　the　room。　I　sat　on　the　edge　of　my　bed；　asked　him　to　sit　next　to　me。　　Mr。　Faisal　thinks　there　is　a　way　I　can　take　you　to　America　with　me；　　I　said。
　He　does？　　Sohrab　said；　smiling　faintly　for　the　first　time　in　days。　　When　can　we　go？　
　Well；　that　s　the　thing。　It　might　take　a　little　while。　But　he　said　it　can　be　done　and　he　s　going　to　help　us。　　I　put　my　hand　on　the　back　of　his　neck。　From　outside；　the　call　to　prayer　blared　through　the　streets。
　How　long？　　Sohrab　asked。
　I　don　t　know。　A　while。　
Sohrab　shrugged　and　smiled；　wider　this　time。　　I　don　t　mind。　I　can　wait。　It　s　like　the　sour　apples。　
　Sour　apples？　
　One　time；　when　I　was　really　little；　I　climbed　a　tree　and　ate　these　green；　sour　apples。　My　stomach　swelled　and　became　hard　like　a　drum；　it　hurt　a　lot。　Mother　said　that　if　I　d　just　waited　for　the　apples　to　ripen；　I　wouldn　t　have　bee　sick。　So　now；　whenever　I　really　want　something；　I　try　to　remember　what　she　said　about　the　ap