the kite runner-第19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！


n…one　of　them　I　recognized　as　Assef　s　father。　Through　the　wall；　I　could　hear　the　scratchy　sound　of　Radio　Kabul　News。
Hassan　killed　the　six　and　picked　up　the　jacks。　On　the　radio；　Daoud　Khan　was　announcing　something　about　foreign　investments。
　He　says　someday　we　ll　have　television　in　Kabul；　　I　said。
　Who？　
　Daoud　Khan；　you　ass；　the　president。　
Hassan　giggled。　　I　heard　they　already　have　it　in　Iran；　　he　said。　I　sighed。　　Those　Iranians。。。　　For　a　lot　of　Hazaras；　Iran　represented　a　sanctuary　of　sorts……I　guess　because；　like　Hazaras；　most　Iranians　were　Shi　a　Muslims。　But　I　remembered　something　my　teacher　had　said　that　summer　about　Iranians；　that　they　were　grinning　smooth　talkers　who　patted　you　on　the　back　with　one　hand　and　picked　your　pocket　with　the　other。　I　told　Baba　about　that　and　he　said　my　teacher　was　one　of　those　jealous　Afghans；　jealous　because　Iran　was　a　rising　power　in　Asia　and　most　people　around　the　world　couldn　t　even　find　Afghanistan　on　a　world　map。　　It　hurts　to　say　that；　　he　said；　shrugging。　　But　better　to　get　hurt　by　the　truth　than　forted　with　a　lie。　
　I　ll　buy　you　one　someday；　　I　said。
Hassan　s　face　brightened。　　A　television？　In　truth？　
　Sure。　And　not　the　black…and…white　kind　either。　We　ll　probably　be　grown…ups　by　then；　but　I　ll　get　us　two。　One　for　you　and　one　for　me。　
　I　ll　put　it　on　my　table；　where　I　keep　my　drawings；　　Hassan　said。
His　saying　that　made　me　kind　of　sad。　Sad　for　who　Hassan　was；　where　he　lived。　For　how　he　d　accepted　the　fact　that　he　d　grow　old　in　that　mud　shack　in　the　yard；　the　way　his　father　had。　I　drew　the　last　card；　played　him　a　pair　of　queens　and　a　ten。
Hassan　picked　up　the　queens。　　You　know；　I　think　you　re　going　to　make　Agha　sahib　very　proud　tomorrow。　
　You　think　so？　
　_Inshallah_；　　he　said。
　_Inshallah_；　I　echoed；　though　the　　God　willing　　qualifier　didn　t　sound　as　sincere　ing　from　my　lips。　That　was　the　thing　with　Hassan。　He　was　so　goddamn　pure；　you　always　felt　like　a　phony　around　him。
I　killed　his　king　and　played　him　my　final　card；　the　ace　of　spades。　He　had　to　pick　it　up。　I　d　won；　but　as　I　shuffled　for　a　new　game；　I　had　the　distinct　suspicion　that　Hassan　had　let　me　win。
　Amir　agha？　
　What？　
　You　know。。。　I　_like_　where　I　live。　　He　was　always　doing　that；　reading　my　mind。　　It　s　my　home。　
　Whatever；　　I　said。　　Get　ready　to　lose　again。　
SEVEN
The　next　morning；　as　he　brewed　black　tea　for　breakfast；　Hassan　told　me　he　d　had　a　dream。　　We　were　at　Ghargha　Lake；　you；　me；　Father；　Agha　sahib；　Rahim　Khan；　and　thousands　of　other　people；　　he　said。　　It　was　warm　and　sunny；　and　the　lake　was　clear　like　a　mirror。　But　no　one　was　swimming　because　they　said　a　monster　had　e　to　the　lake。　It　was　swimming　at　the　bottom；　waiting。　
He　poured　me　a　cup　and　added　sugar；　blew　on　it　a　few　times。　Put　it　before　me。　　So　everyone　is　scared　to　get　in　the　water；　and　suddenly　you　kick　off　your　shoes；　Amir　agha；　and　take　off　your　shirt。　　There　s　no　monster；　　you　say。　　I　ll　show　you　all。　　And　before　anyone　can　stop　you；　you　dive　into　the　water；　start　swimming　away。　I　follow　you　in　and　we　re　both　swimming。　
　But　you　can　t　swim。　
Hassan　laughed。　　It　s　a　dream；　Amir　agha；　you　can　do　anything。　Anyway；　everyone　is　screaming；　　Get　out！　Get　out！　　but　we　just　swim　in　the　cold　water。　We　make　it　way　out　to　the　middle　of　the　lake　and　we　stop　swimming。　We　turn　toward　the　shore　and　wave　to　the　people。　They　look　small　like　ants；　but　we　can　hear　them　clapping。　They　see　now。　There　is　no　monster；　just　water。　They　change　the　name　of　the　lake　after　that；　and　call　it　the　　Lake　of　Amir　and　Hassan；　Sultans　of　Kabul；　　and　we　get　to　charge　people　money　for　swimming　in　it。　
　So　what　does　it　mean？　　I　said。
He　coated　my　_naan_　with　marmalade；　placed　it　on　a　plate。　　I　don　t　know。　I　was　hoping　you　could　tell　me。　
　Well；　it　s　a　dumb　dream。　Nothing　happens　in　it。　
　Father　says　dreams　always　mean　something。　
I　sipped　some　tea。　　Why　don　t　you　ask　him；　then？　He　s　so　smart；　　I　said；　more　curtly　than　I　had　intended。　I　hadn　t　slept　all　night。　My　neck　and　back　were　like　coiled　springs；　and　my　eyes　stung。　Still；　I　had　been　mean　to　Hassan。　I　almost　apologized；　then　didn　t。　Hassan　understood　I　was　just　nervous。　Hassan　always　understood　about　me。
Upstairs；　I　could　hear　the　water　running　in　Baba　s　bathroom。
THE　STREETS　GLISTENED　with　fresh　snow　and　the　sky　was　a　blameless　blue。　Snow　blanketed　every　rooftop　and　weighed　on　the　branches　of　the　stunted　mulberry　trees　that　lined　our　street。　Overnight；　snow　had　nudged　its　way　into　every　crack　and　gutter。　I　squinted　against　the　blinding　white　when　Hassan　and　I　stepped　through　the　wrought…iron　gates。　Ali　shut　the　gates　behind　us。　I　heard　him　mutter　a　prayer　under　his　breath……he　always　said　a　prayer　when　his　son　left　the　house。
I　had　never　seen　so　many　people　on　our　street。　Kids　were　flinging　snowballs；　squabbling；　chasing　one　another；　giggling。　Kite　fighters　were　huddling　with　their　spool　holders；　making　lastminute　preparations。　From　adjacent　streets；　I　could　hear　laughter　and　chatter。　Already；　rooftops　were　jammed　with　spectators　reclining　in　lawn　chairs；　hot　tea　steaming　from　thermoses；　and　the　music　of　Ahmad　Zahir　blaring　from　cassette　players。　The　immensely