the kite runner-第53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！


　the　cheek。
We　sat　in　the　crowded　room；　Baba　and　I　next　to　each　other；　across　from　the　general　and　his　wife。　Baba　s　breathing　had　grown　a　little　ragged；　and　he　kept
wiping　sweat　off　his　forehead　and　scalp　with　his　handkerchief。　He　saw　me　looking　at　him　and　managed　a　strained　grin。　I　m　all　right；　　he　mouthed。
In　keeping　with　tradition；　Soraya　was　not　present。
A　few　moments　of　small　talk　and　idle　chatter　followed　until　the　general　cleared　his　throat。　The　room　became　quiet　and　everyone　looked　down　at　their　hands　in　respect。　The　general　nodded　toward　Baba。
Baba　cleared　his　own　throat。　When　he　began；　he　couldn　t　speak　in　plete　sentences　without　stopping　to　breathe。　　General　Sahib；　Khanum　Jamila　jan。。。　it　s　with　great　humility　that　my　son　and　I。。。　have　e　to　your　home　today。　You　are。。。　honorable　people。。。　from　distinguished　and　reputable　families　and。。。　proud　lineage。　I　e　with　nothing　but　the　utmost　ihtiram。。。　and　the　highest　regards　for　you；　your　family　names；　and　the　memory。。。　of　your　ancestors。　　He　stopped。　Caught　his　breath。　Wiped　his　brow。　　Amirjan　is　my　only　son。。。　my　only　child；　and　he　has　been　a　good　son　to　me。　I　hope　he　proves。。。　worthy　of　your　kindness。　I　ask　that　you　honor　Amir　jan　and　me。。。　and　accept　my　son　into　your　family。　
The　general　nodded　politely。
　We　are　honored　to　wele　the　son　of　a　man　such　as　yourself　into　our　family；　　he　said。　　Your　reputation　precedes　you。　I　was　your　humble　admirer　in　Kabul　and　remain　so　today。　We　are　honored　that　your　family　and　ours　will　be　joined。
　Amirjan；　as　for　you；　I　wele　you　to　my　home　as　a　son；　as　the　husband　of　my　daughter　who　is　the　noor　of　my　eye。　Your　pain　will　be　our　pain；　your　joy　our　joy。　I　hope　that　you　will　e　to　see　your　Khala　Jamila　and　me　as　a　second　set　of　parents；　and　I　pray　for　your　and　our　lovely　Soraya　jan　s　happiness。　You　both　have　our　blessings。　
Everyone　applauded；　and　with　that　signal；　heads　turned　toward　the　hallway。　The　moment　I　d　waited　for。
Soraya　appeared　at　the　end。　Dressed　in　a　stunning　winecolored　traditional　Afghan　dress　with　long　sleeves　and　gold　trimmings。　Baba　s　hand　took　mine　and　tightened。　Khanum　Taheri　burst　into　fresh　tears。　Slowly；　Soraya　caine　to　us；　tailed　by　a　procession　of　young　female　relatives。
She　kissed　my　father　s　hands。　Sat　beside　me　at　last；　her　eyes　downcast。
The　applause　swelled。
ACCORDING　TO　TRADITION；　Soraya　s　family　would　have　thrown　the　engagement　party　the　Shirini…khori………or　　Eating　of　the　Sweets　　ceremony。　Then　an　engagement　period　would　have　followed　which　would　have　lasted　a　few　months。　Then　the　wedding；　which　would　be　paid　for　by　Baba。
We　all　agreed　that　Soraya　and　I　would　forgo　the　Shirini…khori。　Everyone　knew　the　reason；　so　no　one　had　to　actually　say　it：　that　Baba　didn　t　have　months　to　live。
Soraya　and　I　never　went　out　alone　together　while　preparations　for　the　wedding　proceeded……since　we　weren　t　married　yet；　hadn　t　even　had　a　Shirini…khori；　it　was　considered　improper。　So　I　had　to　make　do　with　going　over　to　the　Taheris　with　Baba　for　dinner。　Sit　across　from　Soraya　at　the　dinner　table。　Imagine　what　it
would　be　like　to　feel　her　head　on　my　chest；　smell　her　hair。　Kiss　her。　Make　love　to　her。
Baba　spent　35；000；　nearly　the　balance　of　his　life　savings；　on　the　awroussi；　the　wedding　ceremony。　He　rented　a　large　Afghan　banquet　hail　in　Fremont……the　man　who　owned　it　knew　him　from　Kabul　and　gave　him　a　substantial　discount。　Baba　paid　for　the　？？chi　las；　our　matching　wedding　bands；　and　for　the　diamond　ring　I　picked　out。　He　bought　my　tuxedo；　and　my　traditional　green　suit　for　the　nika……the　swearing　ceremony。　For　all　the　frenzied　preparations　that　went　into　the　wedding　night……most　of　it；　blessedly；　by　Khanum　Taheri　and　her　friends……　I　remember　only　a　handful　of　moments　from　it。
I　remember　our　nika。　We　were　seated　around　a　table；　Soraya　and　I　dressed　in　green……the　color　of　Islam；　but　also　the　color　of　spring　and　new　beginnings。　I　wore　a　suit；　Soraya　（the　only　woman　at　the　table）　a　veiled　long…sleeved　dress。　Baba；　General　Taheri　（in　a　tuxedo　this　time）；　and　several　of　Soraya　s　uncles　were　also　present　at　the　table。　Soraya　and　I　looked　down；　solemnly　respectful；　casting　only　sideway　glances　at　each　other。　The　mullah　questioned　the　witnesses　and　read　from　the　Koran。　We　said　our　oaths。　Signed　the　certificates。　One　of　Soraya　s　uncles　from　Virginia；　Sharif　jan；　Khanum　Taheri　s　brother；　stood　up　and　cleared　his　throat。　Soraya　had　told　me　that　he　had　lived　in　the　U。S。　for　more　than　twenty　years。　He　worked　for　the　INS　and　had　an　American　wife。　He　was　also　a　poet。　A　small　man　with　a　birdlike　face　and　fluffy　hair；　he　read　a　lengthy　poem　dedicated　to　Soraya；　jotted　down　on　hotel　stationery　paper。　　Wah　wah；　Sharifjan！　　everyone　exclaimed　when　he　finished。
I　remember　walking　toward　the　stage；　now　in　my　tuxedo；　Soraya　a　veiled　pan　in　white；　our　hands　locked。　Baba　hobbled　next　to　me；　the　general　and　his　wife　beside　their　daughter。　A　procession　of　uncles；　aunts；　and　cousins　followed　as　we　made　our　way　through　the　hail；　parting　a　sea　of　applauding　guests；　blinking　at　flashing　cameras。　One　of　Soraya　s　cousins；　Sharif　jan　s　son；　held　a　Koran　over　our　heads　as　we　inched　along。　The　wedding　song；