the kite runner-第124部分
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r hand and asked if we could eat。 I opened the paper bag and gave him his meatball sandwich。 My lunch consisted of yet another cup of blended bananas and oranges……I d rented Mrs。 Fayyaz s blender for the week。 I sucked through the straw and my mouth filled with the sweet; blended fruit。 Some of it dripped from the corner of my lips。 Sohrab handed me a napkin and watched me dab at my lips。 I smiled and he smiled back。
Your father and I were brothers; I said。 It just came out。 I had wanted to tell him the night we had sat by the mosque; but I hadn t。 But he had a right to know; I didn t want to hide anything anymore。 Half brothers; really。 We had the same father。
Sohrab stopped chewing。 Put the sandwich down。 Father never said he had a brother。
That s because he didn t know。
Why didn t he know?
No one told him; I said。 No one told me either。 I just found out recently。
Sohrab blinked。 Like he was looking at me; really looking at me; for the very first time。 But why did people hide it from Father and you?
You know; I asked myself that same question the other day。 And there s an answer; but not a good one。 Let s just say they didn t tell us because your father and I。。。 we weren t supposed to be brothers。
Because he was a Hazara?
I willed my eyes to stay on him。 Yes。
Did your father; he began; eyeing his food; did your father love you and my father equally?
I thought of a long ago day at Ghargha Lake; when Baba had allowed himself to pat Hassan on the back when Hassan s stone had outskipped mine。 I pictured Baba in the hospital room; beaming as they removed the bandages from Hassan s lips。 I think he loved us equally but differently。
Was he ashamed of my father?
No; I said。 I think he was ashamed of himself。
He picked up his sandwich and nibbled at it silently。
WE LEFT LATE THAT AFTERNOON; tired from the heat; but tired in a pleasant way。 All the way back; I felt Sohrab watching me。 I had the driver pull over at a store that sold calling cards。 I gave him the money and a tip for running in and buying me one。
That night; we were lying on our beds; watching a talk show on TV。 Two clerics with pepper gray long beards and white turbans were taking calls from the faithful all over the world。 One caller from Finland; a guy named Ayub; asked if his teenaged son could go to hell for wearing his baggy pants so low the seam of his underwear showed。
I saw a picture of San Francisco once; Sohrab said。
Really?
There was a red bridge and a building with a pointy top。
You should see the streets; I said。
What about them? He was looking at me now。 On the TV screen; the two mullahs were consulting each other。
They re so steep; when you drive up all you see is the hood of your car and the sky; I said。
It sounds scary; he said。 He rolled to his side; facing me; his back to the TV。
It is the first few times; I said。 But you get used to it。
Does it snow there?
No; but we get a lot of fog。 You know that red bridge you saw?
Yes。
Sometimes the fog is so thick in the morning; all you see is the tip of the two towers poking through。
There was wonder in his smile。 Oh。
Sohrab?
Yes。
Have you given any thought to what I asked you before?
His smiled faded。 He rolled to his back。 Laced his hands under his head。 The mullahs decided that Ayub s son would go to hell after all for wearing his pants the way he did。 They claimed it was in the Haddith。 I ve thought about it; Sohrab said。
And?
It scares me。
I know it s a little scary; I said; grabbing onto that loose thread of hope。 But you ll learn English so fast and you ll get used to……
That s not what I mean。 That scares me too; but。。。
But what?
He rolled toward me again。 Drew his knees up。 What if you get tired of me? What if your wife doesn t like me?
I struggled out of bed and crossed the space between us。 I sat beside him。 I won t ever get tired of you; Sohrab; I said。 Not ever。 That s a promise。 You re my nephew; remember? And Soraya jan; she s a very kind woman。 Trust me; she s going to love you。 I promise that too。 I chanced somet