the kite runner-第137部分

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As　I　waited　for　his　reply；　my　mind　flashed　back　to　a　winter　day　from　long　ago；　Hassan　and　I　sitting　on　the　snow　beneath　a　leafless　sour　cherry　tree。　I　had　played　a　cruel　game　with　Hassan　that　day；　toyed　with　him；　asked　him　if　he　would　chew　dirt　to　prove　his　loyalty　to　me。　Now　I　was　the　one　under　the　microscope；　the　one　who　had　to　prove　my　worthiness。　I　deserved　this。
Sohrab　rolled　to　his　side；　his　back　to　me。　He　didn　t　say　anything　for　a　long　time。　And　then；　just　as　I　thought　he　might　have　drifted　to　sleep；　he　said　with　a　croak；　　I　am　so　khasta。　　So　very　tired。　I　sat　by　his　bed　until　he　fell　asleep。　Something　was　lost　between　Sohrab　and　me。　Until　my　meeting　with　the　lawyer；　Omar　Faisal；　a　light　of　hope　had　begun　to　enter　Sohrab　s　eyes　like　a　timid　guest。　Now　the　light　was　gone；　the　guest　had　fled；　and　I　wondered　when　it　would　dare　return。　I　wondered　how　long　before　Sohrab　smiled　again。　How　long　before　he　trusted　me。　If　ever。
So　I　left　the　room　and　went　looking　for　another　hotel；　unaware　that　almost　a　year　would　pass　before　I　would　hear　Sohrab　speak　another　word。
IN　THE　END；　Sohrab　never　accepted　my　offer。　Nor　did　he　decline　it。　But　he　knew　that　when　the　bandages　were　removed　and　the　hospital　garments　returned；　he　was　just　another　homeless　Hazara　orphan。　What　choice　did　he　have？　Where　could　he　go？　So　what　I　took　as　a　yes　from　him　was　in　actuality　more　of　a　quiet　surrender；　not　so　much　an　acceptance　as　an　act　of　relinquishment　by　one　too　weary　to　decide；　and　far　too　tired　to　believe。　What　he　yearned　for　was　his　old　life。　What　he　got　was　me　and　America。　Not　that　it　was　such　a　bad　fate；　everything　considered；　but　I　couldn　t　tell　him　that。　Perspective　was　a　luxury　when　your　head　was　constantly　buzzing　with　a　swarm　of　demons。
And　so　it　was　that；　about　a　week　later；　we　crossed　a　strip　of　warm；　black　tarmac　and　I　brought　Hassan　s　son　from　Afghanistan　to　America；　lifting　him　from　the　certainty　of　turmoil　and　dropping　him　in　a　turmoil　of　uncertainty。
ONE　DAY；　maybe　around　1983　or　1984；　I　was　at　a　video　store　in　Fremont。　I　was　standing　in　the　Westerns　section　when　a　guy　next　to　me；　sipping　Coke　from　a　7…Eleven　cup；　pointed　to　_The　Magnificent　Seven_　and　asked　me　if　I　had　seen　it。　　Yes；　thirteen　times；　　I　said。　　Charles　Bronson　dies　in　it；　so　do　James　Coburn　and　Robert　Vaughn。　　He　gave　me　a　pinch…faced　look；　as　if　I　had　just　spat　in　his　soda。　　Thanks　a　lot；　man；　　he　said；　shaking　his　head　and　muttering　something　as　he　walked　away。　That　was　when　I　learned　that；　in　America；　you　don　t　reveal　the　ending　of　the　movie；　and　if　you　do；　you　will　be　scorned　and　made　to　apologize　profusely　for　having　mitted　the　sin　of　Spoiling　the　End。
In　Afghanistan；　the　ending　was　all　that　mattered。　When　Hassan　and　I　came　home　after　watching　a　Hindi　film　at　Cinema　Zainab；　what　Ali；　Rahim　Khan；　Baba；　or　the　myriad　of　Baba　s　friends……second　and　third　cousins　milling　in　and　out　of　the　house……wanted　to　know　was　this：　Did　the　Girl　in　the　film　find　happiness？　Did　the　bacheh　film；　the　Guy　in　the　film；　bee　katnyab　and　fulfill　his　dreams；　or　was　he　nah…kam；　doomed　to　wallow　in　failure？
Was　there　happiness　at　the　end；　they　wanted　to　know。
If　someone　were　to　ask　me　today　whether　the　story　of　Hassan；　Sohrab；　and　me　ends　with　happiness；　I　wouldn　t　know　what　to　say。
Does　anybody　s？
After　all；　life　is　not　a　Hindi　movie。　Zendagi　migzara；　Afghans　like　to　say：　Life　goes　on；　unmindful　of　beginning；　end；　kamyab；　nah…kam；　crisis　or　catharsis；　moving　forward　like　a　slow；　dusty　caravan　of　kochis。
I　wouldn　t　know　how　to　answer　that　question。　Despite　the　matter　of　last　Sunday　s　tiny　miracle。
WE　ARRIVED　HOME　about　seven　months　ago；　on　a　warm　day　in　August　2001。　Soraya　picked　us　up　at　the　airport。　I　had　never　been　away　from　Soraya　for　so　long；　and　when　she　locked　her　arms　around　my　neck；　when　I　smelled　apples　in　her　hair；　I　realized　how　much　I　had　missed　her。　　You　re　still　the　morning　sun　to　my　yelda；　　I　whispered。
　What？　
　Never　mind。　　I　kissed　her　ear。
After；　she　knelt　to　eye　level　with　Sohrab。　She　took　his　hand　and　smiled　at　him。　　Sataam；　Sohrab　jan；　I　m　your　Khala　Soraya。　We　ve　all　been　waiting　for　you。　
Looking　a