雙語名著·追風箏的人 The Kite Runner(66)

12歲的阿富汗富家少爺阿米爾與仆人哈桑情同手足。然而，在一場風箏比賽后，發(fā)生了一件悲慘不堪的事，阿米爾為自己的懦弱感到自責和痛苦，逼走了哈桑，不久，自己也跟隨父親逃往美國。

成年后的阿米爾始終無法原諒自己當年對哈桑的背叛。為了贖罪，阿米爾再度踏上暌違二十多年的故鄉(xiāng)，希望能為不幸的好友盡最后一點心力，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)一個驚天謊言，兒時的噩夢再度重演，阿米爾該如何抉擇?

故事如此殘忍而又美麗，作者以溫暖細膩的筆法勾勒人性的本質(zhì)與救贖，讀來令人蕩氣回腸。

下面就跟小編一起來欣賞雙語名著·追風箏的人 The Kite Runner(66)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

The other present Baba gave me--and he didn’t wait around for me to open this one--was a wristwatch. It had a blue face with gold hands in the shape of lightning bolts. I didn’t even try it on. I tossed it on the pile of toys in the corner. The only gift I didn’t toss on that mound was Rahim Khan’s leather-bound notebook. That was the only one that didn’t feel like blood money.
I sat on the edge of my bed, turned the notebook in my hands, thought about what Rahim Khan had said about Homaira, how his father’s dismissing her had been for the best in the end. She would have suffered. Like the times Kaka Homayoun’s projector got stuck on the same slide, the same image kept flashing in my mind over and over: Hassan, his head downcast, serving drinks to Assef and Wali. Maybe it would be for the best. Lessen his suffering. And mine too. Either way, this much had become clear: One of us had to go.
Later that afternoon, I took the Schwinn for its first and last spin. I pedaled around the block a couple of times and came back. I rolled up the driveway to the backyard where Hassan and Ali were cleaning up the mess from last night’s party. Paper cups, crumpled napkins, and empty bottles of soda littered the yard. Ali was folding chairs, setting them along the wall. He saw me and waved.
“Salaam, All,” I said, waving back.
He held up a finger, asking me to wait, and walked to his living quarters. A moment later, he emerged with something in his hands. “The opportunity never presented itself last night for Hassan and me to give you this,” he said, handing me a box. “It’s mod est and not worthy of you, Amir agha. But we hope you like it still. Happy birthday.”
A lump was rising in my throat. “Thank you, Ali,” I said. I wished they hadn’t bought me anything. I opened the box and found a brand new _Shahnamah_, a hardback with glossy colored illustrations beneath the passages. Here was Ferangis gazing at her newborn son, Kai Khosrau. There was Afrasiyab riding his horse, sword drawn, leading his army. And, of course, Rostam inflicting a mortal wound onto his son, the warrior Sohrab. “It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Hassan said your copy was old and ragged, and that some of the pages were missing,” Ali said. “All the pictures are hand-drawn in this one with pen and ink,” he added proudly, eyeing a book neither he nor his son could read.
“It’s lovely,” I said. And it was. And, I suspected, not inexpensive either. I wanted to tell Ali it was not the book, but I who was unworthy. I hopped back on the bicycle. “Thank Hassan for me,” I said.
I ended up tossing the book on the heap of gifts in the corner of my room. But my eyes kept going back to it, so I buried it at the bottom. Before I went to bed that night, I asked Baba if he’d seen my new watch anywhere.

爸爸給我的另一件禮物——他甚至不愿意等我打開它——是手表。表面是藍色的，金色的指針呈閃電狀。我甚至都沒試著戴一下，就將其扔到角落那堆玩具中去。惟一沒有被扔到那堆東西里去的禮物是拉辛汗的皮面筆記本，只有它不像是血腥錢。
我坐在自己的床沿，雙手打開筆記本，想著拉辛汗提起荷麥拉的故事，被他父親逐走是她最好的下場。她會受苦的。好比霍瑪勇叔叔的投影機被同一面幻燈片卡住，總有個畫面在我腦中揮之不去：哈桑，他低著頭，端飲料服侍阿塞夫和瓦里。興許那是最好的結(jié)局，既可減少他的傷痛，也可緩和我的苦楚。不管怎樣，事情變得清楚起來：我們有一個必須離開。
那天午后，我第一次，也是最后一次騎上那輛施溫自行車。我繞著那個街區(qū)騎了好幾圈，然后回家。我騎上那條車道，通向后院，哈桑和阿里正在那兒打掃昨夜宴會留下的一片狼藉。院子里到處是紙杯、揉成一團的紙巾，還有空空如也的汽水瓶。阿里正把椅子折疊起來，放到墻邊去。他看見我，招招手。
“你好，阿里?！蔽覔]著手說。
他舉起一只手指，讓我稍等，接著走進他住那間屋子。片刻之后，他手里拿著某些東西走出來?！白蛲砦液凸Ｕ也坏綑C會把這份禮物給你，”他說著交給我一個盒子，“它太普通，配不上你，阿米爾少爺。不過我們還是希望你喜歡它。生日快樂。”
我喉嚨一哽?！爸x謝你，阿里。”我說。我寧愿他們什么也沒給我買。我打開盒子，看到一本嶄新的《沙納瑪》，硬皮的，每頁的下方附有精美的彩色插圖。這張是菲蘭吉凝望她剛出世的兒子凱寇斯勞；那張是阿佛拉西雅手執(zhí)利劍，胯騎駿馬，領(lǐng)軍前進。當然還有羅斯坦給他兒子，勇士索拉博以致命一擊?！罢嫫痢！蔽艺f。
“哈桑說你那本又舊又破，還掉了一些書頁。”阿里說，“這本書里面全部圖畫都是用鋼筆和墨水手繪的?！彼湴恋匮a充說，望著這本他和他的兒子都看不懂的書。
“它很可愛?！蔽艺f。確實很可愛。甚至也不便宜，我懷疑。我想告訴阿里，書沒有配不上我，是我配不上他們的禮物。我重新跳上那輛自行車?！疤嫖抑x謝哈桑?！蔽艺f。
我終究將這本書扔在屋角那堆禮物上面。可是我的眼睛總是忍不住看向它，所以我將它埋在下面。那夜睡覺之前，我問爸爸有沒有看到我的新手表。