雙語名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(86)

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(chǎng)風(fēng)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(zé)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(dāng)年對(duì)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(diǎn)心力，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)一個(gè)驚天謊言，兒時(shí)的噩夢(mèng)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(xì)膩的筆法勾勒人性的本質(zhì)與救贖，讀來令人蕩氣回腸。

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“You know, your grandfather, Ghazi Sahib, the judge? Now, his uncle and my grandfather were cousins,” she said. “So you see, we’re related.” She smiled a cap-toothed smile, and I noticed the right side of her mouth drooping a little. Her eyes moved between Soraya and me again.
I’d asked Baba once why General Taheri’s daughter hadn’t married yet. No suitors, Baba said. No suitable suitors, he amended. But he wouldn’t say more--Baba knew how lethal idle talk could prove to a young woman’s prospects of marrying well. Afghan men, especially those from reputable families, were fickle creatures. A whisper here, an insinuation there, and they fled like startled birds. So weddings had come and gone and no one had sung ahesta boro for Soraya, no one had painted her palms with henna, no one had held a Koran over her headdress, and it had been General Taheri who’d danced with her at every wedding.
And now, this woman, this mother, with her heartbreakingly eager, crooked smile and the barely veiled hope in her eyes. I cringed a little at the position of power I’d been granted, and all because I had won at the genetic lottery that had determined my sex.
I could never read the thoughts in the general’s eyes, but I knew this much about his wife: If I was going to have an adversary in this--whatever this was--it would not be her.
“Sit down, Amir jan,” she said. “Soraya, get him a chair, hachem. And wash one of those peaches. They’re sweet and fresh.”
“Nay, thank you,” I said. “I should get going. My father’s waiting.”
“Oh?” Khanum Taheri said, clearly impressed that I’d done the polite thing and declined the offer. “Then here, at least have this.” She threw a handful of kiwis and a few peaches into a paper bag and insisted I take them. “Carry my Salaam to your father. And come back to see us again.”
“I will. Thank you, Khala jan,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Soraya looking away.
“I THOUGHT YOU WERE GETTING COKES,” Baba said, taking the bag of peaches from me. He was looking at me in a simultaneously serious and playful way. I began to make some thing up, but he bit into a peach and waved his hand, “Don’t bother, Amir. Just remember what I said.”
THAT NIGHT IN BED, I thought of the way dappled sunlight had danced in Soraya’s eyes, and of the delicate hollows above her collarbone. I replayed our conversation over and over in my head. Had she said I heard you write or I heard you’re a writer? Which was it? I tossed in my sheets and stared at the ceiling, dismayed at the thought of six laborious, interminable nights of yelda until I saw her again.

“你認(rèn)識(shí)你的爺爺伽茲老爺嗎?他是個(gè)法官。喏，他的叔叔跟我爺爺是表親。”她說，“所以你看，我們還是親戚呢?！彼⑿χ冻鲆豢诮鹧溃易⒁獾剿疫叺淖旖怯悬c(diǎn)下垂。她的眼睛又在我和索拉雅之間轉(zhuǎn)起來。
有一次，我問爸爸，為什么塔赫里將軍的女兒還沒有嫁出去。“沒有追求者，”爸爸說，“沒有門當(dāng)戶對(duì)的追求者。”他補(bǔ)充說。但他再也不說了——爸爸知道這種致命的閑言碎語會(huì)給少女未來的婚姻造成什么樣的影響。阿富汗男人，尤其是出身名門望族的那些人，都是見風(fēng)使舵的家伙。這兒幾句閑話，那兒數(shù)聲詆毀，他們就會(huì)像驚鳥般落荒而逃。所以不斷有婚禮舉行，可是沒人給索拉雅唱“慢慢走”，沒有人在她手掌涂指甲花，沒有人把《可蘭經(jīng)》擺放在她頭巾上，每個(gè)婚禮上，陪著她跳舞的，總是塔赫里將軍。
而如今，這個(gè)婦女，這個(gè)母親，帶著令人心碎的渴望，討好微笑，對(duì)眼中的希望不加掩飾。我對(duì)自己所處的有利地位感到畏怯，而這全都因?yàn)?，我贏得了那場(chǎng)決定我性別的基因博彩。
我從來沒能看穿將軍的雙眸，但我從他妻子眼里懂得的可就多了：如果我在這件事情上——不管這件事情是什么——會(huì)遇到對(duì)手，那絕對(duì)不是她。
“請(qǐng)坐，親愛的阿米爾。”她說，“索拉雅，給他一張椅子，我的孩子。洗幾個(gè)桃子，它們又甜又多汁?！?br />“不用了，謝謝。”我說，“我得回去了，爸爸在等我。”
“哦?”塔赫里太太說，顯然，她被我禮貌地婉拒她的得體舉止打動(dòng)了。“那么，給你，至少帶上這個(gè)。”她抓起一把獼猴桃，還有幾個(gè)桃子，放進(jìn)紙袋，堅(jiān)持要我收下?！疤嫖覇柡蚰惆职郑砜纯次覀?。”
“我會(huì)的，謝謝你，親愛的阿姨?！蔽艺f，我用眼角的余光看到索拉雅正望著別處。
“我還以為你去買可樂了呢?！卑职终f，從我手里接過那袋桃子。他看著我，神情既嚴(yán)肅，又戲謔。我開始找說詞，但他咬了一口桃子，揮揮手:“別費(fèi)勁了，阿米爾。只要記得我說的就行。”
那天夜晚，躺在床上，我想著閃爍的陽光在索拉雅眼里舞動(dòng)的樣子，想著她鎖骨上方那美麗的凹陷。我在腦里一遍又一遍回放著我們的對(duì)話。她說的是“我聽說你是個(gè)作家”還是“我聽說你寫作”?是哪句呢?我捂緊被子，盯著天花板，痛苦地想起，要度過連續(xù)六個(gè)漫漫的雅爾達(dá)之夜，我才能再次見到她。