雙語名著·追風箏的人 The Kite Runner(151)

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與救贖，讀來令人蕩氣回腸。

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WHAT PASSED FOR THE DIRECTOR’S OFFICE was four bare, cracked walls, a mat on the floor, a table, and two folding chairs. As Zaman and I sat down, I saw a gray rat poke its head from a burrow in the wall and flit across the room. I cringed when it sniffed at my shoes, then Zaman’s, and scurried through the open door.
“What did you mean it may be too late?” I said.
“Would you like some chai? I could make some.”
“Nay, thank you. I’d rather we talk.”Zaman tilted back in his chair and crossed his arms on his chest. “What I have to tell you is not pleasant. Not to mention that it may be very dangerous.”
“For whom?”
“You. Me. And, of course, for Sohrab, if it’s not too late already.”
“I need to know,” I said.

He nodded. “So you say. But first I want to ask you a question: How badly do you want to find your nephew?”

I thought of the street fights we’d get into when we were kids, all the times Hassan used to take them on for me, two against one, sometimes three against one. I’d wince and watch, tempted to step in, but always stopping short, always held back by something.
I looked at the hallway, saw a group of kids dancing in a circle. A little girl, her left leg amputated below the knee, sat on a ratty mattress and watched, smiling and clapping along with the other children. I saw Farid watching the children too, his own mangled hand hanging at his side. I remembered Wahid’s boys and... I realized something: I would not leave Afghanistan without finding Sohrab. “Tell me where he is,” I said.
Zaman’s gaze lingered on me. Then he nodded, picked up a pencil, and twirled it between his fingers. “Keep my name out of it.”
“I promise.”

負責人的辦公室是這么一間房子：四面空蕩蕩的開裂墻壁，一張地毯，一張桌子，兩張折疊椅。察曼和我坐下的時候，我看見一只灰色的老鼠從墻洞探出頭來，竄過房間。它嗅嗅我的鞋子，我身體一縮，接著它去嗅察曼的鞋子，這才奔出洞開的門。
“你剛才說太遲了是什么意思？”我說。
“你們想喝茶嗎？我可以去弄一些?！?br />“不了，謝謝。我們還是談談。”察曼身子倒在座椅上，雙臂抱胸，“我要告訴你的是不愉快的事情，更別提可能還很危險。”
“誰危險？”
“你，我。當然還有索拉博，如果還不算太遲的話?！?br />“我需要知道?！彼c點頭：

“好的。但我首先想問你一個問題。你有多渴望想找到你的侄兒？”
我想起童年時代，我們在街頭和人打架，每次都是哈桑為我挺身而出，一個打兩個，有時是三個。我畏縮旁觀，心里想幫忙，但總是望而卻步，總是被不知道什么東西拉退。
我望著走廊，看見一群孩子，圍成一圈跳舞。有個小女孩，左腿從膝蓋以下不見了，她坐在破舊的墊子上觀望，微笑著，和其他孩子一起拍著手。我看見法里德也在看著那些孩子，他殘廢的手就掛在身邊。我想起瓦希德的兒子……我恍然省悟：如果沒有找到索拉博，我絕不離開阿富汗。 “告訴我他在哪兒。”我說。
察曼凝望著我，然后他點點頭，撿起一枝鉛筆，在手指間轉動。“別說是我告訴你的?！?br />“我答應你?！?