雙語(yǔ)名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(201)

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(guó)。

成年后的阿米爾始終無(wú)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(lái)令人蕩氣回腸。

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“He was sexually abused,” I said, thinking of the bells around Sohrab’s ankles, the mascara on his eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Andrews’s mouth said. The way he was looking at me, though, we might as well have been talking about the weather. “But that is not going to make the INS issue this young fellow a visa.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you want to help, send money to a reputable relief organization. Volunteer at a refugee camp. But at this point in time, we strongly discourage U.S. citizens from attempting to adopt Afghan children.”
I got up. “Come on, Sohrab,” I said in Farsi. Sohrab slid next to me, rested his head on my hip. I remembered the Polaroid of him and Hassan standing that same way. “Can I ask you some thing, Mr. Andrews?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have children?”
For the first time, he blinked.
“Well, do you? It’s a simple question.”
He was silent.
“I thought so,” I said, taking Sohrab’s hand. “They ought to put someone in your chair who knows what it’s like to want a child.” I turned to go, Sohrab trailing me.
“Can I ask you a question?” Andrews called.
“Go ahead.”
“Have you promised this child you’ll take him with you?”
“What if I have?”
He shook his head. “It’s a dangerous business, making promises to kids.” He sighed and opened his desk drawer again. “You mean to pursue this?” he said, rummaging through papers.
“I mean to pursue this.”
He produced a business card. “Then I advise you to get a good immigration lawyer. Omar Faisal works here in Islamabad. You can tell him I sent you.”
I took the card from him. “Thanks,” I muttered.
“Good luck,” he said. As we exited the room, I glanced over my shoulder. Andrews was standing in a rectangle of sunlight, absently staring out the window, his hands turning the potted tomato plants toward the sun, petting them lovingly.
“TAKE CARE,” the secretary said as we passed her desk.
“Your boss could use some manners,” I said. I expected her to roll her eyes, maybe nod in that “I know, everybody says that,” kind of way. Instead, she lowered her voice. “Poor Ray. He hasn’t been the same since his daughter died.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Suicide,” she whispered.

“他受過(guò)性虐待?！蔽艺f(shuō)，想起索拉博腳踝上的鈴鐺，他眼睛上的眼影。
“聽(tīng)到這個(gè)我很抱歉，”安德魯張口說(shuō)，不過(guò)他望著我的樣子，好像我們一直在談?wù)撎鞖猓暗遣粫?huì)讓移民局給這個(gè)小男孩放發(fā)簽證?！?br />“你在說(shuō)什么？”
“我的意思是，如果你想幫忙，可以捐錢給可靠的慈善組織，或者去難民營(yíng)當(dāng)義工。但在現(xiàn)在這樣的時(shí)刻，我們非常不贊成美國(guó)公民收養(yǎng)阿富汗兒童?！?br />我站起來(lái)?！白甙?，索拉博。”我用法爾西語(yǔ)說(shuō)。索拉博倚著我，頭靠在我的臀部上。我想起那張寶麗萊照片，他和哈桑就這樣站著?！拔夷軉?wèn)你一些問(wèn)題嗎，安德魯先生？”
“可以?！?br />“你有孩子嗎？”
這下，他第一次眨眼了。
“嗯，你有嗎？隨便問(wèn)問(wèn)而已。”
他默默無(wú)語(yǔ)。
“我這么認(rèn)為，”我說(shuō)，拉起索拉博的手，“他們應(yīng)該找個(gè)知道想要孩子是什么感覺(jué)的人坐你的位置。”我轉(zhuǎn)身離開，索拉博跟著我。
“我可以問(wèn)你一個(gè)問(wèn)題嗎？”安德魯喊道。
“說(shuō)吧?！?br />“你承諾過(guò)這個(gè)孩子帶他回家嗎？”
“要是有又怎樣？”
他搖搖頭，“真是危險(xiǎn)的事情，給孩子承諾。”他嘆氣，又打開抽屜，“你真想要這么做？”他說(shuō)，翻著文件。
“我真的想這么做。”
他抽出一張名片：“那么我建議你找個(gè)優(yōu)秀的移民律師。奧馬爾‘費(fèi)薩爾在伊斯蘭堡工作，你可以跟他說(shuō)我讓你去找他。”
我從他那里拿過(guò)名片。“謝謝。”我低聲說(shuō)。
“祝你好運(yùn)?！彼f(shuō)。我們走出房間的時(shí)候，我回頭看了一眼。安德魯站在長(zhǎng)方形的陽(yáng)光中，茫然地望著窗外，雙手將那盆番茄藤轉(zhuǎn)到陽(yáng)光下，慈愛(ài)地拍打著。
“保重?！蔽覀冏哌^(guò)秘書的辦公桌時(shí)她說(shuō)。
“你老板應(yīng)該禮貌一些。”我說(shuō)。我以為她會(huì)轉(zhuǎn)動(dòng)眼珠，也許點(diǎn)頭說(shuō)“我知道，每個(gè)人都那么說(shuō)”，諸如此類。相反的是，她降低聲音：“可憐的雷，自從他女兒死后，他就跟變了個(gè)人似的。”
我揚(yáng)起眉頭。
“自殺。”她說(shuō)。