the kite runner-第95部分

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e　that？　　I　put　my　hand　on　his　arm；　gingerly；　but　he　flinched。　He　dropped　his　cards　and　pushed　away　on　the　stool。　He　walked　back　to　the　window。　The　sky　was　awash　with　streaks　of　red　and　purple　as　the　sun　set　on　Peshawar。　From　the　street　below　came　a　succession　of　honks　and　the　braying　of　a　donkey；　the　whistle　of　a　policeman。　Sohrab　stood　in　that　crimson　light；　forehead　pressed　to　the　glass；　fists　buried　in　his　armpits。
AISHA　HAD　A　MALE　ASSISTANT　help　me　take　my　first　steps　that　night。　I　only　walked　around　the　room　once；　one　hand　clutching　the　wheeled　IV　stand；　the　other　clasping　the　assistant　s　fore　arm。　It　took　me　ten　minutes　to　make　it　back　to　bed；　and；　by　then；　the　incision　on　my　stomach　throbbed　and　I　d　broken　out　in　a　drenching　sweat。　I　lay　in　bed；　gasping；　my　heart　hammering　in　my　ears；　thinking　how　much　I　missed　my　wife。
Sohrab　and　I　played　panjpar　most　of　the　next　day；　again　in　silence。　And　the　day　after　that。　We　hardly　spoke；　just　played　panjpar；　me　propped　in　bed；　he　on　the　three…legged　stool；　our　routine　broken　only　by　my　taking　a　walk　around　the　room；　or　going　to　the　bathroom　down　the　hall。　I　had　a　dream　later　that　night。　I　dreamed　Assef　was　standing　in　the　doorway　of　my　hospital　room；　brass　ball　still　in　his　eye　socket。　　We　re　the　same；　you　and　I；　　he　was　saying。　　You　nursed　with　him；　but　you　re　my　twin。　
I　TOLD　ARMAND　early　that　next　day　that　I　was　leaving。
　It　s　still　early　for　discharge；　　Armand　protested。　He　wasn　t　dressed　in　surgical　scrubs　that　day；　instead　in　a　button…down　navy　blue　suit　and　yellow　tie。　The　gel　was　back　in　the　hair。　　You　are　still　in　intravenous　antibiotics　and……　
　I　have　to　go；　　I　said。　　I　appreciate　everything　you　ve　done　for　me；　all　of　you。　Really。　But　I　have　to　leave。　
　Where　will　you　go？　　Armand　said。
　I　d　rather　not　say。　
　You　can　hardly　walk。　
　I　can　walk　to　the　end　of　the　hall　and　back；　　I　said。　　I　ll　b　fine。　　The　plan　was　this：　Leave　the　hospital。　Get　the　money　fror　the　safe…deposit　box　and　pay　my　medical　bills。　Drive　to　the　orphanage　and　drop　Sohrab　off　with　John　and　Betty　Caldwell　Then　get　a　ride　to　Islamabad　and　change　travel　plans。　Give　mysel　a　few　more　days　to　get　better。　Fly　home。
That　was　the　plan；　anyway。　Until　Farid　and　Sohrab　arrived　tha　morning。　　Your　friends；　this　John　and　Betty　Caldwell；　they　aren　　in　Peshawar；　　Farid　said。
It　had　taken　me　ten　minutes　Just　to　slip　into　my　pirhan　tumban。　My　chest；　where　they　d　cut　me　to　insert　the　chest　tube　hurt　when　I　raised　my　arm；　and　my　stomach　throbbed　every　time　I　leaned　over。　I　was　drawing　ragged　breaths　just　from　the　effort　of　packing　a　few　of　my　belongings　into　a　brown　paper　bag。　But　I　d　managed　to　get　ready　and　was　sitting　on　the　edge　of　the　bed　when　Farid　came　in　with　the　news。　Sohrab　sat　on　the　bed　next　to　me。
　Where　did　they　go？　　I　asked。
Farid　shook　his　head。　　You　don　t　understand……　
　Because　Rahim　Khan　said……　
　I　went　to　the　U。S。　consulate；　　Farid　said；　picking　up　my　bag。　　There　never　was　a　John　and　Betty　Caldwell　in　Peshawar。　According　to　the　people　at　the　consulate；　they　never　existed。　Not　here　in　Peshawar；　anyhow。　
Next　to　me；　Sohrab　was　flipping　through　the　pages　of　the　old　National　Geographic。
WE　GOT　THE　MONEY　from　the　bank。　The　manager；　a　paunchy　man　with　sweat　patches　under　his　arms；　kept　flashing　smiles　and　telling　me　that　no　one　in　the　bank　had　touched　the　money。
　Absolutely　nobody；　　he　said　gravely；　swinging　his　index　finger　the　same　way　Armand　had。
Driving　through　Peshawar　with　so　much　money　in　a　paper　bag　was　a　slightly　frightening　experience。　Plus；　I　suspected　every　bearded　man　who　stared　at　me　to　be　a　Talib　killer；　sent　by　Assef。　Two　things　pounded　my　fears：　There　are　a　lot　of　bearded　men　in　Peshawar；　and　everybody　stares。
　What　do　we　do　with　him？　　Farid　said；　walking　me　slowly　from　the　hospital　accounting　office　back　to　the　car。　Sohrab　was　in　the　backseat　of　the　Land　Cruiser；　looking　at　traffic　through　the　rolled…down　window；　chin　resting　on　his　palms。
　He　can　t　stay　in　Peshawar；　　I　said；　panting。
　Nay；　Amir　agha；　he　can　t；　　Farid　said。　He　d　read　the　question　in　my　words。　　I　m　sorry。　I　wish　I……　
　That　s　all　right；　Farid；　　I　said。　I　managed　a　tired　smile。　　You　have　mouths　to　feed。　　A　dog　was　standing　next　to　the　truck　now；　propped　on　its　rear　legs；　paws　on　the　truck　s　door；　tail　wagging。　Sohrab　was　petting　the　dog。　　I　guess　he　goes　to　Islamabad　for　now；　　I　said。
I　SLEPT　THROUGH　almost　the　entire　four…hour　ride　to　Islamabad。　I　dreamed　a　lot；　and　most　of　it　I　only　remember　as　a　hodge　podge　of　images；　snippets　of　visual　memory　flashing　in　my　head　like　cards　in　a　Rolodex：　Baba　marinating　lamb　for　my　thirteenth　birthday　party。　Soraya　and　I　making　love　for　the　first　time；　the　sun　rising　in　the　east；　our　ears　still　ringing　from　the　wedding　music；　her　henna…painted　hands　laced　in　mine。　The　time　Baba　had　taken　Hassan　and　me　to　a　strawberry　field　in　Jalalabad……the　owner　had　told　us　we　could　eat　as　much　as　we　wanted　to　as　long　as　we　bought　at　least　four　kilos……and　how　we　d　both　ended　up　with　bellyaches。　How　dark；　almost　black；　Hassan　s　blood　had　looked　on　the　snow；　dropping　from　the　seat　of　his　pants。　Blood　is　a　powerful　thing；　bachem。　Khala