殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(202)

ON THE TAXI RIDE back to the hotel, Sohrab rested his head on the window, kept staring at the passing buildings, the rows of gum trees. His breath fogged the glass, cleared, fogged it again. I waited for him to ask me about the meeting but he didn’t. ON THE OTHER SIDE of the closed bathroom door the water was running. Since the day we’d checked into the hotel, Sohrab took a long bath every night before bed. In Kabul, hot running water had been like fathers, a rare commodity. Now Sohrab spent almost an hour a night in the bath, soaking in the soapy water, scrubbing. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I called Soraya. I glanced at the thin line of light under the bathroom door. Do you feel clean yet, Sohrab?
I passed on to Soraya what Raymond Andrews had told me. “So what do you think?” I said.
“We have to think he’s wrong.” She told me she had called a few adoption agencies that arranged international adoptions. She hadn’t yet found one that would consider doing an Afghan adoption, but she was still looking.
“How are your parents taking the news?”
“Madar is happy for us. You know how she feels about you, Amir, you can do no wrong in her eyes. Padar... well, as always, he’s a little harder to read. He’s not saying much.”
“And you? Are you happy?” I heard her shifting the receiver to her other hand. “I think we’ll be good for your nephew, but maybe that little boy will be good for us too.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I find myself wondering what his favorite _qurma_ will be, or his favorite subject in school. I picture myself helping him with homework...” She laughed. In the bathroom, the water had stopped running. I could hear Sohrab in there, shifting in the tub, spilling water over the sides.
“You’re going to be great,” I said.
“Oh, I almost forgot! I called Kaka Sharif.” I remembered him reciting a poem at our nika from a scrap of hotel stationery paper. His son had held the Koran over our heads as Soraya and I had walked toward the stage, smiling at the flashing cameras. “What did he say?”
“Well, he’s going to stir the pot for us. He’ll call some of his INS buddies,” she said.
“That’s really great news,” I said. “I can’t wait for you to see Sohrab.”
“I can’t wait to see you,” she said.I hung up smiling.

在回旅館的出租車上，索拉博頭靠車窗，望着棟棟後退的房子和成排的橡膠樹。他的呼吸模糊了玻璃，擦乾淨，又模糊了。我等待他問起會談的情況，但他沒問。浴室的門關上，門後傳來水流聲。自從我們住進賓館那天起，索拉博每晚上牀之前總要洗很久的澡。在喀布爾，熱自來水像父親一樣，是稀缺的產品。現在索拉博每晚幾乎要用一個小時洗澡，浸在肥皂水中，不停擦着身體。我坐在牀邊給索拉雅打電話，看着浴室門下滲出來的光線。你覺得乾淨了嗎，索拉博？
我將雷蒙德跟我說過的告訴索拉雅。“你現在怎麼想？”
“我們得認爲他錯了。”她說她給幾家安排國際收養的機構打過電話，她還沒發現有考慮收養阿富汗孩子的機構，但她還在找。
“你父母對這個消息怎麼看？”
“媽媽很爲我們高興。你知道她對你的感覺，阿米爾，在她眼裏，你做什麼都不會錯。爸爸……嗯，跟過去一樣，他有點讓人猜不透。他沒說太多。”
“你呢？你高興嗎？”我聽見她把聽筒換到另一隻手上。“我想這對你的侄兒來說是好的，但也許他也會給我們帶來幫助。”
“我也這麼想。”
“我知道這聽起來很瘋狂，可是我發現自己在想着他最喜歡吃什麼菜，或者最喜歡學校裏的哪門課。我設想自己在幫他做作業……'‘她哈哈大笑。浴室的水聲停止了，我能聽到索拉博在那兒，從浴缸爬出來，擦乾身體。
“你真是太好了。”我說。
“啊，我差點忘了！我給沙利夫舅舅打過電話！”我記得在我們的婚禮上，他朗誦一首寫在酒店信紙上的詩歌。我和索拉雅走向舞臺，朝閃光的鏡頭微笑的時候，他的兒子在我們頭頂高舉《可蘭經》。“他怎麼說？”
“嗯，他會幫助我們。他會給他在移民局的朋友打電話。”她說。
“真是個好消息。”我說，“我忍不住想讓你快點見到索拉博。”
“我忍不住想快點見到你。”她說。我笑着掛上電話。