雙語名著·追風箏的人 The Kite Runner(194)

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(xiàn)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(zhì)與救贖，讀來令人蕩氣回腸。

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“Oh,” he said. I was hoping he’d ask more, but he dealt another hand and asked if we could eat. I opened the paper bag and gave him his meatball sandwich. My lunch consisted of yet another cup of blended bananas and oranges--I’d rented Mrs. Fayyaz’s blender for the week. I sucked through the straw and my mouth filled with the sweet, blended fruit. Some of it dripped from the corner of my lips. Sohrab handed me a napkin and watched me dab at my lips. I smiled and he smiled back.
“Your father and I were brothers,” I said. It just came out. I had wanted to tell him the night we had sat by the mosque, but I hadn’t. But he had a right to know; I didn’t want to hide anything anymore. “Half brothers, really. We had the same father.”
Sohrab stopped chewing. Put the sandwich down. “Father never said he had a brother.”“That’s because he didn’t know.”“Why didn’t he know?”
“No one told him,” I said. “No one told me either. I just found out recently.”Sohrab blinked. Like he was looking at me, really looking at me, for the very first time. “But why did people hide it from Father and you?”
“You know, I asked myself that same question the other day. And there’s an answer, but not a good one. Let’s just say they didn’t tell us because your father and I... we weren’t supposed to be brothers.”
“Because he was a Hazara?”I willed my eyes to stay on him. “Yes.”
“Did your father,” he began, eyeing his food, “did your father love you and my father equally?”
I thought of a long ago day at Ghargha Lake, when Baba had allowed himself to pat Hassan on the back when Hassan’s stone had outskipped mine. I pictured Baba in the hospital room, beaming as they removed the bandages from Hassan’s lips. “I think he loved us equally but differently.”
“Was he ashamed of my father?”
“No,” I said. “I think he was ashamed of himself.”
He picked up his sandwich and nibbled at it silently.

“哦?！彼f。我希望他會多問幾句，但他又甩出一手牌，問是不是可以吃東西了。我打開紙袋，給他肉丸夾餅。我的午餐是一杯混合的香蕉汁和橙汁——那個星期我租了費亞茲太太的榨汁機。我用吸管吮著，滿嘴甜甜的混合果汁。有些從嘴角流出來，索拉博遞給我一張紙巾，看著我擦嘴唇。我朝他微笑，他也微笑。
“你父親跟我是兄弟。”我說，自然而然地。在我們坐在清真寺附近那晚，我本來打算告訴他，但終究沒說出口。可是他有權(quán)利知道，我不想再隱瞞什么事情了。“同父異母，真的。我們有共同的爸爸。”
索拉博不再吃東西了，把夾餅放下，“爸爸沒說過他有兄弟。”“那是因為他不知道。”“他為什么不知道？”
“沒人告訴他，”我說，“也沒人告訴我。我最近才發(fā)現(xiàn)。”索拉博眨眼，好像那是他第一次看著我，第一次真正看著我?！翱墒侨藗?yōu)槭裁床m著爸爸和你呢？”
“你知道嗎，那天我也問了這個問題。那兒有個答案，但不是個好答案。讓我們這么說吧，人們瞞著我們，因為你父親和我……我們不應(yīng)該被當成兄弟?！?br />“因為他是哈扎拉人嗎？”我強迫自己看著他：“是的。”
“你父親，”他眼睛看著食物，說，“你父親愛你和愛我爸爸一樣多嗎？”
我想起很久以前，有一天我們在喀爾卡湖，哈桑的石頭比我多跳了幾下，爸爸情不自禁拍著哈桑的后背。我想起爸爸在病房里，看著人們揭開哈桑唇上的繃帶，喜形于色。“我想他對我們的愛是一樣的，但方式不同。”
“他為我爸爸感到羞恥嗎？”
“不，”我說，“我想他為自己感到羞恥?！?br />他撿起夾餅，默默地吃起來。