双语名著·追风筝的人 The Kite Runner(58)

12岁的阿富汗富家少爷阿米尔与仆人哈桑情同手足。然而，在一场风筝比赛后，发生了一件悲惨不堪的事，阿米尔为自己的懦弱感到自责和痛苦，逼走了哈桑，不久，自己也跟随父亲逃往美国。

成年后的阿米尔始终无法原谅自己当年对哈桑的背叛。为了赎罪，阿米尔再度踏上暌违二十多年的故乡，希望能为不幸的好友尽最后一点心力，却发现一个惊天谎言，儿时的噩梦再度重演，阿米尔该如何抉择?

故事如此残忍而又美丽，作者以温暖细腻的笔法勾勒人性的本质与救赎，读来令人荡气回肠。

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“I want you to stop harassing me. I want you to go away,” I snapped. I wished he would give it right back to me, break the door open and tell me off--it would have made things easier, better. But he didn’t do anything like that, and when I opened the door minutes later, he wasn’t there. I fell on my bed, buried my head under the pillow, and cried.
HASSAN MILLED ABOUT the periphery of my life after that. I made sure our paths crossed as little as possible, planned my day that way. Because when he was around, the oxygen seeped out of the room. My chest tightened and I couldn’t draw enough air; I’d stand there, gasping in my own little airless bubble of atmosphere. But even when he wasn’t around, he was. He was there in the hand-washed and ironed clothes on the cane-seat chair, in the warm slippers left outside my door, in the wood already burning in the stove when I came down for breakfast. Everywhere I turned, I saw signs of his loyalty, his goddamn unwavering loyalty.
Early that spring, a few days before the new school year started, Baba and I were planting tulips in the garden. Most of the snow had melted and the hills in the north were already dotted with patches of green grass. It was a cool, gray morning, and Baba was squatting next to me, digging the soil and planting the bulbs I handed to him. He was telling me how most people thought it was better to plant tulips in the fall and how that wasn’t true, when I came right out and said it. “Baba, have you ever thought about get ting new servants?”
He dropped the tulip bulb and buried the trowel in the dirt. Took off his gardening gloves. I’d startled him. “Chi? What did you say?”
“I was just wondering, that’s all.”
“Why would I ever want to do that?” Baba said curtly.
“You wouldn’t, I guess. It was just a question,” I said, my voice fading to a murmur. I was already sorry I’d said it.
“Is this about you and Hassan? I know there’s something going on between you two, but whatever it is, you have to deal with it, not me. I’m staying out of it.”
“I’m sorry, Baba.”
He put on his gloves again. “I grew up with Ali,” he said through clenched teeth. “My father took him in, he loved Ali like his own son. Forty years Ali’s been with my family. Forty goddamn years. And you think I’m just going to throw him out?” He turned to me now, his face as red as a tulip. “I’ve never laid a hand on you, Amir, but you ever say that again...” He looked away, shaking his head. “You bring me shame. And Hassan... Hassan’s not going anywhere, do you understand?”
I looked down and picked up a fistful of cool soil. Let it pour between my fingers.
“I said, Do you understand?” Baba roared.
I flinched. “Yes, Baba.”

“我要你别再骚扰我，我要你走开。”我不耐烦地说。我希望他会报复我，破门而入，将我臭骂一顿——这样事情会变得容易一些，变得好一些。但他没有那样做，隔了几分钟，我打开门，他已经不在了。我倒在自己的床上，将头埋在枕上，眼泪直流。
自那以后，哈桑搅乱了我的生活。我每天尽可能不跟他照面，并以此安排自己的生活。因为每当他在旁边，房间里的氧气就会消耗殆尽。我的胸口会收缩，无法呼吸；我会站在那儿，被一些没有空气的泡泡包围，喘息着。可就算他不在我身边，我仍然感觉到他在，他就在那儿，在藤椅上那些他亲手浆洗和熨烫的衣服上，在那双摆在我门外的温暖的便鞋里面，每当我下楼吃早餐，他就在火炉里那些熊熊燃烧的木头上。无论我走到哪儿，都能看见他忠心耿耿的信号，他那该死的、毫不动摇的忠心。
那年早春，距开学还有几天，爸爸和我在花园里种郁金香。大部分积雪已经融化，北边的山头开始露出一片片如茵绿草。那是个寒冷、阴沉的早晨，爸爸在我身旁，一边说话，一边掘开泥土，把我递给他的球茎种下。他告诉我，有很多人都以为秋天是种植郁金香的最好季节，然而那是错的。这当头，我问了他一个问题:“爸爸，你有没有想过请新的佣人?”
他扔下球茎，把铲子插在泥土中，扔掉手里的工作手套，看来我让他大吃一惊，“什么?你刚才说什么?”
“我只是想想而已，没别的。”
“为什么我要那样做?”爸爸粗声说。
“你不会，我想。那只是一个问题而已。”我说，声音降低了。我已经后悔自己那样说了。
“是因为你和哈桑吗?我知道你们之间有问题，但不管那是什么问题，应该处理它的人是你，不是我。我会袖手旁观。”
“对不起，爸爸。”
他又戴上手套。“我和阿里一起长大。”他咬牙切齿地说，“我爸爸将他带回家，他对阿里视如己出。阿里待在我家四十年了，整整四十年。而你认为我会将他赶走?”他转向我，脸红得像郁金香一样,“我不会碰你一下，阿米尔，但你要是胆敢再说一次……”他移开眼睛，摇摇头，“你真让我觉得羞耻。至于哈桑……哈桑哪里也不去。你知不知道?”
我望着地面，手里抓起一把冷冷的泥土，任由它从我指缝间滑落。
“我说，你知不知道?”爸爸咆哮了。
我害怕了:“我知道，爸爸。”