双语名著·追风筝的人 The Kite Runner(106)

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。

下面就跟小编一起来欣赏双语名著·追风筝的人 The Kite Runner(106)的精彩内容吧！

“Sometimes, it takes a while,” I told Soraya one night.
“A year isn’t a while, Amir!” she said, in a terse voice so unlike her. “Something’s wrong, I know it.”
“Then let’s see a doctor.”
DR. ROSEN, a round-bellied man with a plump face and small, even teeth, spoke with a faint Eastern European accent, some thing remotely Slavic. He had a passion for trains--his office was littered with books about the history of railroads, model locomotives, paintings of trains trundling on tracks through green hills and over bridges. A sign above his desk read, LIFE IS A TRAIN. GET ON BOARD.
He laid out the plan for us. I’d get checked first. “Men are easy,” he said, fingers tapping on his mahogany desk. “A man’s plumbing is like his mind: simple, very few surprises. You ladies, on the other hand... well, God put a lot of thought into making you.” I wondered if he fed that bit about the plumbing to all of his couples.
“Lucky us,” Soraya said.
Dr. Rosen laughed. It fell a few notches short of genuine. He gave me a lab slip and a plastic jar, handed Soraya a request for some routine blood tests. We shook hands.
“Welcome aboard,” he said, as he showed us out.
I PASSED WITH FLYING COLORS.
The next few months were a blur of tests on Soraya: Basal body temperatures, blood tests for every conceivable hormone, urine tests, something called a “Cervical Mucus Test,” ultrasounds, more blood tests, and more urine tests. Soraya underwent a procedure called a hysteroscopy--Dr. Rosen inserted a telescope into Soraya’s uterus and took a look around. He found nothing. “The plumbing’s clear,” he announced, snapping off his latex gloves. I wished he’d stop calling it that--we weren’t bathrooms. When the tests were over, he explained that he couldn’t explain why we couldn’t have kids. And, apparently, that wasn’t so unusual. It was called “Unexplained Infertility.”
Then came the treatment phase. We tried a drug called Clomiphene, and hMG, a series of shots which Soraya gave to herself. When these failed, Dr. Rosen advised in vitro fertilization. We received a polite letter from our HMO, wishing us the best of luck, regretting they couldn’t cover the cost.

“有时生孩子需要花一点时间。”某天夜里我对索拉雅说。
“一年了，可不是一点时间，阿米尔！”她冷冷说，声音完全像变了一个人，“肯定有问题，我知道。”
“那么我们去看看大夫。”

罗森大夫大腹便便，脸蛋圆润，一口细牙齿相当整齐，说话稍微带点东欧口音，有些像斯拉夫人。他对火车情有独钟——他的办公室到处都是跟铁路历史有关的书籍、火车头模型，还有各种照片：铁轨上的火车穿过如黛青山或者桥梁。他的桌子上方悬挂着一条标语：生命如火车，请上车。
他替我们出谋策划。我先做检查。“男人简单些。”他说，手指在红木办公桌上轻轻敲打。“男人的管道就像他的头脑：简单，很少出入意外。你们女士就不同了……这么说吧，上帝造你们的时候花了很多心思。”我怀疑他是不是碰到每对夫妇，都要扯这套管道理论。
“我们真幸运。”索拉雅说。
罗森大夫大笑，不过笑声听上去很假。他给我一张测试纸和一个塑料罐，要求索拉雅定期做血检。我们握手作别。
“欢迎上车。”他说，请我们出去。
我通过了测试。
接下来几个月，索拉雅不断做检查：基础体温，抽血检查每一种所能想像得到的荷尔蒙，某种叫“子宫黏液测试”的检查，超声波，更多的血检，更多的尿检。索拉雅还接受了“宫腔镜”检查——罗森大夫将显微镜插进索拉雅的阴道，进行检视，他没发现异常。“管道很干净。”他一边脱掉橡胶手套，一边宣布。我希望他别这样称呼——我们又不是浴室！检查统统结束之后，他解释说他无法解释为什么我们怀不上小孩。而且，很显然，这并不罕见。这叫“原因不明性不孕症”。

接下来是治疗期。我们服用一种叫“克罗米芬”的药物，索拉雅还定期给自己注射“尿促性素”。这些全没效，罗森大夫建议我们考虑体外受孕。我们收到一封来自“健康维护组织”的信函，措辞礼貌，祝我们好运，并说恕不替我们支付那笔费用。