按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
ehind them。
Aren t you going to take it； Amir？ Baba was saying。 Huh？
Your present； he said testily。 Assefjan is giving you a present。
Oh； I said。 I took the box from Assef and lowered my gaze。 I wished I could be alone in my room； with my books； away from these people。
Well？ Baba said。
What？
Baba spoke in a low voice； the one he took on whenever I embarrassed him in public。 Aren t you going to thank Assef jan？ That was very considerate of him。
I wished Baba would stop calling him that。 How often did he call me Amir jan ？ Thanks； I said。 Assef s mother looked at me like she wanted to say something； but she didn t； and I realized that neither of Assef s parents had said a word。 Before I could embarrass myself and Baba anymore……but mostly to get away from Assef and his grin……I stepped away。 Thanks for ing； I said。
I squirmed my way through the throng of guests and slipped through the wrought…iron gates。 Two houses down from our house； there was a large； barren dirt lot。 I d heard Baba tell Rahim Khan that a judge had bought the land and that an architect was working on the design。 For now； the lot was bare； save for dirt； stones； and weeds。
I tore the wrapping paper from Assef s present and tilted the book cover in the moonlight。 It was a biography of Hitler。 I threw it amid a tangle of weeds。
I leaned against the neighbor s wall； slid down to the ground。 I just sat in the dark for a while； knees drawn to my chest； looking up at the stars； waiting for the night to be over。
Shouldn t you be entertaining your guests？ a familiar voice said。 Rahim Khan was walking toward me along the wall。
They don t need me for that。 Baba s there； remember？ I said。 The ice in Rahim Khan s drink clinked when he sat next to me。 I didn t know you drank。
Turns out I do； he said。 Elbowed me playfully。 But only on the most important occasions。
I smiled。 Thanks。
He tipped his drink to me and took a sip。 He lit a cigarette； one of the unfiltered Pakistani cigarettes he and Baba were always smoking。 Did I ever tell you I was almost married once？
Really？ I said； smiling a little at the notion of Rahim Khan getting married。 I d always thought of him as Baba s quiet alter ego； my writing mentor； my pal； the one who never forgot to bring me a souvenir； a saughat； when he returned from a trip abroad。 But a husband？ A father？
He nodded。 It s true。 I was eighteen。 Her name was Homaira。 She was a Hazara； the daughter of our neighbor s servants。 She was as beautiful as a pari； light brown hair； big hazel eyes。。。 she had this laugh。。。 I can still hear it sometimes。 He twirled his glass。 We used to meet secretly in my father s apple orchards； always after midnight when everyone had gone to sleep。 We d walk under the trees and I d hold her hand。。。 Am I embarrassing you； Amir jan？
A little； I said。
It won t kill you； he said； taking another puff。 Anyway； we had this fantasy。 We d have a great； fancy wedding and invite family and friends from Kabul to Kandahar。 I would build us a big house； white with a tiled patio and large windows。 We would plan