殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(68)

THEY’D BOTH BEEN CRYING; I could tell from their red, puffed up eyes. They stood before Baba, hand in hand, and I wondered how and when I’d become capable of causing this kind of pain.
Baba came right out and asked. “Did you steal that money? Did you steal Amir’s watch, Hassan?”
Hassan’s reply was a single word, delivered in a thin, raspy voice: “Yes.”
I flinched, like I’d been slapped. My heart sank and I almost blurted out the truth. Then I understood: This was Hassan’s final sacrifice for me. If he’d said no, Baba would have believed him because we all knew Hassan never lied. And if Baba believed him, then I’d be the accused; I would have to explain and I would be revealed for what I really was. Baba would never, ever forgive me. And that led to another understanding: Hassan knew He knew I’d seen everything in that alley, that I’d stood there and done nothing. He knew I had betrayed him and yet he was rescuing me once again, maybe for the last time. I loved him in that moment, loved him more than I’d ever loved anyone, and I wanted to tell them all that I was the snake in the grass, the monster in the lake. I wasn’t worthy of this sacrifice; I was a liar, a cheat, and a thief. And I would have told, except that a part of me was glad. Glad that this would all be over with soon. Baba would dismiss them, there would be some pain, but life would moveon. I wanted that, to move on, to forget, to start with a clean slate. I wanted to be able to breathe again.
Except Baba stunned me by saying, “I forgive you.”
Forgive? But theft was the one unforgivable sin, the common denominator of all sins. When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. There is no act more wretched than stealing. Hadn’t Baba sat me on his lap and said those words to me? Then how could he just forgive Hassan? And if Baba could forgive that, then why couldn’t he forgive me for not being the son he’d always wanted? Why--“We are leaving, Agha sahib,” Ali said. “What?” Baba said, the color draining from his face.
“We can’t live here anymore,” Ali said.

他們雙眼紅腫，我敢肯定他們一定哭過。他們手拉手站在爸爸面前，而我則尋思自己究竟在什麼時候具有造成這種痛苦的能力。
爸爸開門見山，問道:“錢是你偷的嗎?你偷了阿米爾的手錶嗎，哈桑?”
哈桑的回答簡單得只有一個字，以他嘶啞孱弱的聲音說:“是。”
我身體緊縮，好似被人扇了個耳光。我的心一沉，真話差點脫口而出。我隨即明白：這是哈桑最後一次爲我犧牲。如果他說“不是”，爸爸肯定相信，因爲我們都知道哈桑從來不騙人。若爸爸相信他，那麼矛頭就轉向我了，我不得不辯解，我的真面目終究會被看穿，爸爸將永遠永遠不會原諒我。這讓我明白了另外的事情：哈桑知道。他知道我看到了小巷裏面的一切，知道我站在那兒，袖手旁觀。他明知我背叛了他，然而還是再次救了我，也許是最後一次。那一刻我愛上了他，愛他勝過愛任何人，我只想告訴他們，我就是草叢裏面的毒蛇，湖底的鬼怪。我不配他作出的犧牲，我是撒謊蛋，我是騙子，我是小偷。我幾乎就要說出來，若非心裏隱隱有高興的念頭。高興是因爲這一切很快就要終結了，爸爸會趕走他們，也許會有些痛苦，但生活會繼續。那是我所想要的，要繼續生活，要遺忘，要將過去一筆勾銷，從頭來過。我想要能重新呼吸。
然而爸爸說出了讓我震驚的話:“我原諒你。”
原諒?可是盜竊是不能被原諒的罪行啊，是所有罪行的原型啊。當你殺害一個人，你偷走一條性命，你偷走他妻子身爲人婦的權利，奪走他子女的父親。當你說謊，你偷走別人知道真相的權利。當你詐騙，你偷走公平的權利。沒有比盜竊更十惡不赦的事情了。難道爸爸沒有將我抱在膝蓋上，對我說出這番話嗎?那麼他對哈桑怎麼可以只是原諒了事?而且，如果爸爸肯原諒這樣的事情，那麼他爲何不肯原諒我，僅僅是因爲我沒有成爲他所期許的兒子?爲什麼……
“我們要走了，老爺。”阿里說。