殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(63)

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 coming,” 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.”

爸爸放低了聲音，每次我當衆給他難堪，他就會這樣,“你不謝謝親愛的阿塞夫嗎?他太周到了。”

我希望爸爸別那樣叫他，他叫過我幾次“親愛的阿米爾”呢?“謝謝。”我說。阿塞夫的母親看着我，欲言又止。我意識到阿塞夫的雙親還沒說過一句話。爲了不再讓我自己和爸爸難堪——但主要是因爲不想看到阿塞夫和他的笑臉——我走開了。“謝謝你來。”我說。

我從擁擠的賓客中走出來，偷偷溜出那扇鍛鐵大門。我們家往下兩座房子，有一片很大的空地。我聽爸爸告訴拉辛汗，有個法官買下了那片地，建築師正在設計藍圖。現在，那塊地皮是荒蕪的，只有泥土、石塊和野草。
我扯開阿塞夫的禮物外面那層包裝紙，藉着月光端詳書的封面。那是一本希特勒自傳。我將它扔在雜草中。
我倚着鄰居的牆壁，滑坐在地上，只是在黑暗中坐一會兒，膝蓋抵着胸膛，擡眼望着星星，等着夜晚結束。
“你不用去陪你的客人嗎?”一個熟悉的聲音說，拉辛汗沿着牆壁朝我走來。
“他們不用我陪。爸爸在那邊呢，你忘了?”我說。拉辛汗酒杯中的冰塊叮咚響，他坐在我身邊。“我不知道原來你也喝酒。”
“我喝酒，”他說，高興地用手肘撞了我一下，“不過只有在重要的場合才喝。”
我微笑:“謝謝。”