雙語名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(52)

12歲的阿富汗富家少爺阿米爾與仆人哈桑情同手足。然而，在一場(chǎng)風(fēng)箏比賽后，發(fā)生了一件悲慘不堪的事，阿米爾為自己的懦弱感到自責(zé)和痛苦，逼走了哈桑，不久，自己也跟隨父親逃往美國。

成年后的阿米爾始終無法原諒自己當(dāng)年對(duì)哈桑的背叛。為了贖罪，阿米爾再度踏上暌違二十多年的故鄉(xiāng)，希望能為不幸的好友盡最后一點(diǎn)心力，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)一個(gè)驚天謊言，兒時(shí)的噩夢(mèng)再度重演，阿米爾該如何抉擇?

故事如此殘忍而又美麗，作者以溫暖細(xì)膩的筆法勾勒人性的本質(zhì)與救贖，讀來令人蕩氣回腸。

下面就跟小編一起來欣賞雙語名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(52)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

I ran because I was a coward. I was afraid of Assef and what he would do to me. I was afraid of getting hurt. That’s what I told myself as I turned my back to the alley, to Hassan. That’s what I made myself believe. I actually aspired to cowardice, because the alternative, the real reason I was running, was that Assef was right: Nothing was free in this world. Maybe Hassan was the price I had to pay, the lamb I had to slay, to win Baba. Was it a fair price? The answer floated to my conscious mind before I could thwart it: He was just a Hazara, wasn’t he?
I ran back the way I’d come. Ran back to the all but deserted bazaar. I lurched to a cubicle and leaned against the padlocked swinging doors. I stood there panting, sweating, wishing things had turned out some other way.
About fifteen minutes later, I heard voices and running footfalls. I crouched behind the cubicle and watched Assef and the other two sprinting by, laughing as they hurried down the deserted lane. I forced myself to wait ten more minutes. Then I walked back to the rutted track that ran along the snow-filled ravine. I squinted in the dimming light and spotted Hassan walking slowly toward me. I met him by a leafless birch tree on the edge of the ravine.
He had the blue kite in his hands; that was the first thing I saw. And I can’t lie now and say my eyes didn’t scan it for any rips. His chapan had mud smudges down the front and his shirt was ripped just below the collar. He stopped. Swayed on his feet like he was going to collapse. Then he steadied himself. Handed me the kite.

“Where were you? I looked for you,” I said. Speaking those words was like chewing on a rock.
Hassan dragged a sleeve across his face, wiped snot and tears. I waited for him to say something, but we just stood there in silence, in the fading light. I was grateful for the early-evening shadows that fell on Hassan’s face and concealed mine. I was glad I didn’t have to return his gaze. Did he know I knew? And if he knew, then what would I see if I did look in his eyes? Blame? Indignation? Or, God forbid, what I feared most: guileless devotion? That, most of all, I couldn’t bear to see.
He began to say something and his voice cracked. He closed his mouth, opened it, and closed it again. Took a step back. Wiped his face. And that was as close as Hassan and I ever came to discussing what had happened in the alley. I thought he might burst into tears, but, to my relief, he didn’t, and I pretended I hadn’t heard the crack in his voice. Just like I pretended I hadn’t seen the dark stain in the seat of his pants. Or those tiny drops that fell from between his legs and stained the snow black.
“Agha sahib will worry,” was all he said. He turned from me and limped away.
IT HAPPENED JUST THE WAY I’d imagined. I opened the door to the smoky study and stepped in. Baba and Rahim Khan were drinking tea and listening to the news crackling on the radio. Their heads turned. Then a smile played on my father’s lips. He opened his arms. I put the kite down and walked into his thick hairy arms. I buried my face in the warmth of his chest and wept. Baba held me close to him, rocking me back and forth. In his arms, I forgot what I’d done. And that was good.

我逃跑，因?yàn)槲沂桥撤?。我害怕阿塞夫，害怕他折磨我。我害怕受到傷害。我轉(zhuǎn)身離開小巷、離開哈桑的時(shí)候，心里這樣對(duì)自己說。我試圖讓自己這么認(rèn)為。說真的，我寧愿相信自己是出于軟弱，因?yàn)榱硗獾拇鸢?，我逃跑的真正原因，是覺得阿塞夫說得對(duì)：這個(gè)世界沒有什么是免費(fèi)的。為了贏回爸爸，也許哈桑只是必須付出的代價(jià)，是我必須宰割的羔羊。這是個(gè)公平的代價(jià)嗎?我還來不及抑止，答案就從意識(shí)中冒出來：他只是個(gè)哈扎拉人，不是嗎?
我沿著來路跑回去，回到那個(gè)空無一人的市場(chǎng)。我跌撞上一家小店鋪，斜倚著那緊閉的推門。我站在那兒，氣喘吁吁，汗水直流，希望事情并沒有變成這個(gè)樣子。
約莫隔了十五分鐘，我聽到人聲，還有腳步聲。我躲在那家小店，望著阿塞夫和那兩個(gè)人走過，笑聲飄過空蕩蕩的過道。我強(qiáng)迫自己再等十分鐘。然后我走回到那條和冰封的小溪平行、滿是車痕的小巷。我在昏暗的光芒中瞇起眼睛，看見哈桑慢慢朝我走來。在河邊一棵光禿禿的樺樹下，我和他相遇。
他手里拿著那只藍(lán)風(fēng)箏，那是我第一眼看到的東西。時(shí)至今日，我無法扯謊說自己當(dāng)時(shí)沒有查看風(fēng)箏是否有什么裂痕。他的長袍前方沾滿泥土，襯衣領(lǐng)子下面開裂。他站著，雙腿搖搖晃晃，似乎隨時(shí)都會(huì)倒下。接著他站穩(wěn)了，把風(fēng)箏遞給我。
“你到哪里去了?我在找你?！蔽移D難地說，仿佛在吞嚼一塊石頭。
哈桑伸手用衣袖擦擦臉，抹去眼淚和鼻涕。我等待他開口，但我們只是靜靜地站在那兒，在消逝的天光中。我很感謝夜幕降臨，遮住了哈桑的臉，也掩蓋了我的面龐。我很高興我不用看著他的眼睛。他知道我知道嗎?如果他知道，我能從他眼里看到什么呢?埋怨?恥辱?或者，愿真主制止，我最怕看到的：真誠的奉獻(xiàn)。所有這些里，那是我最不愿看到的。
他開始說些什么，但他有點(diǎn)哽咽。他閉上嘴巴，張開，又閉上，往后退了一步，擦擦他的臉。就在當(dāng)時(shí)，我?guī)缀蹙鸵凸Ｕ務(wù)撈鹪谛∠锢镱^發(fā)生的事情來。我原以為他會(huì)痛哭流涕，但，謝天謝地，他沒有，而我假裝沒有聽到他喉嚨的哽咽。就像我假裝沒有看到他褲子后面深色的污漬一樣。也假裝沒有看到從他雙腿之間滴下的血滴，它們滴下來，將雪地染成黑色。
“老爺會(huì)擔(dān)心的?！彼驼f了這么一句。他轉(zhuǎn)過頭，蹣跚著走開。
事情就如我想像的那樣。我打開門，走進(jìn)那煙霧繚繞的書房。爸爸和拉辛汗在喝茶，聽著收音機(jī)傳出的劈里啪啦的新聞。他們轉(zhuǎn)過頭，接著爸爸嘴角亮起一絲笑容，他張開雙手，我把臉埋在他溫暖的胸膛上，哭起來。爸爸緊緊抱著我，不斷撫摸著我的后背。在他懷里，我忘了自己的所作所為。那感覺真好。