雙語名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(91)

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心力，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)一個驚天謊言，兒時的噩夢再度重演，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(91)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

“Hey, man, this guy needs help!” the Filipino man said with alarm. I turned around and found Baba on the ground. His arms and legs were jerking.
“Komak!” I cried. “Somebody help!” I ran to Baba. He was frothing at the mouth, the foamy spittle soaking his beard. His upturned eyes showed nothing but white.
People were rushing to us. I heard someone say seizure. Some one else yelling, “Call 911!” I heard running footsteps. The sky darkened as a crowd gathered around us.
Baba’s spittle turned red. He was biting his tongue. I kneeled beside him and grabbed his arms and said I’m here Baba, I’m here, you’ll be all right, I’m right here. As if I could soothe the convulsions out of him. Talk them into leaving my Baba alone. I felt a wetness on my knees. Saw Baba’s bladder had let go. Shhh, Baba jan, I’m here. Your son is right here.
THE DOCTOR, white-bearded and perfectly bald, pulled me out of the room. “I want to go over your father’s CAT scans with you,” he said. He put the films up on a viewing box in the hallway and pointed with the eraser end of his pencil to the pictures of Baba’s cancer, like a cop showing mug shots of the killer to the victim’s family. Baba’s brain on those pictures looked like cross sections of a big walnut, riddled with tennis ball-shaped gray things.
“As you can see, the cancer’s metastasized,” he said. “He’ll have to take steroids to reduce the swelling in his brain and antiseizure medications. And I’d recommend palliative radiation. Do you know what that means?”
I said I did. I’d become conversant in cancer talk.
“All right, then,” he said. He checked his beeper. “I have to go, but you can have me paged if you have any questions.”
“Thank you.”
I spent the night sitting on a chair next to Baba’s bed.
THE NEXT MORNING, the waiting room down the hall was jammed with Afghans. The butcher from Newark. An engineer who’d worked with Baba on his orphanage. They filed in and paid Baba their respects in hushed tones. Wished him a swift recovery. Baba was awake then, groggy and tired, but awake.
Midmorning, General Taheri and his wife came. Soraya followed. We glanced at each other, looked away at the same time. “How are you, my friend?” General Taheri said, taking Baba’s hand.
Baba motioned to the IV hanging from his arm. Smiled thinly. The general smiled back.
“You shouldn’t have burdened yourselves. All of you,” Baba croaked.
“It’s no burden,” Khanum Taheri said.

“喂，小子，這個家伙需要幫忙!”菲律賓人焦急地喊道。我轉(zhuǎn)過身，發(fā)現(xiàn)爸爸倒在地上，四肢抽搐。
“救命!”我大喊，“來人啊!”我奔向爸爸。他口吐白沫，流出的泡泡浸濕了胡子。他眼珠上翻，只見一片白。
大家都朝我們涌過來。我聽見有人說發(fā)作了，另外有人說“快打911!”，我聽見一陣跑步聲。人群圍過來，天空變得陰暗。
爸爸的泡沫變紅了，他在咬自己的舌頭。我跪在他身旁，抓住他的手臂，說我在這里爸爸，我在這里，你會好的，我就在這里。好像如此這般，我就能減緩他的病痛，讓它們不再煩我爸爸。我感到膝蓋一片潮濕。爸爸小便失禁了。噓，親愛的爸爸，我在這里。你的兒子就在這里。
那個白胡子的大夫頭頂油光可鑒，把我拉出病房。“我想跟你一起看看你爸爸的CAT掃描。”他說。他把菲林放在走廊的燈箱上，用鉛筆帶橡皮擦的那頭指著爸爸的癌癥所在的圖片，好像警察將兇手的大頭像展示給罹難者的家屬看。在那些照片上，爸爸的大腦看起來像個胡桃的切面，點綴著幾個網(wǎng)球狀的灰色陰影。
“正如你看到的，癌癥轉(zhuǎn)移了。”他說，“他必須服用類固醇，以便縮減他大腦里的腫塊，還得吃抗中風(fēng)的藥物。我建議做放射線治療，你明白的我意思嗎?”
我說我明白。我已經(jīng)熟悉癌癥的相關(guān)術(shù)語了。
“那就好，”他說，看看他的尋呼機，“我得走了，不過如果你有任何問題，可以給我打傳呼?！?br />“謝謝你。”
那天晚上，我徹夜坐在爸爸床邊的椅子上。
翌日早晨，走廊那端的候診室擠滿了阿富汗人，有紐瓦克來的屠夫，爸爸建造恤孤院時的工程師。他們紛紛走進來，語調(diào)沉痛地向爸爸表達他們的敬意，祝福他盡早康復(fù)。那時爸爸已經(jīng)醒了，他虛弱而疲倦，但清醒。
早晨過了一半，塔赫里將軍和他太太也來了。索拉雅跟在后面，我們對望了一眼，同時將眼光移開。“你好嗎，老朋友?！彼绽飳④娬f，捂著爸爸的手。
爸爸示意他看著臂上的輸液管，露出孱弱的微笑。將軍回以微笑。
“你們不應(yīng)如此麻煩的，你們大家?！卑职稚胍髦f。
“這不麻煩?！彼绽锾f。