《the kite runner》

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the kite runner- 第95部分


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itting the way his father used to; chin resting on one knee。
 I m his half uncle; does that count for anything? 
 It does if you can prove it。 I m sorry; do you have any papers or anyone who can support you? 
 No papers;  I said; in a tired voice。  No one knew about it。 Sohrab didn t know until I told him; and I myself didn t find out until recently。 The only other person who knows is gone; maybe dead。 
 What are my options; Omar? 
 I ll be frank。 You don t have a lot of them。 
 Well; Jesus; what can I do? 
Omar breathed in; tapped his chin with the pen; let his breath out。  You could still file an orphan petition; hope for the best。 You could do an independent adoption。 That means you d have to live with Sohrab here in Pakistan; day in and day out; for the next two years。 You could seek asylum on his behalf。 That s a lengthy process and you d have to prove political persecution。 You could request a humanitarian visa。 That s at the discretion of the attorney general and it s not easily given。  He paused。  There is another option; probably your best shot。 
 What?  I said; leaning forward。
 You could relinquish him to an orphanage here; then file an orphan petition。 Start your I…600 form and your home study while he s in a safe place。 
 What are those? 
 I m sorry; the 1…600 is an INS formality。 The home study is done by the adoption agency you choose;  Omar said。  It s; you know; to make sure you and your wife aren t raving lunatics。 
 I don t want to do that;  I said; looking again at Sohrab。  I promised him I wouldn t send him back to an orphanage。 
 Like I said; it may be your best shot。 
We talked a while longer。 Then I walked him out to his car; an old VW Bug。 The sun was setting on Islamabad by then; a flaming red nimbus in the west。 I watched the car tilt under Omar s weight as he somehow managed to slide in behind the wheel。 He rolled down the window。  Amir? 
 Yes。 
 I meant to tell you in there; about what you re trying to do? I think it s pretty great。 
He waved as he pulled away。 Standing outside the hotel room and waving back; I wished Soraya could be there with me。
SOHRAB HAD TURNED OFF THE TV when l went back into the room。 I sat on the edge of my bed; asked him to sit next to me。  Mr。 Faisal thinks there is a way I can take you to America with me;  I said。
 He does?  Sohrab said; smiling faintly for the first time in days。  When can we go? 
 Well; that s the thing。 It might take a little while。 But he said it can be done and he s going to help us。  I put my hand on the back of his neck。 From outside; the call to prayer blared through the streets。
 How long?  Sohrab asked。
 I don t know。 A while。 
Sohrab shrugged and smiled; wider this time。  I don t mind。 I can wait。 It s like the sour apples。 
 Sour apples? 
 One time; when I was really little; I climbed a tree and ate these green; sour apples。 My stomach swelled and became hard like a drum; it hurt a lot。 Mother said that if I d just waited for the apples to ripen; I wouldn t have bee sick。 So now; whenever I really want something; I try to remember what she said about the apples。 
 Sour apples;  I said。  _Mashallah_; you re just about the smartest little guy I ve ever met; Sohrab jan。  His ears reddened with a blush。
 Will you take me to that red bridge? The one with the fog?  he said。
 Absolutely;  I said。  Absolutely。 
 And we ll drive up those streets; the ones where all you see is the hood of the car and the sky? 
 Every single one of them;  I said。 My eyes stung with tears and I blinked them away。
 Is English hard to learn? 
 I say; within a year; you ll speak it as well as Farsi。 
 Really? 
 Yes。  I placed a finger under his chin; turned his face up to mine。  There is one other thing; Sohrab。 
 What? 
 Well; Mr。 Faisal thinks that it would really help if we could。。。 if we could ask you to stay in a home for kids for a while。 
 Home for kids?  he said; his smile fading。  You mean an orphanage? 
 It would only be for a little while。 
 No;  he said。  No; please。 
 Sohrab; it would be for just a little while。 I promise。 
 You promised you d never put me in one of those places; Amir agha;  he said。 His voice was breaking; tears pooling in his eyes。 I felt like a prick。
 This is different。 It would be here; in Islamabad; not in Kabul。 And I d visit you all the time until we can get you out and take you to America。 
 Please! Please; no!  he croaked。  I m scared of that place。 They ll hurt me! I don t want to go。 
 No one is going to hurt you。 Not ever again。 
 Yes they will! They always say they won t but they lie。 They lie! Please; God! 
I wiped the tear streaking down his cheek with my thumb。  Sour apples; remember? It s just like the sour apples;  I said softly。
 No it s not。 Not that place。 God; oh God。 Please; no!  He was trembling; snot and tears mixing on his face。
 Shhh。  I pulled him close; wrapped my arms around his shaking little body。  Shhh。 It ll be all right。 We ll go home together。 You ll see; it ll be all right。 
His voice was muffled against my chest; but I heard the panic in it。  Please promise you won t! Oh God; Amir agha! Please promise you won t! 
How could I promise? I held him against me; held him tightly; and rocked badk and forth。 He wept into my shirt until his tears dried; until his shaking stopped and his frantic pleas dwindled to indecipherable mumbles。 I waited; rocked him until his breathing slowed and his body slackened。 I remembered something I had read somewhere a long time ago: That s how children deal with terror。 They fall asleep。
I carried him to his bed; set him down。 Then I lay in my own bed; looking out the window at th
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