殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(53)

EIGHT
For a week, I barely saw Hassan. I woke up to find toasted bread, brewed tea, and a boiled egg already on the kitchen table. My clothes for the day were ironed and folded, left on the cane-seat chair in the foyer where Hassan usually did his ironing. He used to wait for me to sit at the breakfast table before he started ironing--that way, we could talk. Used to sing too, over the hissing of the iron, sang old Hazara songs about tulip fields. Now only the folded clothes greeted me. That, and a breakfast I hardly finished anymore.
One overcast morning, as I was pushing the boiled egg around on my plate, Ali walked in cradling a pile of chopped wood. I asked him where Hassan was.
“He went back to sleep,” Ali said, kneeling before the stove. He pulled the little square door open.
Would Hassan be able to play today?
Ali paused with a log in his hand. A worried look crossed his face. “Lately, it seems all he wants to do is sleep. He does his chores--I see to that--but then he just wants to crawl under his blanket. Can I ask you something?”
“If you have to.”
“After that kite tournament, he came home a little bloodied and his shirt was torn. I asked him what had happened and he said it was nothing, that he’d gotten into a little scuffle with some kids over the kite.”
I didn’t say anything. Just kept pushing the egg around on my plate.
“Did something happen to him, Amir agha? Something he’s not telling me?”
I shrugged. “How should I know?”
“You would tell me, nay? _Inshallah_, you would tell me if some thing had happened?”
“Like I said, how should I know what’s wrong with him?” I snapped. “Maybe he’s sick. People get sick all the time, Ali. Now, am I going to freeze to death or are you planning on lighting the stove today?”

第八章
有一個星期，我幾乎沒有看見哈桑。我起牀，發現麪包已經烤好，茶已經泡好，還有個水煮蛋，統統放在廚房的桌子上。我當天要穿的衣服已經熨好疊好，擺在門廊的藤椅上，過去哈桑就在那兒熨衣服。他總是等我坐下來吃早餐才熨——這樣我們就有機會談談心了。過去他還唱歌，在熨斗的嘶嘶聲中，哼着那些古老的哈扎拉民謠，歌唱那鬱金香盛開的原野。現在迎接我的，只有疊好的衣服，此外，還有那頓我已經吃不下去的早餐。
某個陰天的早晨，我正在撥弄着餐盤裏的水煮蛋。阿里揹着一捆劈好的柴走進來，我問他哈桑到哪裏去了。
“他回去睡覺了。”阿里說，他在火爐前跪低，拉開那個小方門。
“哈桑今天會陪我玩嗎?”
阿里怔了怔，手裏拿着一根木頭，臉上掠過一絲擔憂。“遲些吧，看起來他只想睡覺。他把活幹完——我看着他做完——可是隨後他就只願意裹在毛毯下面了。我能問你一些事情嗎?”
“你問吧。”
“風箏比賽過後，他回家的時候有點流血，襯衣也破了。我問他發生什麼事情了，他說沒事，只是在爭風箏的時候跟幾個小孩發生了衝突。”
我什麼也沒說，只是繼續在盤子裏撥弄着那個雞蛋。
“他到底怎麼了，阿米爾少爺?他對我隱瞞了什麼嗎?”
我聳聳肩:“我哪裏知道?”
“你會告訴我的，對嗎?安拉保佑，如果你知道發生了什麼事，你會告訴我嗎?”
“就像我說的，我哪裏知道他出了什麼問題?”我不耐煩地說，“也許他生病了。人們總是會生病的，阿里。看吧，你想凍死我呢，還是準備給爐子點火?”