殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(42)

THE STREETS GLISTENED with fresh snow and the sky was a blameless blue. Snow blanketed every rooftop and weighed on the branches of the stunted mulberry trees that lined our street. Overnight, snow had nudged its way into every crack and gutter. I squinted against the blinding white when Hassan and I stepped through the wrought-iron gates. Ali shut the gates behind us. I heard him mutter a prayer under his breath--he always said a prayer when his son left the house.

街上新霽的積雪銀光閃閃，天空藍得無可挑剔。雪花覆蓋了每一個屋頂，矮小的桑椹樹在我們這條街排開，樹枝上也堆滿了積雪。一夜之間，雪花塞滿了所有的裂縫和水溝。哈桑和我走出鍛鐵大門時，雪花反射出白晃晃的光芒，照得我睜不開眼。阿里在我們身後關上門。我聽見他低聲祈禱--每次他兒子外出，他總是要祈禱。

I had never seen so many people on our street. Kids were flinging snowballs, squabbling, chasing one another, giggling. Kite fighters were huddling with their spool holders, making lastminute preparations. From adjacent streets, I could hear laughter and chatter. Already, rooftops were jammed with spectators reclining in lawn chairs, hot tea steaming from thermoses, and the music of Ahmad Zahir blaring from cassette players. The immensely popular Ahmad Zahir had revolutionized Afghan music and outraged the purists by adding electric guitars, drums, and horns to the traditional tabla and harmonium; on stage or at parties, he shirked the austere and nearly morose stance of older singers and actually smiled when he sang--sometimes even at women. I turned my gaze to our rooftop, found Baba and Rahim Khan sitting on a bench, both dressed in wool sweaters, sipping tea. Baba waved. I couldn't tell if he was waving at me or Hassan.

我從來沒有見到街上有這麼多人。兒童在打雪仗，拌嘴，相互追逐，咯咯笑着。風箏鬥士和幫他們拿卷軸的人擠在一起，做最後的準備。周圍的街道傳來歡聲笑語，各處屋頂已經擠滿了看客，他們斜躺在摺疊椅上，暖水壺裏的紅茶熱氣騰騰，錄音機傳出艾哈邁德·查希爾（AhmadZahir 1946～1979，阿富汗歌星）喧鬧的音樂。風靡全國的艾哈邁德·查希爾改進了阿富汗音樂，給傳統的手鼓和手風琴配上電吉他、小號和鼓，激怒了那些保守的教徒。無論在臺上表演還是開派對，他都跟以前那些呆板的歌手不同，他拒絕木無表情的演出，而是邊唱邊微笑--有時甚至對女人微笑。我朝自家的屋頂看去，發現爸爸和拉辛汗坐在一張長凳上，兩人都穿着羊毛衫，喝着茶。爸爸揮揮手，我不知道他究竟是跟我還是跟哈桑打招呼。

"We should get started," Hassan said. He wore black rubber snow boots and a bright green chapan over a thick sweater and faded corduroy pants. Sunlight washed over his face, and, in it, I saw how well the pink scar above his lip had healed.

"我們得開始了。"哈桑說。他穿着一雙黑色的橡膠雪靴，厚厚的羊毛衫和褪色的燈芯絨褲外面，罩着綠色的長袍。陽光照在他臉上，我看到他脣上那道粉紅色的傷痕已經彌合得很好了。

Suddenly I wanted to withdraw. Pack it all in, go back Home. What was I thinking? Why was I putting myself through this, when I already knew the outcome? Baba was on the roof, watching me. I felt his glare on me like the heat of a blistering sun. This would be failure on a grand scale, even for me.

突然間我想放棄，把東西收起來，轉身回家。我在想什麼呢?我既然已經知道結局，何必還要讓自己來體驗這一切呢?爸爸在屋頂上，看着我。我覺得他的眼光像太陽那樣熱得令人發燙。今天，即使是我，也必定難逃慘敗。

"I'm not sure I want to fly a kite today," I said.

"我有點不想在今天放風箏了。"我說。

"It's a beautiful day," Hassan said.

"今天是個好日子。"哈桑說。

I shifted on my feet. Tried to peel my gaze away from our rooftop. "I don't know. Maybe we should go Home."

我轉動雙腳，試圖讓眼光離開我們家的屋頂。"我不知道，也許我們該回家去。"

Then he stepped toward me and, in a low voice, said something that scared me a little. "Remember, Amir agha. There's no monster, just a beautiful day." How could I be such an open book to him when, half the time, I had no idea what was milling around in his head? I was the one who went to school, the one who could read, write. I was the smart one. Hassan couldn't read a firstgrade textbook but he'd read me plenty. That was a little unsettling, but also sort of comfortable to have someone who always knew what you needed.

接着他上前一步，低聲說了一句讓我有些吃驚的話。"記住，阿米爾少爺，沒有鬼怪，只是個好日子。"我對他腦海盤桓的念頭常常一無所知，可是我在他面前怎麼就像一本打開的書?到學校上學的人是我，會讀書寫字的人是我，聰明伶俐的也是我。哈桑雖然看不懂一年級的課本，卻能看穿我。這讓人不安，可是有人永遠對你的需求瞭如指掌，畢竟也叫人寬心。