Her good eye rolled to him. “I have walked long and far to see if you are as beautiful in the flesh as you are in my dreams. And you are. Even more.” She pulled his hand to her scarred face. “Smile for me. Please.”Hassan did and the old woman wept. “You smiled coming out of me, did anyone ever tell you? And I wouldn’t even hold you. Allah forgive me, I wouldn’t even hold you.”None of us had seen Sanaubar since she had eloped with a band of singers and dancers in 1964, just after she had given birth to Hassan. You never saw her, Amir, but in her youth, she was a vision. She had a dimpled smile and a walk that drove men crazy. No one who passed her on the street, be it a man or a woman, could look at her only once. And now... Hassan dropped her hand and bolted out of the house. I went after him, but he was too fast. I saw him running up the hill where you two used to play, his feet kicking up plumes of dust. I let him go. I sat with Sanaubar all day as the sky went from bright blue to purple. Hassan still had not come back when night fell and moonlight bathed the clouds. Sanaubar cried that coming back had been a mistake, maybe even a worse one than leaving. But I made her stay. Hassan would return, I came back the next morning, looking tired and weary, like he had not slept all night. He took Sanaubar’s hand in both of his and told her she could cry if she wanted to but she needn’t, she was home now, he said, home with her family. He touched the scars on her face, and ran his hand through her hair. Hassan and Farzana nursed her back to health. They fed her and washed her clothes. I gave her one of the guest rooms upstairs. Sometimes, I would look out the window into the yard and watch Hassan and his mother kneeling together, picking tomatoes or trimming a rosebush, talking. They were catching up on all the lost years, I suppose. As far as I know, he never asked where she had been or why she had left and she never told. I guess some stories do not need telling. It was Sanaubar who delivered Hassan’s son that winter of 1990. It had not started snowing yet, but the winter winds were blowing through the yards, bending the flowerbeds and rustling the leaves. I remember Sanaubar came out of the hut holding her grandson, had him wrapped in a wool blanket. She stood beaming under a dull gray sky tears streaming down her cheeks, the needle-cold wind blowing her hair, and clutching that baby in her arms like she never wanted to let go. Not this time. She handed him to Hassan and he handed him to me and I sang the prayer of Ayat-ul-kursi in that little boy’s ear. They named him Sohrab, after Hassan’s favorite hero from the _Shahnamah_, as you know, Amir jan. He was a beautiful little boy, sweet as sugar, and had the same temperament as his father. You should have seen Sanaubar with that baby, Amir jan. He became the center of her existence. She sewed clothes for him, built him toys from scraps of wood, rags, and dried grass. When he caught a fever, she stayed up all night, and fasted for three days. She burned isfand for him on a skillet to cast out nazar, the evil eye. By the time Sohrab was two, he was calling her Sasa. The two of them were inseparable. “我走了很久很遠，來看看你是否像我夢中見到那樣英俊。你是的。甚至更好看。”她拉着他的手，貼近她傷痕累累的臉龐。“朝我笑一笑，求求你。”哈桑笑了，那個老婦人流出淚水。“你的笑是從我這裏來的，有沒有人告訴過你？而我甚至沒有抱過你。願安拉寬恕我，我甚至沒有抱過你。”自從莎娜芭1964年剛生下哈桑不久就跟着一羣藝人跑掉之後，我們再也沒人見過她。你從來沒見過她，阿米爾，但她年輕的時候，她是個美人。她微笑起來臉帶酒窩，步履款款，令男人發狂。凡是在街上見到她的人，無論是男的還是女的，都會忍不住再看她一眼。而現在…… 哈桑放下她的手，衝出房子。我跟着他後面，但他跑得太快了。我看見他跑上那座你們兩個以前玩耍的山丘，他的腳步踢起陣陣塵土。我任他走開。我整天坐在莎娜芭身邊，看着天空由澄藍變成紫色。夜幕降臨，月亮在雲層中穿梭，哈桑仍沒回來。莎娜芭哭着說回來是一個錯誤，也許比當年離家出走錯得更加厲害。但我安撫她。哈桑會回來的，我知道。隔日早上他回來了，看上去疲累而憔悴，似乎徹夜未睡。他雙手捧起莎娜芭的手，告訴她，如果她想哭就哭吧，但她不用哭，現在她在家裏了，他說，在家裏和家人在一起。他撫摸着她臉上的傷疤，把手伸進她的頭髮裏面。 在哈桑和法莎娜照料下，她康復了。他們喂她吃飯，替她洗衣服。我讓她住在樓上一間客房裏面。有時我會從窗戶望出去，看見哈桑和他母親跪在院子裏，摘番茄，或者修剪薔薇籬笆，彼此交談。他們在補償所有失去的那些歲月，我猜想。就我所知，他從來沒有問起她到哪裏去了，或者爲什麼要離開，而她也沒有說。我想有些事情不用說出來。1990年冬天，莎娜芭把哈桑的兒子接生出來。那時還沒有下雪，但冬天的寒風呼嘯着吹過院子，吹彎了苗圃裏的花兒，吹落了樹葉。我記得莎娜芭用一塊羊毛毯抱着她的孫子，將他從小屋裏面抱出來。她站在陰暗的灰色天空下，喜悅溢於言表，淚水從她臉上流下，刺人的寒風吹起她的頭髮，她死死抱着那個孩子，彷彿永遠不肯放手。這次不會了。她把他交給哈桑，哈桑把他遞給我，我在那個男嬰耳邊，輕輕唱起《可蘭經》的經文。他們給他起名索拉博，那是《沙納瑪》裏面哈桑最喜歡的英雄，你知道的，親愛的阿米爾。他是個漂亮的小男孩，甜蜜得像糖一樣，而性子跟他爸爸毫無二致。你應該看看莎娜芭帶那個孩子，親愛的阿米爾。他變成她生活的中心，她給他縫衣服，用木塊、破布和稻稈給他做玩具。他要是發熱，她會整晚睡不着，齋戒三天。她在鍋裏燒掉一本回歷，說是驅走魔鬼的眼睛。索拉博兩歲的時候，管她叫“莎莎”。他們兩個形影不離。
