殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(107)

We used the advance I had received for my novel to pay for it. IVF proved lengthy, meticulous, frustrating, and ultimately unsuccessful. After months of sitting in waiting rooms reading magazines like Good Housekeeping and Reader’s Digest, after endless paper gowns and cold, sterile exam rooms lit by fluorescent lights, the repeated humiliation of discussing every detail of our sex life with a total stranger, the injections and probes and specimen collections, we went back to Dr. Rosen and his trains.
He sat across from us, tapped his desk with his fingers, and used the word “adoption” for the first time. Soraya cried all the way home.
Soraya broke the news to her parents the weekend after our last visit with Dr. Rosen. We were sitting on picnic chairs in the Taheris’ backyard, grilling trout and sipping yogurt dogh. It was an early evening in March 1991. Khala Jamila had watered the roses and her new honeysuckles, and their fragrance mixed with the smell of cooking fish. Twice already, she had reached across her chair to caress Soraya’s hair and say, “God knows best, bachem. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”
Soraya kept looking down at her hands. She was tired, I knew, tired of it all. “The doctor said we could adopt,” she murmured.
General Taheri’s head snapped up at this. He closed the barbecue lid. “He did?”
“He said it was an option,” Soraya said.
We’d talked at home about adoption. Soraya was ambivalent at best. “I know it’s silly and maybe vain,” she said to me on the way to her parents’ house, “but I can’t help it. I’ve always dreamed that I’d hold it in my arms and know my blood had fed it for nine months, that I’d look in its eyes one day and be startled to see you or me, that the baby would grow up and have your smile or mine. Without that... Is that wrong?”
“No,” I had said.
“Am I being selfish?”
“No, Soraya.”
“Because if you really want to do it...”

我們動用我那本小說的預付金支付了治療費用。體外受孕繁瑣冗長，令人沮喪，最終也沒有成功。好幾個月在候診室翻閱諸如《時尚好管家》、《讀者文摘》之類的雜誌之後，穿過無數紙袍、走進一間間點着熒光燈的冰冷無菌檢查室之後，一次次屈辱地跟素昧平生的人談論我們性生活的每一個細節之後，無數次注射、探針和採集精子之後，我們回去找羅森大夫和他的火車。
他坐在我們對面，用手指敲着桌子，第一次用了“收養”這個字眼。索拉雅一路上哭着回家。
我們最後一次去拜訪羅森大夫之後那個週末，索拉雅把這驚人的消息告訴她父母。我們坐在塔赫裏家後院的燒烤椅子上，烤着鱒魚，喝着酸奶。那是1991年3月的某個黃昏。雅米拉阿姨已經給她的薔薇和新種的金銀花澆過水，它們的芳香混雜着烤魚的味道。她已經兩次從椅子上伸出手，去撫摸索拉雅的頭髮。“只有真主最清楚。我的孩子，也許事情不是這樣的。”
索拉雅一直低頭看着她的雙手。我知道她很疲累，厭倦了這一切。“大夫說我們可以收養一個。”她低聲說。
聽到這個，塔赫裏將軍擡起頭來，給烤爐蓋上蓋子。“他真的這麼說？”
“他說那是個選擇。”索拉雅說。
在家裏我們已經就收養交換過意見，索拉雅並不想那麼做。“我知道這很蠢，也許還有些虛榮，”在去她父母家的途中，她說，“可是我止不住這個念頭。我總是夢想，我可以把孩子擁在懷裏，知道我用血水養了他九個月，我夢想有一天，我看着他的眼睛，吃驚地看到你或我的影子。我夢想那嬰兒會長大成人，笑起來像你或者像我。如果沒有……這有錯嗎？”
“沒有。”我說。
“我很自私嗎？”
“不，索拉雅。”
“因爲如果你真的想那麼做”……