殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(58)

“I want you to stop harassing me. I want you to go away,” I snapped. I wished he would give it right back to me, break the door open and tell me off--it would have made things easier, better. But he didn’t do anything like that, and when I opened the door minutes later, he wasn’t there. I fell on my bed, buried my head under the pillow, and cried.
HASSAN MILLED ABOUT the periphery of my life after that. I made sure our paths crossed as little as possible, planned my day that way. Because when he was around, the oxygen seeped out of the room. My chest tightened and I couldn’t draw enough air; I’d stand there, gasping in my own little airless bubble of atmosphere. But even when he wasn’t around, he was. He was there in the hand-washed and ironed clothes on the cane-seat chair, in the warm slippers left outside my door, in the wood already burning in the stove when I came down for breakfast. Everywhere I turned, I saw signs of his loyalty, his goddamn unwavering loyalty.
Early that spring, a few days before the new school year started, Baba and I were planting tulips in the garden. Most of the snow had melted and the hills in the north were already dotted with patches of green grass. It was a cool, gray morning, and Baba was squatting next to me, digging the soil and planting the bulbs I handed to him. He was telling me how most people thought it was better to plant tulips in the fall and how that wasn’t true, when I came right out and said it. “Baba, have you ever thought about get ting new servants?”
He dropped the tulip bulb and buried the trowel in the dirt. Took off his gardening gloves. I’d startled him. “Chi? What did you say?”
“I was just wondering, that’s all.”
“Why would I ever want to do that?” Baba said curtly.
“You wouldn’t, I guess. It was just a question,” I said, my voice fading to a murmur. I was already sorry I’d said it.
“Is this about you and Hassan? I know there’s something going on between you two, but whatever it is, you have to deal with it, not me. I’m staying out of it.”
“I’m sorry, Baba.”
He put on his gloves again. “I grew up with Ali,” he said through clenched teeth. “My father took him in, he loved Ali like his own son. Forty years Ali’s been with my family. Forty goddamn years. And you think I’m just going to throw him out?” He turned to me now, his face as red as a tulip. “I’ve never laid a hand on you, Amir, but you ever say that again...” He looked away, shaking his head. “You bring me shame. And Hassan... Hassan’s not going anywhere, do you understand?”
I looked down and picked up a fistful of cool soil. Let it pour between my fingers.
“I said, Do you understand?” Baba roared.
I flinched. “Yes, Baba.”

“我要你別再騷擾我，我要你走開。”我不耐煩地說。我希望他會報復我，破門而入，將我臭罵一頓——這樣事情會變得容易一些，變得好一些。但他沒有那樣做，隔了幾分鐘，我打開門，他已經不在了。我倒在自己的牀上，將頭埋在枕上，眼淚直流。
自那以後，哈桑攪亂了我的生活。我每天儘可能不跟他照面，並以此安排自己的生活。因爲每當他在旁邊，房間裏的氧氣就會消耗殆盡。我的胸口會收縮，無法呼吸；我會站在那兒，被一些沒有空氣的泡泡包圍，喘息着。可就算他不在我身邊，我仍然感覺到他在，他就在那兒，在藤椅上那些他親手漿洗和熨燙的衣服上，在那雙擺在我門外的溫暖的便鞋裏面，每當我下樓吃早餐，他就在火爐裏那些熊熊燃燒的木頭上。無論我走到哪兒，都能看見他忠心耿耿的信號，他那該死的、毫不動搖的忠心。
那年早春，距開學還有幾天，爸爸和我在花園裏種鬱金香。大部分積雪已經融化，北邊的山頭開始露出一片片如茵綠草。那是個寒冷、陰沉的早晨，爸爸在我身旁，一邊說話，一邊掘開泥土，把我遞給他的球莖種下。他告訴我，有很多人都以爲秋天是種植鬱金香的最好季節，然而那是錯的。這當頭，我問了他一個問題:“爸爸，你有沒有想過請新的傭人?”
他扔下球莖，把鏟子插在泥土中，扔掉手裏的工作手套，看來我讓他大吃一驚，“什麼?你剛纔說什麼?”
“我只是想想而已，沒別的。”
“爲什麼我要那樣做?”爸爸粗聲說。
“你不會，我想。那只是一個問題而已。”我說，聲音降低了。我已經後悔自己那樣說了。
“是因爲你和哈桑嗎?我知道你們之間有問題，但不管那是什麼問題，應該處理它的人是你，不是我。我會袖手旁觀。”
“對不起，爸爸。”
他又戴上手套。“我和阿里一起長大。”他咬牙切齒地說，“我爸爸將他帶回家，他對阿里視如己出。阿里待在我家四十年了，整整四十年。而你認爲我會將他趕走?”他轉向我，臉紅得像鬱金香一樣,“我不會碰你一下，阿米爾，但你要是膽敢再說一次……”他移開眼睛，搖搖頭，“你真讓我覺得羞恥。至於哈桑……哈桑哪裏也不去。你知不知道?”
我望着地面，手裏抓起一把冷冷的泥土，任由它從我指縫間滑落。
“我說，你知不知道?”爸爸咆哮了。
我害怕了:“我知道，爸爸。”