“Oh,” Wahid said, nodding and blushing a bit. "You know best, of course. It’s not for me to suggest... Just then, Maryam and the other woman came into the room with a pair of cups and a teapot on a small platter. I stood up in respect, pressed my hand to my chest, and bowed my head. “Salaam alaykum,” I said. The woman, who had now wrapped her hijab to conceal her lower face, bowed her head too. “Sataam,” she replied in a barely audible voice. We never made eye contact. She poured the tea while I woman placed the steaming cup of tea before me and exited the room, her bare feet making no sound at all as she disappeared. I sat down and sipped the strong black tea. Wahid finally broke the uneasy silence that followed.“So what brings you back to Afghanistan?”“What brings them all back to Afghanistan, dear brother?” Farid said, speaking to Wahid but fixing me with a contemptuous gaze.“Bas!” Wahid snapped.“It’s always the same thing,” Farid said. “Sell this land, sell that house, collect the money, and run away like a mouse. Go back to America, spend the money on a family vacation to Mexico.”“Farid!” Wahid roared. His children, and even Farid, flinched. “Have you forgotten your-manners? This is my house! Amir agha is my guest tonight and I will not allow you to dishonor me like this!”Farid opened his mouth, almost said something, reconsidered and said nothing. He slumped against the wall, muttered some thing under his breath, and crossed his mutilated foot over the good one. His accusing eyes never left me.“Forgive us, Amir agha,” Wahid said. “Since childhood, my brother’s mouth has been two steps ahead of his head.” “It’s my fault, really,” I said, trying to smile under Farid’s intense gaze. “I am not offended. I should have explained to him my business here in Afghanistan. I am not here to sell property. I’m going to Kabul to find a boy.” “A boy,” Wahid repeated. “Yes.” I fished the Polaroid from the pocket of my shirt. Seeing Hassan’s picture again tore the fresh scab off his death. I had to turn my eyes away from it. I handed it to Wahid. He studied the photo. Looked from me to the photo and back again. “This boy?” I nodded. “哦，”瓦希德說，點點頭，有點臉紅，“你知道得最清楚，當然。我不該建議你……” 就在那時，瑪麗亞和另一個婦女走進來，端着一個小盤子，上面有茶壺和兩個茶杯。我畢恭畢敬地站起來，雙手交叉放在胸前，彎身鞠躬。 “你好。”我說。 那婦女放下面紗，遮住下半邊臉，也鞠躬。 “你好。”她的聲音細不可聞。我們不看對方的眼睛。她倒茶水的時候我站立着。那婦人將熱氣騰騰的茶杯放在我面前，退出房間。離開的時候，她赤裸的雙腳沒有發出任何聲音。我坐下，喝起那杯濃濃的紅茶。瓦希德終於打破那之後令人不安的沉默。“是什麼讓你回到阿富汗呢？”是什麼讓他們這些人回到阿富汗呢，親愛的哥哥？”法裏德說，他在跟瓦希德說話，鄙夷的眼光卻一直看着我。 “住口！”瓦希德怒道。 “總是同樣的事情。”法裏德說，“賣掉土地，賣掉房子，收錢，像老鼠那樣跑開。回到美國去，用那筆錢帶上家人去墨西哥度假。” “法裏德！”瓦希德咆哮。他的孩子，甚至還有法裏德都害怕起來。“你的禮貌哪裏去了？這是我的房子！阿米爾老爺今晚是我的客人，我不容許你這樣給我丟臉！”法裏德張開口，幾乎就要說出些什麼，想了想又沒說出來。他頹然倚着牆，無聲說着些什麼，將那隻殘廢的腳放在完好的腳上面，鄙薄的眼光一直盯着我。“原諒我們，阿米爾老爺。”瓦希德說，“打小時候起，我弟弟的嘴巴就比腦袋快兩步。” “那是我的錯，真的。”我說，試圖在法裏德的逼視之下露出笑臉。“我沒覺得被冒犯了。我應該把我到阿富汗來的任務跟他說。我不是來賣田產的，我要去喀布爾找個小男孩。” “小男孩？”瓦希德重複說。 “是的。”我從襯衣的口袋掏出寶麗萊照片。再次看到哈桑的照片，再次讓我的心因爲他的死揪痛起來。我不得不將眼光移開，把它遞給瓦希德。他端詳着那張照片，擡眼望望我，又看回去。“這個男孩？” 我點點頭。
