殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(95)

When we arrived at the Taheris’ home the next evening--for lafz, the ceremony of “giving word”--I had to park the Ford across the street. Their driveway was already jammed with cars. I wore a navy blue suit I had bought the previous day, after I had brought Baba home from _khastegari_. I checked my tie in the rearview mirror.
“You look khoshteep,” Baba said. Handsome.
“Thank you, Baba. Are you all right? Do you feel up to this?”
“Up to this? It’s the happiest day of my life, Amir,” he said, smiling tiredly.
The living room was packed with about two dozen guests seated on chairs placed along the walls. When Baba entered, everybody stood up. We went around the room, Baba leading slowly, me behind him, shaking hands and greeting the guests. The general--still in his gray suit--and Baba embraced, gently tapping each other on the back. They said their Salaams in respectful hushed tones.
The general held me at arm’s length and smiled knowingly, as if saying, “Now, this is the right way--the Afghan way--to do it, _bachem_.” We kissed three times on the cheek.
We sat in the crowded room, Baba and I next to each other, across from the general and his wife. Baba’s breathing had grown a little ragged, and he kept wiping sweat off his forehead and scalp with his handkerchief. He saw me looking at him and managed a strained grin. I’m all right,” he mouthed.
In keeping with tradition, Soraya was not present.
A few moments of small talk and idle chatter followed until the general cleared his throat. The room became quiet and everyone looked down at their hands in respect. The general nodded toward Baba.
Baba cleared his own throat. When he began, he couldn’t speak in complete sentences without stopping to breathe. “General Sahib, Khanum Jamila jan... it’s with great humility that my son and I... have come to your home today. You are... honorable people... from distinguished and reputable families and... proud lineage. I come with nothing but the utmost ihtiram... and the highest regards for you, your family names, and the memory... of your ancestors.” He stopped. Caught his breath. Wiped his brow. “Amirjan is my only son... my only child, and he has been a good son to me. I hope he proves... worthy of your kindness. I ask that you honor Amir jan and me... and accept my son into your family.”
The general nodded politely.

隔日早晨，我們到塔赫裏家裏，完成“定聘”的儀式，我不得不把福特停在馬路對面。他們的車道擠滿了轎車。我穿着海軍藍西裝，昨天我把前來提親的爸爸接回家之後，去買了這身衣服。我對着觀後鏡擺了擺領帶。?
“你看上去很帥。”爸爸說。
“謝謝你，爸爸。你還好嗎？你覺得撐得住嗎？”
“撐得住？今天是我有生以來最高興的一天，阿米爾。”他說，露出疲累的微笑。
客廳約莫有二十來個客人，坐在靠牆邊的椅子上。爸爸走進去時，全部人起立。我們繞屋走着，爸爸慢慢領路，我跟在後邊，和各位賓客握手問好。將軍仍穿着他的灰色西裝，跟爸爸擁抱，彼此輕拍對方的後背。他們用嚴肅的語氣，相互說“你好 ”。
將軍抱住我，心照不宣地微笑着，彷彿在說：“喏，這就對了，按照阿富汗人的方式，我的孩子。”我們互相親吻了三次臉頰。
我們坐在擁擠的房間裏，爸爸和我一邊，對面是塔赫裏將軍和他的太太。爸爸的呼吸變得有點艱難，不斷擦去額頭上的汗水，掏出他的手帕咳嗽。他看見我在望着他，擠出勉強的笑容。
“我還好。”他低聲說。
遵從傳統風習，索拉雅沒出場。大家談了幾句，就隨意閒聊起來，隨後將軍假咳了幾聲。
房間變得安靜，每個人都低頭看着自己的手，以示尊重。將軍朝爸爸點點頭。爸爸清清喉嚨。他開口說話，然而總要停下來喘氣，才能把話說完整。“將軍大人，親愛的雅米拉……今天，我和我的兒子懷着敬意……到你家來。你們是……有頭有面的人……出身名門望族……血統尊榮。我今天帶來的，沒有別的，只有無上的崇敬……獻給你，你的家族，還有……對你先人的緬懷。”他歇了一會兒，等呼吸平息，擦擦額頭。“親愛的阿米爾是我惟一的兒子……惟一的兒子，他一直是我的好兒子。我希望他……不負你的慈愛。我請求你賜親愛的阿米爾和我以榮幸……接納我們成爲你的親人。 ”
將軍禮貌地點點頭。