I ran because I was a coward. I was afraid of Assef and what he would do to me. I was afraid of getting hurt. That’s what I told myself as I turned my back to the alley¹, to Hassan. That’s what I made myself believe. I actually aspired² to cowardice³, because the alternative, the real reason I was running, was that Assef was right: Nothing was free in this world. Maybe Hassan was the price I had to pay, the lamb I had to slay⁴, to win Baba. Was it a fair price? The answer floated to my conscious mind before I could thwart⁵ it: He was just a Hazara, wasn’t he? 我逃跑，因为我是懦夫。我害怕阿塞夫，害怕他折磨我。我害怕受到伤害。我转身离开小巷、离开哈桑的时候，心里这样对自己说。我试图让自己这么认为。说真的，我宁愿相信自己是出于软弱，因为另外的答案，我逃跑的真正原因，是觉得阿塞夫说得对：这个世界没有什么是免费的。为了赢回爸爸，也许哈桑只是必须付出的代价，是我必须宰割的羔羊。这是个公平的代价吗?我还来不及抑止，答案就从意识中冒出来：他只是个哈扎拉人，不是吗?

I ran back the way I’d come. Ran back to the all but deserted⁶ bazaar⁷. I lurched to a cubicle⁸ and leaned against the padlocked swinging doors. I stood there panting, sweating, wishing things had turned out some other way. 我沿着来路跑回去，回到那个空无一人的市场。我跌撞上一家小店铺，斜倚着那紧闭的推门。我站在那儿，气喘吁吁，汗水直流，希望事情并没有变成这个样子。

About fifteen minutes later, I heard voices and running footfalls. I crouched⁹ behind the cubicle and watched Assef and the other two sprinting¹⁰ by, laughing as they hurried down the deserted lane. I forced myself to wait ten more minutes. Then I walked back to the rutted track that ran along the snow-filled ravine. I squinted¹¹ in the dimming light and spotted¹² Hassan walking slowly toward me. I met him by a leafless birch tree on the edge of the ravine. 约莫隔了十五分钟，我听到人声，还有脚步声。我躲在那家小店，望着阿塞夫和那两个人走过，笑声飘过空荡荡的过道。我强迫自己再等十分钟。然后我走回到那条和冰封的小溪平行、满是车痕的小巷。我在昏暗的光芒中眯起眼睛，看见哈桑慢慢朝我走来。在河边一棵光秃秃的桦树下，我和他相遇。

He had the blue kite in his hands; that was the first thing I saw. And I can’t lie now and say my eyes didn’t scan it for any rips. His chapan had mud smudges down the front and his shirt was ripped just below the collar. He stopped. Swayed on his feet like he was going to collapse¹³. Then he steadied himself. Handed me the kite. 他手里拿着那只蓝风筝，那是我第一眼看到的东西。时至今日，我无法扯谎说自己当时没有查看风筝是否有什么裂痕。他的长袍前方沾满泥土，衬衣领子下面开裂。他站着，双腿摇摇晃晃，似乎随时都会倒下。接着他站稳了，把风筝递给我。

“Where were you? I looked for you,” I said. Speaking those words was like chewing on a rock. “你到哪里去了?我在找你。”我艰难地说，仿佛在吞嚼一块石头。

Hassan dragged a sleeve across his face, wiped snot and tears. I waited for him to say something, but we just stood there in silence, in the fading light. I was grateful for the early-evening shadows that fell on Hassan’s face and concealed¹⁴ mine. I was glad I didn’t have to return his gaze. Did he know I knew? And if he knew, then what would I see if I did look in his eyes? Blame? Indignation? Or, God forbid, what I feared most: guileless devotion? That, most of all, I couldn’t bear to see. 哈桑伸手用衣袖擦擦脸，抹去眼泪和鼻涕。我等待他开口，但我们只是静静地站在那儿，在消逝的天光中。我很感谢夜幕降临，遮住了哈桑的脸，也掩盖了我的面庞。我很高兴我不用看着他的眼睛。他知道我知道吗?如果他知道，我能从他眼里看到什么呢?埋怨?耻辱?或者，愿真主制止，我最怕看到的：真诚的奉献。所有这些里，那是我最不愿看到的。

He began to say something and his voice cracked. He closed his mouth, opened it, and closed it again. Took a step back. Wiped his face. And that was as close as Hassan and I ever came to discussing what had happened in the alley. I thought he might burst into tears, but, to my relief, he didn’t, and I pretended I hadn’t heard the crack in his voice. Just like I pretended I hadn’t seen the dark stain in the seat of his pants. Or those tiny drops that fell from between his legs and stained the snow black. 他开始说些什么，但他有点哽咽。他闭上嘴巴，张开，又闭上，往后退了一步，擦擦他的脸。就在当时，我几乎就要和哈桑谈论起在小巷里头发生的事情来。我原以为他会痛哭流涕，但，谢天谢地，他没有，而我假装没有听到他喉咙的哽咽。就像我假装没有看到他裤子后面深色的污渍一样。也假装没有看到从他双腿之间滴下的血滴，它们滴下来，将雪地染成黑色。

“Agha sahib will worry,” was all he said. He turned from me and limped away. “老爷会担心的。”他就说了这么一句。他转过头，蹒跚着走开。

IT HAPPENED JUST THE WAY I’d imagined. I opened the door to the smoky study and stepped in. Baba and Rahim Khan were drinking tea and listening to the news crackling on the radio. Their heads turned. Then a smile played on my father’s lips. He opened his arms. I put the kite down and walked into his thick hairy arms. I buried my face in the warmth of his chest and wept. Baba held me close to him, rocking me back and forth¹⁵. In his arms, I forgot what I’d done. And that was good. 事情就如我想像的那样。我打开门，走进那烟雾缭绕的书房。爸爸和拉辛汗在喝茶，听着收音机传出的劈里啪啦的新闻。他们转过头，接着爸爸嘴角亮起一丝笑容，他张开双手，我把脸埋在他温暖的胸膛上，哭起来。爸爸紧紧抱着我，不断抚摸着我的后背。在他怀里，我忘了自己的所作所为。那感觉真好。