Page 110 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 99

for our kids to play on. On Fridays, after namaz at the mosque,
everyone would get together at our house for lunch and we’d eat in
the garden, under cherry trees, drink fresh water from the well.
Then tea with candy as we watched our kids play with their
cousins . . .”
He took a long gulp of his scotch. Coughed. “You should have
seen the look on my father’s face when I told him. My mother
actually fainted. My sisters splashed her face with water. They
fanned her and looked at me as if I had slit her throat. My
brother Jalal actually went to fetch his hunting rifle before my
father stopped him.” Rahim Khan barked a bitter laughter. “It
was Homaira and me against the world. And I’ll tell you this,
Amir jan: In the end, the world always wins. That’s just the way
of things.”
“So what happened?”
“That same day, my father put Homaira and her family on a
lorry and sent them off to Hazarajat. I never saw her again.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Probably for the best, though,” Rahim Khan said, shrugging.
“She would have suffered. My family would have never accepted
her as an equal. You don’t order someone to polish your shoes one
day and call them ‘sister’ the next.” He looked at me. “You know,
you can tell me anything you want, Amir jan. Anytime.”
“I know,” I said uncertainly. He looked at me for a long time,
like he was waiting, his black bottomless eyes hinting at an unspo-
ken secret between us. For a moment, I almost did tell him.
Almost told him everything, but then what would he think of me?
He’d hate me, and rightfully.
“Here.” He handed me something. “I almost forgot. Happy
birthday.” It was a brown leather-bound notebook. I traced my fin-
gers along the gold-colored stitching on the borders. I smelled the