Page 247 - The Kite Runner

236 Khaled Hosseini

said. “Tell the rest of the world what the Taliban are doing to our
country.”
“Well, I’m not . . . I’m not quite that kind of writer.”
“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. “Salaam,” she replied in a barely
audible voice. We never made eye contact. She poured the tea
while I stood.
The woman placed the steaming cup of tea before me and
exited the room, her bare feet making no sound at all as she dis-
appeared. 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 Mex-
ico.”
“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