Page 248 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 237

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.
“This Hazara boy.”
“Yes.”
“What does he mean to you?”
“His father meant a lot to me. He is the man in the photo.

He’s dead now.”
Wahid blinked. “He was a friend of yours?”
My instinct was to say yes, as if, on some deep level, I too
wanted to protect Baba’s secret. But there had been enough lies
already. “He was my half-brother.” I swallowed. Added, “My ille-
gitimate half brother.” I turned the teacup. Toyed with the handle.
“I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not prying,” I said.
“What will you do with him?”
“Take him back to Peshawar. There are people there who will
take care of him.”