Page 265 - The Kite Runner

254 Khaled Hosseini

enough beds, and not enough mattresses for the beds we do
have. Worse, we don’t have enough blankets.” He showed us a lit-
tle girl skipping rope with two other kids. “You see that girl? This
past winter, the children had to share blankets. Her brother died
of exposure.” He walked on. “The last time I checked, we have
less than a month’s supply of rice left in the warehouse, and,
when that runs out, the children will have to eat bread and tea
for breakfast and dinner.” I noticed he made no mention of
lunch.
He stopped and turned to me. “There is very little shelter
here, almost no food, no clothes, no clean water. What I have in
ample supply here is children who’ve lost their childhood. But the
tragedy is that these are the lucky ones. We’re filled beyond
capacity and every day I turn away mothers who bring their chil-
dren.” He took a step toward me. “You say there is hope for
Sohrab? I pray you don’t lie, Agha. But...you may well be too
late.”
“What do you mean?”
Zaman’s eyes shifted. “Follow me.”

What passed for the director’s office was four
bare, cracked walls, a mat on the floor, a table, and two folding
chairs. As Zaman and I sat down, I saw a gray rat poke its head
from a burrow in the wall and flit across the room. I cringed when
it sniffed at my shoes, then Zaman’s, and scurried through the
open door.
“What did you mean it may be too late?” I said.
“Would you like some chai? I could make some.”
“Nay, thank you. I’d rather we talk.”