Page 289 - The Kite Runner

278 Khaled Hosseini

“How is that whore these days?”
I had a sudden urge to urinate. I prayed it would pass. “I’m
looking for a boy.”
“Isn’t everyone?” he said. The men with the Kalashnikovs
laughed. Their teeth were stained green with naswar.
“I understand he is here, with you,” I said. “His name is
Sohrab.”
“I’ll ask you something: What are you doing with that whore?
Why aren’t you here, with your Muslim brothers, serving your
country?”
“I’ve been away a long time,” was all I could think of saying.
My head felt so hot. I pressed my knees together, held my bladder.
The Talib turned to the two men standing by the door. “That’s
an answer?” he asked them.
“Nay, Agha sahib,” they said in unison, smiling.
He turned his eyes to me. Shrugged. “Not an answer, they
say.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “There are those in my circle
who believe that abandoning watan when it needs you the most is
the same as treason. I could have you arrested for treason, have
you shot for it even. Does that frighten you?”
“I’m only here for the boy.”
“Does that frighten you?”
“Yes.”
“It should,” he said. He leaned back in the sofa. Crushed the
cigarette.
I thought about Soraya. It calmed me. I thought of her sickle-
shaped birthmark, the elegant curve of her neck, her luminous
eyes. I thought of our wedding night, gazing at each other’s reflec-
tion in the mirror under the green veil, and how her cheeks
blushed when I whispered that I loved her. I remembered the two