Page 297 - The Kite Runner

286 Khaled Hosseini

table’s legs, crossing through the ring of brass balls, were now
pointing to the ceiling.
“Take him, then,” Assef said. I helped Sohrab to his feet, swat-
ted the bits of crushed grape that had stuck to his pants like bar-
nacles to a pier.
“Go, take him,” Assef said, pointing to the door.
I took Sohrab’s hand. It was small, the skin dry and calloused.
His fingers moved, laced themselves with mine. I saw Sohrab in
that Polaroid again, the way his arm was wrapped around Has-
san’s leg, his head resting against his father’s hip. They’d both
been smiling. The bells jingled as we crossed the room.
We made it as far as the door.
“Of course,” Assef said behind us, “I didn’t say you could take
him for free.”
I turned. “What do you want?”
“You have to earn him.”
“What do you want?”
“We have some unfinished business, you and I,” Assef said.
“You remember, don’t you?”
He needn’t have worried. I would never forget the day after
Daoud Khan overthrew the king. My entire adult life, whenever I
heard Daoud Khan’s name, what I saw was Hassan with his sling-
shot pointed at Assef’s face, Hassan saying that they’d have to
start calling him One-Eyed Assef instead of Assef Goshkhor. I
remember how envious I’d been of Hassan’s bravery. Assef had
backed down, promised that in the end he’d get us both. He’d
kept that promise with Hassan. Now it was my turn.
“All right,” I said, not knowing what else there was to say. I
wasn’t about to beg; that would have only sweetened the moment
for him.
Assef called the guards back into the room. “I want you to lis-