Page 305 - The Kite Runner

294 Khaled Hosseini

with the gel in his hair and the Clark Gable mustache, the one
with the Africa stain on his cap. Mister Soap Opera Star. That’s
funny. I want to laugh now. But laughing hurts too.
I fade out.

She says her name is Aisha, “like the prophet’s wife.”
Her graying hair is parted in the middle and tied in a ponytail, her
nose pierced with a stud shaped like the sun. She wears bifocals
that make her eyes bug out. She wears green too and her hands
are soft. She sees me looking at her and smiles. Says something in
English. Something is jabbing at the side of my chest.
I fade out.

A man is standing at my bedside. I know him. He is dark
and lanky, has a long beard. He wears a hat—what are those hats
called? Pakols? Wears it tilted to one side like a famous person
whose name escapes me now. I know this man. He drove me
somewhere a few years ago. I know him. There is something
wrong with my mouth. I hear a bubbling sound.
I fade out.

My right arm burns. The woman with the bifocals and
sun-shaped stud is hunched over my arm, attaching a clear plastic
tubing to it. She says it’s “the Potassium.” “It stings like a bee,
no?” she says. It does. What’s her name? Something to do with a
prophet. I know her too from a few years ago. She used to wear
her hair in a ponytail. Now it’s pulled back, tied in a bun. Soraya