Page 310 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 299

Farid nodded, didn’t push it. It occurred to me that somewhere
between the time we had left Peshawar for Afghanistan and now,
we had become friends. “I’ve been meaning to ask something too.”
“What?”
I didn’t want to ask. I was afraid of the answer. “Rahim Khan,”
Isaid.
“He’s gone.”
My heart skipped. “Is he—”
“No, just . . . gone.” He handed me a folded piece of paper and
a small key. “The landlord gave me this when I went looking for
him. He said Rahim Khan left the day after we did.”
“Where did he go?”
Farid shrugged. “The landlord didn’t know. He said Rahim
Khan left the letter and the key for you and took his leave.” He
checked his watch. “I’d better go. Bia, Sohrab.”
“Could you leave him here for a while?” I said. “Pick him up
later?” I turned to Sohrab. “Do you want to stay here with me for
a little while?”
He shrugged and said nothing.
“Of course,” Farid said. “I’ll pick him up just before evening
namaz.”

There were three other patients in my room. Two
older men, one with a cast on his leg, the other wheezing with
asthma, and a young man of fifteen or sixteen who’d had appendix
surgery. The old guy in the cast stared at us without blinking, his
eyes switching from me to the Hazara boy sitting on a stool. My
roommates’ families—old women in bright shalwar-kameezes,
children, men wearing skullcaps—shuffled noisily in and out of
the room. They brought with them pakoras, naan, samosas,