Page 313 - The Kite Runner

302 Khaled Hosseini

ing. I loved him because he was my friend, but also
because he was a good man, maybe even a great man. And
this is what I want you to understand, that good, real good,
was born out of your father’s remorse. Sometimes, I think
everything he did, feeding the poor on the streets, building
the orphanage, giving money to friends in need, it was all
his way of redeeming himself. And that, I believe, is what
true redemption is, Amir jan, when guilt leads to good.
I know that in the end, God will forgive. He will forgive
your father, me, and you too. I hope you can do the same.
Forgive your father if you can. Forgive me if you wish. But,
most important, forgive yourself.
I have left you some money, most of what I have left, in
fact. I think you may have some expenses when you return
here, and the money should be enough to cover them.
There is a bank in Peshawar; Farid knows the location. The
money is in a safe-deposit box. I have given you the key.
As for me, it is time to go. I have little time left and I
wish to spend it alone. Please do not look for me. That is
my final request of you.
I leave you in the hands of God.
Your friend always,
Rahim

I dragged the hospital gown sleeve across my eyes. I folded the
letter and put it under my mattress.
Amir, the socially legitimate half, the half that represented the
riches he had inherited and the sin-with-impunity privileges that
came with them. Maybe that was why Baba and I had been on
such better terms in the U.S., I wondered. Selling junk for petty
cash, our menial jobs, our grimy apartment—the American ver-