Page 315 - The Kite Runner

304 Khaled Hosseini

across my left cheek, just under the chin, on the forehead just
below the hairline.
The old guy with the leg cast said something in Urdu. I gave
him a shrug and shook my head. He pointed to his face, patted it,
and grinned a wide, toothless grin. “Very good,” he said in En-
glish. “Inshallah.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Farid and Sohrab came in just as I put the mirror away.
Sohrab took his seat on the stool, rested his head on the bed’s
side rail.
“You know, the sooner we get you out of here the better,”
Farid said.
“Dr. Faruqi says—”
“I don’t mean the hospital. I mean Peshawar.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think you’ll be safe here for long,” Farid said. He low-
ered his voice. “The Taliban have friends here. They will start
looking for you.”
“I think they already may have,” I murmured. I thought sud-
denly of the bearded man who’d wandered into the room and just
stood there staring at me.
Farid leaned in. “As soon as you can walk, I’ll take you to
Islamabad. Not entirely safe there either, no place in Pakistan is,
but it’s better than here. At least it will buy you some time.”
“Farid jan, this can’t be safe for you either. Maybe you
shouldn’t be seen with me. You have a family to take care of.”
Farid made a waving gesture. “My boys are young, but they are
very shrewd. They know how to take care of their mothers and sis-
ters.” He smiled. “Besides, I didn’t say I’d do it for free.”
“I wouldn’t let you if you offered,” I said. I forgot I couldn’t