Page 324 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 313

dered how much longer it would hurt to get up, sit down, roll over
in bed. I wondered when I’d be able to eat solid food. I wondered
what I’d do with the wounded little boy lying on the bed, though a
part of me already knew.
There was a carafe of water on the dresser. I poured a glass
and took two of Armand’s pain pills. The water was warm and bit-
ter. I pulled the curtains, eased myself back on the bed, and lay
down. I thought my chest would rip open. When the pain dropped
a notch and I could breathe again, I pulled the blanket to my
chest and waited for Armand’s pills to work.

When I woke up, the room was darker. The slice of sky peek-
ing between the curtains was the purple of twilight turning into
night. The sheets were soaked and my head pounded. I’d been
dreaming again, but I couldn’t remember what it had been about.
My heart gave a sick lurch when I looked to Sohrab’s bed and
found it empty. I called his name. The sound of my voice startled
me. It was disorienting, sitting in a dark hotel room, thousands of
miles from home, my body broken, calling the name of a boy I’d
only met a few days ago. I called his name again and heard noth-
ing. I struggled out of bed, checked the bathroom, looked in the
narrow hallway outside the room. He was gone.
I locked the door and hobbled to the manager’s office in the
lobby, one hand clutching the rail along the walkway for support.
There was a fake, dusty palm tree in the corner of the lobby and
flying pink flamingos on the wallpaper. I found the hotel manager
reading a newspaper behind the Formica-topped check-in
counter. I described Sohrab to him, asked if he’d seen him. He
put down his paper and took off his reading glasses. He had
greasy hair and a square-shaped little mustache speckled with