Page 338 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 327

a body search on me after the wires in my jaws set off the metal
detectors. When we finally stepped in from the heat, the air-
conditioning hit my face like a splash of ice water. The secretary
in the lobby, a fifty-something, lean-faced blond woman, smiled
when I gave her my name. She wore a beige blouse and black
slacks—the first woman I’d seen in weeks dressed in something
other than a burqa or a shalwar-kameez. She looked me up on the
appointment list, tapping the eraser end of her pencil on the desk.
She found my name and asked me to take a seat.
“Would you like some lemonade?” she asked.
“None for me, thanks,” I said.
“How about your son?”
“Excuse me?”
“The handsome young gentleman,” she said, smiling at
Sohrab.
“Oh. That’d be nice, thank you.”
Sohrab and I sat on the black leather sofa across the reception
desk, next to a tall American flag. Sohrab picked up a magazine
from the glass-top coffee table. He flipped the pages, not really
looking at the pictures.
“What?” Sohrab said.
“Sorry?”
“You’re smiling.”
“I was thinking about you,” I said.
He gave a nervous smile. Picked up another magazine and
flipped through it in under thirty seconds.
“Don’t be afraid,” I said, touching his arm. “These people are
friendly. Relax.” I could have used my own advice. I kept shifting
in my seat, untying and retying my shoelaces. The secretary
placed a tall glass of lemonade with ice on the coffee table. “There
you go.”