Page 342 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 331

don’t have an American embassy in Kabul. That makes things
extremely complicated. Just about impossible.”
“What are you saying, that I should throw him back on the
streets?” I said.
“I didn’t say that.”
“He was sexually abused,” I said, thinking of the bells around
Sohrab’s ankles, the mascara on his eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Andrews’s mouth said. The way he
was looking at me, though, we might as well have been talking
about the weather. “But that is not going to make the INS issue
this young fellow a visa.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you want to help, send money to a reputable
relief organization. Volunteer at a refugee camp. But at this point
in time, we strongly discourage U.S. citizens from attempting to
adopt Afghan children.”
I got up. “Come on, Sohrab,” I said in Farsi. Sohrab slid next
to me, rested his head on my hip. I remembered the Polaroid of
him and Hassan standing that same way. “Can I ask you some-
thing, Mr. Andrews?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have children?”
For the first time, he blinked.
“Well, do you? It’s a simple question.”
He was silent.
“I thought so,” I said, taking Sohrab’s hand. “They ought to put
someone in your chair who knows what it’s like to want a child.” I
turned to go, Sohrab trailing me.
“Can I ask you a question?” Andrews called.
“Go ahead.”
“Have you promised this child you’ll take him with you?”