“What I’m asking from you is to grant an old man his dying wish,” he said gravely.He had gambled whh that comment. Played his best card. Or so I thought then. His words hung in limbo between us, but at least he’d known what to say. I was still searching for the right words, and I was the writer in the room. Finally, I settled for this: “Maybe Baba was right.” “I’m sorry you think that, Amir.”I couldn’t look at him. “And you don’t?”
“If I did, I would not have asked you to come here.”I toyed with my wedding ring. “You’ve always thought too highly of me, Rahim Khan.”“And you’ve always been far too hard on yourself.” He hesitated. “But there’s something else. Something you don’t know.”
“Please, Rahim Khan--”“Sanaubar wasn’t Ali’s first wife.”Now I looked up.“He was married once before, to a Hazara woman from the Jaghori area. This was long before you were born. They were married for three years.”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“She left him childless after three years and married a man in Khost. She bore him three daughters. That’s what I am trying to tell you.”I began to see where he was going. But I didn’t want to hear the rest of it. I had a good life in California, pretty Victorian home with a peaked roof, a good marriage, a promising writing career, in-laws who loved me. I didn’t need any of this shit.
“Ali was sterile,” Rahim Khan said.
“我所哀求的，是要你满足一个老人的临终遗愿。”他悲伤地说。他把宝押在那句话上，甩出他最好的牌。或者这仅是我的想法。他话中带着模棱两可的意思，但他至少知道说些什么。而我，这个房间里的作家，仍在寻找合适的字眼。最终，我吐出这样的句子：“也许爸爸说对了。”“你这么想让我很难过，阿米尔。”我无法看着他，“你不这样想吗？”
“如果我这么想，我就不会求你到这儿来。”我拨弄着指上的结婚戒指：“你总是太过抬举我了，拉辛汗。” “一直以来，你对自己太严苛了。”他犹疑着说，“但还有些事情，还有些你所不知道的事情。”
“拜托，拉辛汗……”“莎娜芭不是阿里的第一个妻子。”现在我抬起头。“他之前结过一次婚，跟一个雅荷里来的哈扎拉女人。那是早在你出生之前的事情。他们的婚姻持续了三年。”
“这跟什么事情有关系吗？”
“三年后，她仍没生孩子，抛弃了阿里，去科斯特跟一个男人结婚。她给他生了三个女儿。这就是我想告诉你的。”我开始明白他要说什么，但我实在不想听下去了。我在加利福尼亚有美好的生活，有座带尖顶的漂亮房子，婚姻幸福，是个前程远大的作家，岳父岳母都很爱我。我不需要这些乱七八糟的事。
“阿里是个不育的男人。”拉辛汗说。