the kite runner-第115节

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r　opened　a　music　store　there　in　the　late　sixties。　Free　love；　headbands；　tiedyed　shirts；　you　name　it。　　He　leaned　forward。　　I　was　at　Woodstock。　
　Groovy；　　I　said；　and　Faisal　laughed　so　hard　he　started　sweating　all　over　again。　　Anyway；　　I　continued；　　what　I　told　Mr。　Andrews　was　pretty　much　it；　save　for　a　thing　or　two。　Or　maybe　three。　I　ll　give　you　the　uncensored　version。　
He　licked　a　finger　and　flipped　to　a　blank　page；　uncapped　his　pen。　　I　d　appreciate　that；　Amir。　And　why　don　t　we　just　keep　it　in　English　from　here　on　out？　
　Fine。　
I　told　him　everything　that　had　happened。　Told　him　about　my　meeting　with　Rahim　Khan；　the　trek　to　Kabul；　the　orphanage；　the　stoning　at　Ghazi　Stadium。
　God；　　he　whispered。　　I　m　sorry；　I　have　such　fond　memories　of　Kabul。　Hard　to　believe　it　s　the　same　place　you　re　telling　me　about。　
　Have　you　been　there　lately？　
　God　no。　
　It　s　not　Berkeley；　I　ll　tell　you　that；　　I　said。
　Go　on。　
I　told　him　the　rest；　the　meeting　with　Assef；　the　fight；　Sohrab　and　his　slingshot；　our　escape　back　to　Pakistan。　When　I　was　done；　he　scribbled　a　few　notes；　breathed　in　deeply；　and　gave　me　a　sober　look。　　Well；　Amir；　you　ve　got　a　tough　battle　ahead　of　you。　
　One　I　can　win？　
He　capped　his　pen。　　At　the　risk　of　sounding　like　Raymond　Andrews；　it　s　not　likely。　Not　impossible；　but　hardly　likely。　　Gone　was　the　affable　smile；　the　playful　look　in　his　eyes。
　But　it　s　kids　like　Sohrab　who　need　a　home　the　most；　　I　said。　　These　rules　and　regulations　don　t　make　any　sense　to　me。　
　You　re　preaching　to　the　choir；　Amir；　　he　said。　　But　the　fact　is；　take　current　immigration　laws；　adoption　agency　policies；　and　the　political　situation　in　Afghanistan；　and　the　deck　is　stacked　against　you。　
　I　don　t　get　it；　　I　said。　I　wanted　to　hit　something。　　I　mean；　I　get　it　but　I　don　t　get　it。　
Omar　nodded；　his　brow　furrowed。　　Well；　it　s　like　this。　In　the　aftermath　of　a　disaster；　whether　it　be　natural　or　man…made……and　the　Taliban　are　a　disaster；　Amir；　believe　me……it　s　always　difficult　to　ascertain　that　a　child　is　an　orphan。　Kids　get　displaced　in　refugee　camps；　or　parents　just　abandon　them　because　they　can　t　take　care　of　them。　Happens　all　the　time。　So　the　INS　won　t　grant　a　visa　unless　it　s　clear　the　child　meets　the　definition　of　an　eligible　orphan。　I　m　sorry；　I　know　it　sounds　ridiculous；　but　you　need　death　certificates。　
　You　ve　been　to　Afghanistan；　　I　said。　　You　know　how　improbable　that　is。　
　I　know；　　he　said。　　But　let　s　suppose　it　s　clear　that　the　child　has　no　surviving　parent。　Even　then；　the　INS　thinks　it　s　good　adoption　practice　to　place　the　child　with　someone　in　his　own　country　so　his　heritage　can　be　preserved。　
　What　heritage？　　I　said。　　The　Taliban　have　destroyed　what　heritage　Afghans　had。　You　saw　what　they　did　to　the　giant　Buddhas　in　Bamiyan。　
　I　m　sorry；　I　m　telling　you　how　the　INS　works；　Amir；　　Omar　said；　touching　my　arm。　He　glanced　at　Sohrab　and　smiled。　Turned　back　to　me。　　Now；　a　child　has　to　be　legally　adopted　according　to　the　laws　and　regulations　of　his　own　country。　But　when　you　have　a　country　in　turmoil；　say　a　country　like　Afghanistan；　government　offices　are　busy　with　emergencies；　and　processing　adoptions　won　t　be　a　top　priority。　
I　sighed　and　rubbed　my　eyes。　A　pounding　headache　was　settling　in　just　behind　them。
　But　let　s　suppose　that　somehow　Afghanistan　gets　its　act　together；　　Omar　said；　crossing　his　arms　on　his　protruding　belly。　　It　still　may　not　permit　this　adoption。　In　fact；　even　the　more　moderate　Muslim　nations　are　hesitant　with　adoptions　because　in　many　of　those　countries；　Islamic　law；　Shari　a；　doesn　t　recognize　adoption。　
　You　re　telling　me　to　give　it　up？　　I　asked；　pressing　my　palm　to　my　forehead。
　I　grew　up　in　the　U。S。；　Amir。　If　America　taught　me　anything；　it　s　that　quitting　is　right　up　there　with　pissing　in　the　Girl　Scouts　　lemonade　jar。　But；　as　your　lawyer；　I　have　to　give　you　the　facts；　　he　said。　　Finally；　adoption　agencies　routinely　send　staff　members　to　evaluate　the　child　s　milieu；　and　no　reasonable　agency　is　going　to　send　an　agent　to　Afghanistan。　
I　looked　at　Sohrab　sitting　on　the　bed；　watching　TV；　watching　us。　He　was　sitting　the　way　his　father　used　to；　chin　resting　on　one　knee。
　I　m　his　half　uncle；　does　that　count　for　anything？　
　It　does　if　you　can　prove　it。　I　m　sorry；　do　you　have　any　papers　or　anyone　who　can　support　you？　
　No　papers；　　I　said；　in　a　tired　voice。　　No　one　knew　about　it。　Sohrab　didn　t　know　until　I　told　him；　and　I　myself　didn　t　find　out　until　recently。　The　only　other　person　who　knows　is　gone；　maybe　dead。　
　What　are　my　options；　Omar？　
　I　ll　be　frank。　You　don　t　have　a　lot　of　them。　
　Well；　Jesus；　what　can　I　do？　
Omar　breathed　in；　tapped　his　chin　with　the