Usually, each neighborhood held its own competition. But that year, the tournament was going to be held in my neighborhood, Wazir Akbar Khan, and several other districts 8211;Karteh-Char, Karteh-Parwan, Mekro-Rayan, and Koteh-Sangi 8211;had been invited. You could hardly go anywhere without hearing talk of the upcoming tournament. Word had it this was going to be the biggest tournament in twenty-five years.
通常，每个街区都会举办自己的比赛。但那年，巡回赛由我所在的街区，瓦兹尔·阿克巴·汗区举办，几个其他的城区 8211;卡德察区、卡德帕湾区、梅寇拉扬区、科德桑吉区 8211;也应邀参加。无论走到哪里，都能听见人们在谈论即将举办的巡回赛，据说这是二十五年来规模最大的风筝比赛。
One night that winter, with the big contest only four days away, Baba and I sat in his study in overstuffed leather chairs by the glow of the fireplace. We were sipping tea, talking. Ali had served dinner earlier 8211;potatoes and curried cauliflower over rice 8211;and had retired for the night with Hassan. Baba was fattening his pipe and I was asking him to tell the story about the winter a pack of wolves had descended from the mountains in Herat and forced everyone to stay indoors for a week, when he lit a match and said, casually, 8220;I think maybe you 8217;ll win the tournament this year. What do you think? 8221;
那年冬天的一个夜里，距比赛还有四天，爸爸和我坐在书房里铺满毛皮的椅子上，烤着火，边喝茶边交谈。早些时候，阿里服侍我们用过晚餐 8211;土豆、咖喱西兰花拌饭，回去跟哈桑度过漫漫长夜。爸爸塞着他的烟管，我求他讲那个故事给我听，据说某年冬天，有一群狼从山上下来，游荡到赫拉特，迫使人们在屋里躲了一个星期。爸爸划了一根火柴，说: 8221;我觉得今年你也许能赢得巡回赛，你觉得呢? 8221;
I didn 8217;t know what to think. Or what to say. Was that what it would take? Had he just slipped me a key? I was a good kite fighter. Actually, a very good one. A few times, I 8217;d even come close to winning the winter tournament 8211;once, I 8217;d made it to the final three. But coming close wasn 8217;t the same as winning, was it? Baba hadn 8217;t 8220;come close 8221;. He had won because winners won and everyone else just went Home. Baba was used to winning, winning at everything he set his mind to. Didn 8217;t he have a right to expect the same from his son? And just imagine. If I did win 8230;
我不知道该怎么想，或者该怎么说。我要是取胜了会怎么样呢?他只是交给我一把钥匙吗?我是斗风筝的好手，实际上，是非常出色的好手。好几次我差点赢得冬季巡回赛 8211;有一次，我还进了前三名。但差点儿和赢得比赛是两回事，不是吗?爸爸从来不差点儿，他只是获胜，获胜者赢得比赛，其他人只能回家。爸爸总是胜利，赢得一切他想赢得的东西。难道他没有权利要求他的儿子也这样吗?想想吧，要是我赢得比赛……
Baba smoked his pipe and talked. I pretended to listen. But I couldn 8217;t listen, not really, because Baba 8217;s casual little comment had planted a seed in my head: the resolution that I would win that winter 8217;s tournament. I was going to win. There was no other viable option. I was going to win, and I was going to run that last kite. Then I 8217;d bring it Home and show it to Baba. Show him once and for all that his son was worthy. Then maybe my life as a ghost in this house would finally be over. I let myself dream: I imagined conversation and laughter over dinner instead of silence broken only by the clinking of silverware and the occasional grunt. I envisioned us taking a Friday drive in Baba 8217;s car to Paghman, stopping on the way at Ghargha Lake for some fried trout and potatoes. We 8217;d go to the zoo to see Marjan the lion, and maybe Baba wouldn 8217;t yawn and steal looks at his wristwatch all the time. Maybe Baba would even read one of my stories. I 8217;d write him a hundred if I thought he 8217;d read one. Maybe he 8217;d call me Amir jan like Rahim Khan did. And maybe, just maybe, I would finally be pardoned for killing my mother.
爸爸吸着烟管，跟我说话。我假装在听，但我听不进去，有点心不在焉，因为爸爸随口一说，在我脑海埋下了一颗种子：赢得冬季巡回赛是个好办法。我要赢得比赛，没有其他选择。我要赢得比赛，我的风筝要坚持到最后。然后我会把它带回家，带给爸爸看。让他看看，他的儿子终究非同凡响，那么也许我在家里孤魂野鬼般的日子就可以结束。我让自己幻想着：我幻想吃晚饭的时候，充满欢声笑语，而非一言不发，只有银餐具偶尔的碰撞声和几声 8221;嗯哦 8221;打破寂静。我想像星期五爸爸开着车带我去帕格曼，中途在喀尔卡湖稍作休憩，吃着炸鳟鱼和炸土豆。我们会去动物园看看那只叫 8221;玛扬 8221;的狮子，也许爸爸不会一直打哈欠，偷偷看着他的腕表。也许爸爸甚至还会看看我写的故事，我情愿为他写一百篇，哪怕他只挑一篇看看。也许他会像拉辛汗那样，叫我 8221;亲爱的阿米尔 8221;。也许，只是也许，他最终会原谅我杀了他的妻子。
Baba was telling me about the time he 8217;d cut fourteen kites on the same day. I smiled, nodded, laughed at all the right places, but I hardly heard a word he said. I had a mission now. And I wasn 8217;t going to fail Baba. Not this time.
爸爸告诉我有一天他割断了十四只风筝的线。我不时微笑，点头，大笑，一切恰到好处，但我几乎没有听清他在说什么。现在我有个使命了，我不会让爸爸失望。这次不会。