“Dostet darum.” I love you. “I love you back,” she said. I could hear the smile in her words. “And be careful.” “I will. And one more thing. Don’t tell your parents who he is. If they need to know, it should come from me.” “Okay.”We hung up. THE LAWN OUTSIDE the American embassy in Islamabad was neatly mowed, dotted with circular clusters of flowers, bordered by razor-straight hedges. The building itself was like a lot of buildings in Islamabad: flat and white. We passed through several road blocks to get there and three different security officials conducted 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 airconditioning 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.”Sohrab smiled shyly. “Thank you very much,” he said in English. It came out as “Tank you wery match.” It was the only English he knew, he’d told me, that and “Have a nice day.” She laughed. “You’re most welcome.” She walked back to her desk, high heels clicking on the floor. “Have a nice day,” Sohrab said.padding-bottom: 75%;"> “我愛你。” “我也愛你。”她說。我聽得見她話裏的笑意， “小心點。” “我會的。還有，別告訴你父母他是誰。如果他們想知道，應該讓我來說。” “好的。”我們掛上電話。 伊斯蘭堡美國大使館外面的草坪修剪齊整，點綴着一圈圈花兒，四周是挺直的籬笆。房子本身跟伊斯蘭堡很多建築很相像：白色的平房。我們穿過幾個街區，到達那兒，三個不同的安檢人員搜我的身，因爲我下巴縫着的線弄響了金屬探測器。我們最終從熱浪中走進去，空調的冷風撲面而來，好像冰水潑在臉上。接待室的祕書是個五十來歲的金髮婦女，臉龐瘦削。我自報家門，她微微一笑。她穿着米色的罩衫和黑色的休閒褲——她是我數個星期來見到的第一個沒有穿着蒙臉長袍或者棉袍的女人。她在預約單上查找我的名字，用鉛筆帶橡皮擦那頭敲着辦公桌。她找到我的名字，讓我坐下。 “你們想來杯檸檬汁嗎？”她問。 “我不要，謝謝。” “你兒子要嗎？” “什麼？” “那個英俊的小紳士，”她說，朝索拉博笑着。 “哦，好的，謝謝你。”索拉博和我坐在黑色的皮沙發上，就在接待櫃檯對面，挨着一面高高的美國國旗。索拉博從玻璃桌面的咖啡桌挑起一本雜誌。他翻閱着，心不在焉地看着圖片。 “怎麼啦？”索拉博說。 “什麼？” “你在微笑。” “我在想着你的事情呢。”我說。他露出緊張的微笑。挑起另外一本雜誌，還不到三十秒就翻完了。 “別害怕。”我碰碰他的手臂說，“這些人很友善，放鬆點。”我自己才應該聽從這個建議。我在座位上不停挪動身子，解開鞋帶，又繫上。祕書將一大杯混有冰塊的檸檬汁放在咖啡桌上。“請用。”索拉博羞澀一笑。“非常謝謝。”他用英語說，聽起來像“灰常歇歇。”他跟我說過，他只懂得這句英語，還有“祝你今天愉快”。 她笑起來：“別客氣。”她走回辦公桌，高跟鞋在地板上敲響。 “祝你今天愉快。”索拉博說。
