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‘Wow.’
The guard was leaving. They were alone.
‘These pillars are incredible.’ She moved to one, running her hands over the carefully carved shapes. ‘They must have been made by talented craftsmen.’
His expression was rueful. ‘They were carved by prisoners. I used to come here a lot, as a child.’ His features grew serious and, without any elaboration, she understood what he was alluding to.
‘After your mother died?’
Surprise flashed in the depths of his dark eyes. ‘Yes.’
She nodded slowly. ‘Losing a parent at seven must have been incredibly difficult. Were you and she close?’
His jaw clenched, and he stared out from the tower, his body rigid, as though he weren’t going to speak.
‘She was my mother.’
Daisy considered this. ‘That’s not an answer.’
His gaze pivoted to hers. ‘Isn’t it?’
She traced her finger over a line in the marble, following the swirling texture contemplatively. ‘I loved my mother, but we weren’t close. That didn’t stop it from hurting like anything when she died. I think a relationship with your parents can be complex.’
‘Why were you not close?’
She was conscious that he was moving their conversation to her, and perhaps it was a technique for deflection, a way of moving the spotlight off him. She allowed that, with every intention of returning to her question in a moment.
‘My mother was bipolar.’ It was amazing how easy she found that coming from her lips, when for years she’d grappled with discussing the truth of her home life. ‘When she was in a manic phase, she was the most incredible fun.’ Daisy shook her head, her brow furrowed as she looked up at the stars across the night sky. The view from here showcased the incredible silver of the desert sands, filling her with a desire to lift her wings and fly across its wide expanse.
‘But there were times when that wasn’t the case?’
‘Oh, yes. Many times. As a child, I didn’t understand it. I mean, one day she’d be pulling me out of school so we could go to the movies, or feeding me ice cream for breakfast, and then the next she wouldn’t get out of bed.’ She shook her head. ‘Our house was either scrubbed to within an inch of its life, the smell of bleach on every surface, or completely abandoned. Milk cartons left out, dishes not washed, floors filthy.’
Sariq didn’t say anything, but she felt the purpose for his silence. He was drawing her out, letting her keep talking, and despite the fact she generally kept her past to herself, she found the words tumbling from her now.
‘There were times—when she stayed on her medication—when things were okay. But not really, because the medication just seemed to hollow her out. I don’t think she really persisted in finding a good doctor and getting the right prescription. She hated the feeling of being “stable”. Without the lows, she couldn’t have the highs.’
‘And your father?’ Sariq prompted after a moment.
Daisy felt her throat thickening, as it often did when she thought of that time in her life. ‘Dad couldn’t deal with it. He tried to get Mom help but she was beyond that. He left home when I was ten.’
‘Without you?’
‘He wanted to take me. I refused. I knew my mom wouldn’t cope.’ She frowned. ‘I was so angry with him, Sariq. To leave her just because she was sick? He failed her, and he failed me.’
‘He did.’ The words held a scathing indictment that was somehow buoying.
‘Towards the end, Mom’s manic phases grew fewer, her depression deeper. She began to self-medicate. Marijuana at first, then alcohol. Lots of alcohol.’ Daisy closed her eyes, trying to blot out the pain. ‘She was drunk when she crashed her car. Thankfully without hurting anyone else.’
He was quiet beside her but she felt his closeness and his strength and both were the balms to a soul that would always carry heavy wounds of her past. Silence sat between them, but it was a pleasant silence, wrapping around her, filling her with warmth. She blinked up at him and even though their eyes locked, she didn’t look away.
He was staring at her and she felt something pass from him to her. There was magic in this tower, a great, appreciable force that weaved between them.
‘When my mother died...’ he spoke, finally ‘...my father sent me away. Partly for my own protection, but mainly, because I reminded him of her. He couldn’t bear to spend time with me.’
She frowned. ‘I thought...’
‘Yes?’ He prompted, when her voice trailed off into nothing.
