The Battle of the Labyrinth

down the road.
    Our dad watched him go. He kept one arm protectively around Sadie and one hand inside the workbag slung over his shoulder. Finally, when Amos disappeared around the corner, Dad relaxed. He took his hand out of the bag and smiled at Sadie. “Hello, sweetheart.”
    Sadie pushed away from him and crossed her arms. “Oh, now it’s sweetheart, is it? You’re late. Visitation Day’s nearly over! And what was that about? Who’s Amos, and what’s the Per Ankh?”
    Dad stiffened. He glanced at me like he was wondering how much we’d overheard.
    “It’s nothing,” he said, trying to sound upbeat. “I have a wonderful evening planned. Who’d like a private tour of the British Museum?”
     
    Sadie slumped in the back of the taxi between Dad and me.
    “I can’t believe it,” she grumbled. “One evening together, and you want to do research.”
    Dad tried for a smile. “Sweetheart, it’ll be fun. The curator of the Egyptian collection personally invited—”
    “Right, big surprise.” Sadie blew a strand of red-streaked hair out of her face. “Christmas Eve, and we’re going to see some moldy old relics from Egypt. Do you ever think about anything else?”
    Dad didn’t get mad. He never gets mad at Sadie. He just stared out the window at the darkening sky and the rain.
    “Yes,” he said quietly. “I do.”
    Whenever Dad got quiet like that and stared off into nowhere, I knew he was thinking about our mom. The last few months, it had been happening a lot. I’d walk into our hotel room and find him with his cell phone in his hands, Mom’s picture smiling up at him from the screen—her hair tucked under a headscarf, her blue eyes startlingly bright against the desert backdrop.
    Or we’d be at some dig site. I’d see Dad staring at the horizon, and I’d know he was remembering how he’d met her—two young scientists in the Valley of the Kings, on a dig to discover a lost tomb. Dad was an Egyptologist. Mom was an anthropologist looking for ancient DNA. He’d told me the story a thousand times.
    Our taxi snaked its way along the banks of the Thames. Just past Waterloo Bridge, my dad tensed.
    “Driver,” he said. “Stop here a moment.”
    The cabbie pulled over on the Victoria Embankment.
    “What is it, Dad?” I asked.
    He got out of the cab like he hadn’t heard me. When Sadie and I joined him on the sidewalk, he was staring up at Cleopatra’s Needle.
    In case you’ve never seen it: the Needle is an obelisk, not a needle, and it doesn’t have anything to do with Cleopatra. I guess the British just thought the name sounded cool when they brought it to London. It’s about seventy feet tall, which would’ve been really impressive back in Ancient Egypt, but on the Thames, with all the tall buildings around, it looks small and sad. You could drive right by it and not even realize you’d just passed something that was a thousand years older than the city of London.
    “God.” Sadie walked around in a frustrated circle. “Do we have to stop for every monument?”
    My dad stared at the top of the obelisk. “I had to see it again,” he murmured. “Where it happened...”
    A freezing wind blew off the river. I wanted to get back in the cab, but my dad was really starting to worry me. I’d never seen him so distracted.
    “What, Dad?” I asked. “What happened here?”
    “The last place I saw her.”
    Sadie stopped pacing. She scowled at me uncertainly, then back at Dad. “Hang on. Do you mean Mum?”
    Dad brushed Sadie’s hair behind her ear, and she was so surprised, she didn’t even push him away.
    I felt like the rain had frozen me solid. Mom’s death had always been a forbidden subject. I knew she’d died in an accident in London. I knew my grandparents blamed my dad. But no one would ever tell us the details. I’d given up asking my dad, partly because it made him so sad, partly because he absolutely refused to tell me anything. “When you’re older” was all he would say, which was the most frustrating response ever.
    “You’re telling us she died here,” I said. “At Cleopatra’s Needle? What happened?”
    He lowered his head.
    “Dad!” Sadie protested. “I go past this every day, and you mean to say—all this time—and I didn’t even know ?”
    “Do you still have your cat?” Dad asked her, which seemed like a really stupid question.
    “Of course I’ve still got the cat!” she said. “What does that have to do with anything?”
    “And your