Spotlight
“What I feel has no name…”
Suanne Laqueur's award-winning debut novel The Man I Love thrilled readers with its memorable characters and depth of emotion. Erik Fiskare's journey of love, recovery and forgiveness captivated hearts but also left questions unanswered. Now Daisy Bianco has a chance to tell her story.
It's been three years since a single lapse of judgment cost Daisy the love of her life. Erik was a conduit to her soul but now he's chosen a path of total disconnection, refusing to speak to her or acknowledge her betrayal. Alone and shattered, Daisy attempts to take responsibility for her actions while building her career as a professional dancer in New York City. But Erik's unforgiving estrangement proves too much for her strength. Plagued by flashbacks to the Lancaster shootings, she falls into a dangerous spiral of self-harm, cutting into her own skin as a means to atone. Only the timely appearance of an old friend, John "Opie" Quillis, saves her from self-destruction and gives her a chance to love again.
Laqueur skillfully weaves flashbacks to the college years with Daisy's present life. Supported by John's patient affection, she works to separate her evolution as an adult from the unresolved guilt and grief of her youth. As her professional accomplishments lift her out of depression, Daisy learns to hold onto her accountability without letting it become her identity. Years pass and she builds a beautiful life filled with dance and friends. Lovers come and eventually go, leaving her on her own with the old thought: Come back to me.
In this parallel narrative, Laqueur peels open the beloved characters from The Man I Love to reveal new and complex layers of vulnerability. The scars from the shooting are deep and pervasive within this circle of friends. Like Daisy, they are trying to evolve without being fully resolved. But when questions from the past go unheeded, you alone must find and give your answers true.
Suanne Laqueur's award-winning debut novel The Man I Love thrilled readers with its memorable characters and depth of emotion. Erik Fiskare's journey of love, recovery and forgiveness captivated hearts but also left questions unanswered. Now Daisy Bianco has a chance to tell her story.
It's been three years since a single lapse of judgment cost Daisy the love of her life. Erik was a conduit to her soul but now he's chosen a path of total disconnection, refusing to speak to her or acknowledge her betrayal. Alone and shattered, Daisy attempts to take responsibility for her actions while building her career as a professional dancer in New York City. But Erik's unforgiving estrangement proves too much for her strength. Plagued by flashbacks to the Lancaster shootings, she falls into a dangerous spiral of self-harm, cutting into her own skin as a means to atone. Only the timely appearance of an old friend, John "Opie" Quillis, saves her from self-destruction and gives her a chance to love again.
Laqueur skillfully weaves flashbacks to the college years with Daisy's present life. Supported by John's patient affection, she works to separate her evolution as an adult from the unresolved guilt and grief of her youth. As her professional accomplishments lift her out of depression, Daisy learns to hold onto her accountability without letting it become her identity. Years pass and she builds a beautiful life filled with dance and friends. Lovers come and eventually go, leaving her on her own with the old thought: Come back to me.
In this parallel narrative, Laqueur peels open the beloved characters from The Man I Love to reveal new and complex layers of vulnerability. The scars from the shooting are deep and pervasive within this circle of friends. Like Daisy, they are trying to evolve without being fully resolved. But when questions from the past go unheeded, you alone must find and give your answers true.
Excerpt
An unexpected cold front had come through Philadelphia, along with a mean rain. Without an umbrella, gloves or a hat, the walk back to Daisy’s dorm was brutal. The raw wind blew hard in her face and she tucked her mouth under the collar of her jacket. Trudging chin down through the damp chill, she reached her dorm and put her hand on the side door’s handle just as it opened into her.
It was Erik.
He grabbed both her upper arms tight and turned in a quick half circle so her back was against the bricks. He stared down at her, his breath making clouds in the cold night. His face wasn’t angry, but it was hard, as were the hands squeezing her upper arms.
“What’s wrong?” she said, heart pounding against the wall of her chest.
“I didn’t know where you were,” he said.
Her mouth fell open, at a loss. “I’m right here,” she said, stupidly.
“But I didn’t know where you were,” he said. His mouth was partly open too, working around words he couldn’t find.
She looked in his eyes, stunned and confused. Jealousy wasn’t like him. He blinked back at her, confused and raw and looking far younger than his nineteen years. Then she remembered what his mother had said: how a parent’s greatest fear was not knowing where their child was.
Or not knowing where your father is.
Or not knowing where anyone you love is.
It hit her all at once. How for some people, the not knowing was a mere nuisance. For others, it was a dire strait.
Daisy closed her eyes as understanding flooded her. This wasn’t resentment of how she spent her time or who she spent it with. It was her whereabouts. The fixed constant of her place in his universe. The knowing was dire for Erik, this boy who was abandoned overnight.
“I’m sorry,” she said, opening her eyes. “I’m so sorry. It was thoughtless of me. I should have let you know.”
His fingers let up and his shoulders dropped. He swallowed, looking away. “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s fine, it’s just that—”
“It’s not fine.” She put her hands on his face. “You need to know where I am. I didn’t understand but I do now. I’m sorry.”
Some deep fear-based emotion had coiled around him like a snake. His eyes blinked rapidly in the cold. He wasn’t crying but he was held up tight in a vise.
He was eight, Daisy thought, her cold hands running gentle along his shoulders and arms. His father was there one night and gone the next morning.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I won’t disappear like that again.”
He put his arms around her, pulled her tight to his body. “You’re freezing,” he said. “Come on, get inside.”
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