My daughter went missing in Egypt 20 years ago — Then one day, a postcard arrived that brought me to my knees
“I just wanted to ask a quick question,” she said. “Is that passage before or after the part where you left me stranded at Claire’s apartment?”
Dead silence fell upon the room. Tara marched up to the podium, placing Claire’s note and her collection of birthday letters.
“My name is Tara,” she said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “And I’m the daughter that he claimed had been abducted in Cairo twenty years ago. But he didn’t lose me. He kept me hidden.”
A reporter from the front row shot straight up on his feet and demanded Grant to confirm whether he’d deny the allegations made against him. He remained standing as though caged and kept mumbling something like he just tried to shield everyone from the truth.
I stepped up beside Tara and stared at him, saying, “Your only concern was saving your image. In the process, you ruined our lives.”
That night after the show, Tara came to my apartment. I went into the closet and took out an old cedar box I had carried with me in all those years since then. Inside the box was her ribbons, her tiny little red shoes, an old card with a pancake recipe we used to cook together, and several missing person flyers, which had now turned frayed and cuddly with age.
“I never let go of anything about you,” I told her.
For twenty long years, I hated Egypt because I thought it took my baby away from me. But the desert didn’t take her—it was a disgusting, selfish lie that stole her childhood. But the truth finally caught up, and it brought my daughter right back to my kitchen table.
See more on the next page
