You have a right to know
To know what?
That I was abandoned?
I knew that already

Honey, I think it’s time your grandfather and I told you the truth
About your father
Your father
is
a drunk

Really? I had no idea. I thought he always smelled heavily of whiskey and that coming home late was his thing
You tell me that I can’t go back
You say it like it’s the most tragic thing in the whole world, perhaps more tragic than the fact that my parents deserted me
Like I’d want to go back

You don’t know me, Grandmama
You think I want to be here?
You still have this image of me in your mind of the little girl with braids in her hair and a flower crown around her head who liked My Little Pony
I’m not five, Grandmama.

You still think I don’t know the truth
That I don’t know that my father was a drunk and my mother
a prostitute
You think I don’t know that selling her body was the only thing she knew how to do
She was never there for me; to tell me I was going to be okay or that failure happens in life

Wake up, Grandmama
I know
And you know
That I know
The truth