Grandma had a boyfriend.
He was half her age. Younger. To me, they were an odd couple.
We weren’t rich, didn’t have much except each other;
but sometimes that’s not enough.
What about money? What about the rent? What about the water?
What about the electricity? What about school uniforms?
What about food? Are we even going to have a meal today?
What if this happened? What if that happened?
Questions racing inside my head.
Inside a seven year old little girl’s mind.
With him around we were somehow able to avoid these questions.
He has money. He has a job.
But it’s not a very decent or respectable one.
He sold drugs. Marijuana.
He offered me once, twice, so many times I lost count.
Not once have I had any of the stuff he sold in my system.
I’ve seen the process, how they made it, how they used it.
I hated him. For trying to manipulate me
as a foolish child. I was however convinced that the day will come
when I no longer have to live with an addict and pusher.