Confused and scared, I pedaled home and confronted Lolo. I recall him sitting into the garage, cutting coupons. I dropped my bike and ran up to him, showing him the green card. “Peke ba ito?” I inquired in Tagalog. (“Is this fake?”) My grandparents were naturalized American citizens as a food server — and they had begun supporting my mother and me financially when I was 3, after my father’s wandering eye and inability to properly provide for us led to my parents’ separation— he worked as a security guard, she. Lolo was a proud man, and I also saw the shame on his face as he told me he purchased the card, and also other fake documents, for me personally. Read more