Dear Jeffrey Mark Spencer

 

I thought I could forget you

The empty parking lot at Irvings and missed phone calls long forgotten

It even became a joke to us

We pass by the designated pick up stop where we would wait for hours for you to show up

We now say “oh! Daddy isn't here again!”.  

This time, without the tears

That's what the idea of you use to be, a joke.

 

Now college is approaching, and once again

Your fuzzy figure has come back into focus

But there's forms for you to fill out

My “biological father” must fill out

My “non custodial parent” must fill out

Or how I like to phrase it, the ‘sperm donor’ must fill out

Again, my memory of you has resurfaced when it is so crucial that you shouldn't

Ive proven time and time again that i've gotten so far without you, but now i need to work extra hard to get into my schools of choice because once again, the slack you've dropped

I have to pick up

 

The situation is a grey area

We don’t have a restraining order

There are no legal documents stating that you cannot see us

No, it is solely on your part that we don’t see you

Your choice

Your sorry excuses

Even the court shed a tear with your act

How do I explain my situation?

Oh, it’s simple, really

My dad decided to up and leave us

Every weekend visit turned into every other weekend

Every other weekend turned into biweekly

Biweekly visits turned into monthly

And monthly turned into you never seeing us again and only calling to wish Emma a happy 21st birthday a month late

She was 19.

 

I, however, am not graced with false birthday wishes

In fact, mom told me you never even considered me your child

Your girlfriend put some shit in your head

Mom had an affair? I don’t look anything like you?

Tell that to the crystal blue eyes you gave me that have wasted tears on your actions

And yet, you refused the paternity test

Yeah, wouldn’t wanna shatter your pride after you’ve spewed that shit out loud

Don’t worry, you didn’t have any left after you left us

 

How are your kids?

Jeffrey and Savannah, right?

Do they remember us from the small visits we had?

How old are they? I have to put that on the forms too

Do you know how old I am?

I have an inkling that you do,

You’ve been counting down the months until I turn 18

That measly $61 a week will finally be yours to keep

 

Now, as I’m filling out these waivers

Im realizing just how much I dont know about you

Had to ask mom how to spell your name

What was his middle name again? Mark?

Phone number? Unknown

Email? Unknown

Address? Unknown

Job? Unknown

City? State? Zip code? Unknown

Nothing. I don’t know shit

Now, as i write your name on these pages

I get a sick sense of familiarity when I see we still share the same last name

You’re still attached, dangling from a scrawny thread

Spencer; the name I write every day on my school papers

The same name my mother took on your two’s wedding day

The same name Emma got

The same name I got

The same same name I’m writing down on these waivers to signify that your position in my life is insignificant enough to not regard you as an actual parent

You, Jeffrey Mark Spencer, are irrelevant

You, are a joke.