F is for Family. And Fuck you, Father.

It started as a phone call to make birthday dinner plans with my father this week.

"Well, where do you want to go?"

"The Fish Market?" I tried.

"No, that's too expensive. I'll pick some place."

"Er, okay," I chewed. "So do you want to meet at my apartment first? We can do wine and appetizers?" This is what we do every year. "You haven't seen it since they upgraded me," I finished.

"No, Sarah. I do not want to see your apartment. I do not agree with you living with someone and I don't want to come over and see it anymore."

I was shocked. He just sounded so mean. "We can just meet at the restaurant then," I stammered. I quickly hung up the phone with him before he heard the tears.

"He said what?!" my mother gasped.

"It was just so mean and hurtful," I cried. "I don't even want to go out to dinner with him anymore."

"He proposed to your step-mom before I even knew about her existence," my mom growled.

"But he didn't move in with her until they were married," I said automatically. I think. I'm not sure; I was so little when it all happened.

"But he doesn't get to pick and choose righteousness," she barked. "I'm only telling you this so you will be angry and not sad."

"When my step-sister moved in with her boyfriend, they came to her apartment. She invited them over for dinner and they came. She told me that's what I need to do to get him over this. And I did. And he's refused," I sobbed.

"What does Scott say about all this?" she inquired.

"He's upset. He's upset because I'm upset. He's upset because he feels like the catalyst. He said he doesn't want to go out to dinner anymore either if it's going to be two hours of tension."

"I think he's right."

So I called my father back.

"I don't want to go to dinner anymore," I rushed, trying not to sound upset.

"That's your decision. Why?"

"Because I think you refusing to come over to my apartment is cruel and it hurts my feelings," I began.

"I don't agree with your lifestyle," he said clinically. It drives me nuts that he never shows any emotion towards me. He treats me like he does his customers.

"Well if you can't accept me, then you shouldn't be there to celebrate my life," I retorted.

"That's your decision," he repeated.

"No, it's yours. Goodbye."

I thought if I told him how I felt, he would change his mind. Instead he remained stoic as I cut him out of my life faster than he was trying to cut me out. I was stupid to think that we'd grown closer after my four-month stint living with him when I was 24. I was so stupid. All of a sudden I'm 16 again and I'm working two jobs to pay for my own way in life while he is a millionaire. Only one of my employers let me off for Father's Day; the other job denied my request off. And when I told him that I could only spend half the day with him, he got angry and we didn't talk for a year. My mother is right—he doesn't get to pick and choose when to be a father. He might have more right to his opinion if he didn't choose to live with and raise another family. He might have more of a right if I didn't serve as an afterthought.

And now we're officially estranged.