It started with two simple words: Dear Jamie. It ended with two simple words: Love, Eric. In between was the biggest load of crap I had ever read. After years of no contact, what did he expect from me? A sappy-ass response about how much I wanted to get to know my daddy and how thrilled I was to hear from him? No way would he get that. Not in a million years.

Annoyed, I shoved the letter back into its envelope and tossed it on my dresser. I had better things to worry about than an estranged father with a guilty conscience.

Eventually, however, I decided that I should at least humor him with a response. My mom was always telling me to be more polite. Might as well start with him, right?

Eric,
Thanks for the letter. Glad you're doing well. All is fine here.
-Jamie

Alright, so it may have been a little short. And I may or may not have written it on a post-it note. That's beside the point. The point is, I wrote him back"

"That's it," I thought. "It should be obvious that I have no interest in him. Now he can rest easy, knowing he at least tried." I was confident that I would never hear from him again.

Apparently, Eric was more stubborn than I originally thought. It wasn't long before I received another letter from him. He didn't mention my short response, nor did he complain about it being written on a sticky note. He just seemed so happy I replied.

Then, he dropped the bomb.

He said he'd be in town soon. And he wanted to see me. "Fat chance!" I thought angrily. This time I didn't care about being polite. I hoped he'd get the hint by my silence.

Wrong again. Two weeks later, I received yet another letter from him. This time he said he'd be in town on the 18th of September. He was going to get a table at the Slingshot Diner on Treasure Street at five o'clock. Whether or not I wanted to join him was completely up to me. He even included a picture so I could spot him.

Why couldn't he just leave me alone? Why did he have to push the issue? I thought I made it clear that I didn't give a damn about him. Either he was too stupid to catch on, or he didn't care what I wanted. Either way, he was pissing me off.

I never mentioned the letters to my mom. I figured that she wouldn't be too happy about it. We never talked about Eric. Ever. The only reason I even knew his name was because I found their wedding video in the attic when I was seven.

I had decided to collect hats for some reason, and crept upstairs to see if we had any I could add to my collection. While rooting around in a box shoved far into a corner, I came across a tape marked "Jacklyn and Eric's Wedding". I considered taking it downstairs and watching it, since I never knew what my father looked like, but instead I threw it back in the box and ran hat-hunt was abandoned.

Ironically, that was on Fathers' Day.

Even though I couldn't care less about Eric, I still felt bad about keeping the letters from my mom. After all, we told each other everything. So, casually, I tried bringing up the topic one day. Mom was washing dishes and I was doing myhomework.

"So, Mom," I began, "what's Er--my father like?"

"Why do you ask? Do you want to..meet him? Or something?" She turned to look at me.

"Oh, God no! I'm just curious is all."

Mom sighed. "Well, that's good. I'll tell you one thing: he's a loser. Always has been, always will be." She turned back to the dishes. "He left for work one morning and never came home. I got back from the grocery store, and here he had left a message on the answering machine saying he wasn't ever coming home. And that's all he said." She laughed. "To be honest, I'm glad he left. You and I have done a good job without him, right?" Mom dried her hands and looked at me.

"Right," I agreed with a nod. Mom kissed me on the top of my head and walked out of the kitchen, leaving me staring at the same math problem I had been for the last ten minutes.