"Dad. You and Mom have spent all these years keeping score down to the last penny. She's not really a wife to you. You're not really a husband to her. So why keep dragging this out? Just get a divorce."
He stared at me for a long, heavy moment.
"Your mother is the one who insisted on changing your surname."
He refused to bring up the original agreement. I didn't bring it up either. There was no point.
I nodded.
"Mom made a stupid decision. Fine. But even if I don't carry the Gilbert name, I'm still your daughter. She's still your wife."
"Instead, for all these years, she's been doing your housework for free, and you still won't help raise your own kid."
My mother, that hopeless pushover. Dad never gave her a dime, and she still cleaned his house. Still cooked his meals. Still dragged me along to help.
Every word I spoke dripped with resentment.
Even Zachery was squirming in his seat.
My father slammed his palm on the table.
"You took your mother's name. That means you're not my child. Your mother can't afford to raise you? That's her problem for being useless. What's it got to do with me?"
"I offered to raise you as long as you switched your name back. Your mother refused! And the housework? That's her job. I don't even charge her rent."
"You're all grown up now. Even if I gave you money, you probably wouldn't remember any kindness from me. After all, whoever raises a child is the one they love."
"You won't need me in my old age anyway, so we might as well keep things the way they are..."
In plain terms, he was done with me. He didn't want to spend a dime.
His parents didn't make a sound. They were on his side, always had been. They only invested in the kid who carried their name.
I looked at the two of them, sitting there with their combined retirement income of over eight grand a month, and I couldn't help but silently curse my maternal grandparents again.
Where did they get the nerve to claim they raised me? By feeding me air?
"You think you can just shake me off, Dad? It won't be that easy."
I hated everyone now.
I hated my mother, hated Grandpa and Grandma Abbott for being broke and still refusing to let me change my last name, letting me suffer through eighteen miserable years for nothing.
I hated my father, his parents, and my brother for watching me struggle and pretending they didn't see a thing.
I smiled at my father.
Keep things the way they are?
Dream on.