Michael is my son. I believed that our rocky teenage years were behind us, as he turned 22 last month. I had no idea that a storm was building directly beneath my nose.
Michael barged in the kitchen, his face contorted with annoyance, while I was making lunch.
“We need to talk, Mom,” he remarked in an uncharacteristically serious tone.
I turned to face him and asked, “Yes, honey, what’s on your mind?”
Arms folded, he leaned against the counter. “A car is what I need.”
I hesitated, surprised. “A vehicle? How did your part-time work go? You were putting money aside for one.
Michael sighed with exasperation. “I know, but I really need it now, and it’s taking forever to save up.”
I scowled and used a kitchen towel to wipe my hands. “Cars are pricey, Michael. You are aware of that. Additionally, since you work, you can save a little bit more money and—
He interrupted me, impatient, saying, “No, Mom, I can’t wait anymore.” I’m sick and tired of relying on you for rides or the bus because all of my pals own vehicles. I must have my independence.
“Michael, I understand, but we can’t just afford to buy you a car out of the blue,” I said, feeling annoyed. It’s not really that easy.
With clinched jaw, he narrowed his eyes. “Well, then I might just move in with Dad.” I’ll get an automobile from him.
His remarks were like a ton of bricks to me.
Rather of being a good dad, my ex-husband David always sought to buy Michael’s affection. I was shocked that Michael would even consider making such a suggestion.
Trying not to lose my cool, I added, “Michael, you can’t just threaten to leave because you’re not getting what you want.”
“Why not? I would make my dad very happy. He always treats me,” he shot out in a furious tone.
This isn’t about your dad,” I said, taking a deep breath as I tried to organize my thoughts. It has to do with accountability. Now that you’re an adult, part of being an adult involves making mature choices.
“Yeah, responsible decisions like being the only one among my friends without a car,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Even if our talk came to an end there, the tension persisted. I was stuck with a sense of concern and disappointment.
Michael and I had tense moments and silent treatments over the next few days. Every time I attempted to bring up the subject, disagreements broke out.
We had dinner one evening, and I made the decision to give it another go.
“Michael, may we please revisit the car issue?” With caution, I inquired.
“What’s there to talk about, Mom?” he grumbled, prodding at his food. You refuse to get me one even now.
“Michael, it goes beyond just getting you a car. I said, trying not to sway, “It’s about the way you’re handling this whole situation.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his expression defensive as he looked up.
“I mean, it’s not how adults manage things to threaten to leave if you don’t get what you want. Excuse me, but that’s unfair to manipulate me like that. I said, feeling both sad and frustrated.
“I’m just tired of waiting,” he shrugged. Dad could relate.
Michael, Dad isn’t in the room. Additionally, getting you a car won’t fix everything. And what about the associated costs? Maintenance, insurance… I stopped talking, thinking he would get the hint.
After a little period of silence, he pushed his plate aside and said, “Forget it, Mom. You’re never going to get it.
I couldn’t help but feel guilty as he was leaving the table, wondering if I was being too strict or if there was some other way I wasn’t doing a good job of raising my kids.
Weeks passed, and the tension in the house didn’t seem to go down. Michael grew increasingly aloof, spending most of his time alone in his room or out with friends.
I discovered this message on the kitchen counter one Saturday morning:
“Mom, I’m going to spend some time with Dad. I can no longer bear to be here. Perhaps he will comprehend me more fully.
I read the words and my heart fell. Though I knew this day may arrive, I never imagined it would take place in this manner.
When I called Michael’s number right away, it went straight to voicemail. I began to feel panicked as I attempted to remember where David was living at the time. Years had passed since the divorce before we had spoken.
