As I cooked lunch, my 22-year-old son Michael stormed in, his face twisted in frustration. “Mom, we need to talk,” he said, his tone serious. I turned off the stove, sensing a storm brewing.
“What’s on your mind, honey?” I asked, trying to sound calm.
“I need a car,” he said, arms folded. I paused, taken aback. We had discussed this before, and I thought he understood that cars come with responsibilities and expenses.
“Michael, we can’t just afford to buy you a car out of the blue,” I explained patiently. But he cut me off, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’ll just go live with Dad then. He’ll buy me a car.”
His words hit me like a ton of bricks. My ex-husband, David, always tried to buy Michael’s affection instead of being a responsible parent. I couldn’t believe Michael would even suggest such a thing.
As the days passed, our conversations turned into arguments, and the tension in the house escalated. I felt frustrated, worried, and guilty, wondering if I was being too harsh or failing as a parent.
One Saturday morning, I found a note on the kitchen counter: “Mom, I’m going to stay with Dad for a while. I can’t stand being here anymore. Maybe he’ll understand me better.” My heart sank as I read the words. I knew this day might come, but I never thought it would happen like this.
I immediately dialed Michael’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. Panic rose within me as I tried to think of where David lived now. We hadn’t been in touch for years after the divorce. I felt lost, unsure of how to bridge the gap between us.