Unless I buy him a car, my 22-year-old son says he will leave the house and live with my ex-husband.

Michael is my son. I thought we were past the rough teenage years because he turned 22 last month. I had no idea that a storm was building up right next to me.

Michael stomped in the kitchen while I was making lunch, his face twisted with anger.

I asked him, “Sure, honey, what’s on your mind?”

He put his arms down and leaned against the counter. “I need a car.”

I stopped for a moment, shocked. “A car?” Where did your part-time job go? You were putting money aside for one.

Michael let out a stressed-out sigh. “Yes, but I need it right away and it’s taking too long to save up.”

I made a face and wiped my hands on a kitchen towel. “Michael, cars cost a lot of money.” You already know that. You have a job, so you can save a little more money, and—”

He cut me off, “No, Mom, I can’t wait any longer.” I’m sick of your rides or taking the bus because all of my friends have cars. “I need to be free.”

It made me mad, so I told Michael, “I get it, but we can’t just buy you a car out of the blue.” It’s not that easy.

His eyes got narrow as he clenched his jaw. “Okay, I think I’ll just move in with my dad then.” I’ll get a car from him.

What he said hit me like a ton of bricks.

My ex-husband David never tried to be a good parent; instead, he always tried to buy Michael’s love. I couldn’t believe Michael would even think of that idea.

I tried to keep my cool and told Michael, “You can’t just say you’re going to leave because you’re not getting what you want.”

“Why not?” My dad would love to have me. “He spoils me all the time,” he replied, his voice adamant.

I tried to calm down by taking a deep breath. “This isn’t about your dad,” I said. It has to do with duty. Now that you’re an adult, makes decisions that are right for you.

He rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, safe choices like not having a car like everyone else in my group of friends.”

Even though we stopped talking, the tension was still there. I couldn’t get rid of the sadness and worry that I was feeling.

The next few days were full of phone calls and tension between Michael and me. The subject came up in arguments every time I tried to bring it up.

We were having dinner one night, and I chose to try again.

“Hey Michael, can we talk about the car again?” I asked with care.

While he poked at his food, he sighed and asked, “What’s up, Mom?” “You’re not going to buy me one yet.”

“Michael, it’s not just about getting you a car.” My voice stayed steady as I said, “It’s about how you’re handling this whole thing.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a defensive look on his face.

“I mean, adults don’t yell that they’ll leave if they don’t get what they want.” I told them, feeling a mix of anger and sadness, “That’s not fair to use that against me.”

“I’m just tired of waiting,” he said with a shrug. Dad would get it.

“Michael, Dad is not here. Also, getting you a car won’t make things better. How about the costs that come with it? “Insurance, repairs, etc.” I got off track and hoped he would get it.

After a moment of silence, he pushed his plate away and said, “Forget it, Mom.” “You’ll never get it.”

I felt bad as he left the table because I didn’t know if I was being too strict or if I was failing as a parent in some way.

The stress in the house seemed to get worse as the days turned into weeks. Michael pulled away from her and spent most of his time with friends or alone in his room.

I found a note on the kitchen counter one Saturday morning:

“Mom, I’m spending some time with my dad.” I can’t take being here any longer. He might get it better this time.

As I read the words, my heart sank. I thought this day would come, but I had no idea it would go this way.

I called Michael’s number right away, but it went to voicemail. As I tried to remember where David lived now, I felt panic start to rise inside me. After the divorce, we hadn’t talked in years.

I finally found David’s phone number after a lot of searching and called it, hoping he would answer.

“Hello?” David’s voice on the other end sounded shocked.

“David, this is Sarah. I… “I need to know if Michael is with you!” I yelled, trying to keep my cool even though I was getting scared.

There was silence for a moment before he spoke.

“What’s going on, Sarah?” Michael isn’t right here.

It made my heart sink even more. “He wrote in his note that he wants to stay with you.” He’s mad that I’m not going to buy him a car.

With a sigh of frustration, David said, “I thought something like this might happen.” I will try to talk to him if he comes, but he can’t avoid his problems.

Before I hung up, I thanked him. There were days when Michael didn’t say anything. I tried to call and text him, but he didn’t answer. I kept worrying about him so much that I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

Then one night there was a knock on the door. As I rushed to answer, my heart jumped into my throat. It was Michael. He had a duffle bag over his shoulder and looked tired and defeated.

“May I talk to you, Mom?” His voice was low as he asked.

I felt better as I hugged him and said, “Of course, come in.”

After sitting down in the living room, Michael said, “I’m sorry, Mom.” His voice was shaking. “I was being stupid.” “It’s okay, Michael,” I said as I gently squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re back.”

He avoided my eyes and looked down. “I see now that running away wasn’t the answer.” When I got there, Dad had no idea what I was talking about. I said, “I’m just glad you’re safe,” with a mix of sadness and relief in my heart. But we need to talk about what took place.

Besides that, we talked. We talked about adult problems, being responsible, and how to talk to each other. It wasn’t fun, but we had to have that conversation. Michael finally realized that getting a car wasn’t just a way to get more freedom; it also came with responsibilities. I also knew that talking to people was important, even when things were hard.

We worked on making our relationship stronger than it was before. We knew there would be problems, but we would face them together.