My 22-Year-Old Son Says He’ll Move Out and Live With My Ex-Husband if I Don’t Buy Him a Car
Last month, Alex, who just turned 22, caused an unexpected stir during a typical day. While I was preparing lunch, he stormed into the kitchen, visibly upset.
“Mom, we need to talk,” he said with an unusual seriousness.
“Sure, what’s up?” I asked, setting aside the utensils.
Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, he said, “I need a car.” I was taken aback. “A car? What happened to the money you were saving from your part-time job?”
With an exasperated sigh, he replied, “It’s taking too long. I need it now.” I tried to reason with him, “Cars are expensive, Alex. You need to save up more.”
He was impatient. “No, Mom, I can’t wait any longer. All my friends have cars. I want my freedom.”
I felt a growing frustration. “Alex, it’s not just about buying a car. It’s a significant expense, and we need to consider the costs involved.”
He snapped back, “Maybe I’ll just go live with Dad. He’ll buy me a car.”
His words hit me hard. Jake, my ex-husband, has always tried to buy Alex’s affection instead of being a responsible parent. I was shocked that Alex would even consider this.
“You can’t just threaten to leave because you don’t get what you want,” I said, trying to stay calm.
“Why not? Dad would probably spoil me,” he retorted.
Taking a deep breath, I replied, “This is about responsibility. Being an adult means making responsible choices.”
He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, responsible choices like being the only one without a car.”
Our conversation ended with tension lingering. I felt both disappointed and worried. The following days were filled with silent treatments and arguments every time I brought up the issue.
One evening during dinner, I tried to address it again.
“Alex, can we talk about the car situation again?” I asked cautiously.
He sighed, “What’s there to talk about? You’re not going to buy me one.”
“It’s not just about the car. It’s how you’re handling this,” I said, trying to stay composed.
He looked defensive, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, threatening to move out if you don’t get your way isn’t mature. It’s not fair to manipulate me,” I explained, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness.
He shrugged, “I’m just tired of waiting. Dad would understand.”
“Dad isn’t here. Plus, buying a car doesn’t solve everything. What about insurance, maintenance?” I trailed off, hoping he would understand.
He stayed silent for a moment before pushing his plate away. “Forget it. You’ll never get it.”
As he left the table, I felt a pang of guilt, questioning if I was being too harsh or failing as a parent.
Weeks went by, and the tension only grew. Alex distanced himself, spending time with friends or staying in his room.
One Saturday morning, I found a note on the kitchen counter:
“Mom, I’m staying with Dad for a while. I can’t handle it here anymore. Maybe he’ll understand me better.”
My heart sank as I read the note. I tried calling Alex, but it went straight to voicemail. Panic set in as I scrambled to remember where Jake lived. It had been years since we had any contact after the divorce.
