The Approval System

A month later, my phone received a text from an unfamiliar number.

"Miles, it’s Mom. Calvin says you blocked him? Stop being stubborn. Come home. Noah actually misses you."

I deleted the message without replying.

A short while later, my phone rang. It was Mom.

I answered. She said, "Miles, that’s enough. I had Calvin transfer $2,000 to your card. That should last you for a while. Come home this weekend for dinner. Families don’t hold grudges overnight."

I looked at the computer screen in front of me.

I had just finished writing a block of code. This was my first freelance project, and the payment was $3,000.

"No need," I said. "Keep the money. I’m not coming back."

"You—" She suppressed her anger. "Where are you right now? I’ll have the driver pick you up."

"I’m where I’m supposed to be."

I hung up.

A few minutes later, Noah sent me a message.

"Bro, don’t be mad at Mom. She actually cares about you. So does Pops. He’s just afraid you’ll spend money recklessly and pick up bad habits. Come back. I bought a bunch of new sneakers. I’ll give you a pair."

He attached a photo. It was his shoe cabinet, which had rows upon rows of sneakers under bright lights, appearing dazzling and excessive.

I saved the screenshot and replied, "Keep them for yourself. After all, your Pops said athletes need gear. They need the right setup. As for me, I’ve long been used to wearing old clothes."

Noah replied quickly with a string of crying emojis. "Bro, how can you say that about me? If Mom finds out, she’ll be upset."

Sure enough, Mom called again. This time, her voice carried anger. "Miles, how could you talk to your brother like that? Noah was showing concern, and this is your attitude?"

"Was it really concern?" I asked. "Mom, do you know that my math competition registration fee was delayed until it expired?"

She paused. "What competition? Calvin said that competition wasn’t useful anyway…"

"Then do you know that for the past three years, I had to submit an application in the Family Expense Portal just to buy a pair of socks?"

"That… that was to teach you financial discipline!" Her voice rose. "So now you’re blaming me? I fed you, clothed you, supported you… and I did it wrong?"

The same pattern.

Always the same.

I was tired.

"Forget it," I said. "You’ll always think you’re right."

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. When she spoke again, her tone had softened.

"Miles, I'm doing this for your own good. How about this? Going forward, I’ll have Finance transfer your living expenses to you directly every month. We won’t go through the Family Expense Portal anymore. Okay?

"And since you were recommended for admission, what kind of reward do you want? A phone? A laptop? I will buy it for you.

"Noah’s birthday celebration is next month. Come back then. We’re family…"

I closed my eyes.

You see, she never understood. She thought I was throwing a tantrum and that I wanted more attention, more material things.

"Mom," I cut her off. "I don’t need a new phone. I don’t need to attend a birthday party. I just need you to understand this: my leaving this family wasn’t an impulse. It was premeditated.

"Three years ago, when Dad cried and begged me not to go, and I chose you for in-state residency, I already knew this was a transaction.

"Now, the transaction is over."

…

The next time I saw my mom was at a university admissions consultation fair.

I was there as a volunteer, helping guide attendees. I wore a plain white T-shirt and jeans, all clothes bought with money that I earned myself.

She appeared at the venue with Noah and Calvin. Noah was applying as a student athlete.