The sound of furious swipes of fingers over computer keys clashed with the dialogue from the TV. I sat cross legged in front of the coffee table in the living room, miserably attempting to balance my homework and Wednesday night shows. All the while aiding a friend with the beast that was physics homework because her usual solution of ‘Google it’ failed. Her next best search engine was me, but I was willing to assist her and make life easier. The muted sound of feet on carpet signaled mom’s presence in the living room. As she circled to the kitchen before settling down on the couch behind me, I straightened my back, broadening my shoulders in an effort to block the computer screen from her gaze. But mom always had a penchant for paying attention at meddlesome times.

“What are you doing?” she inquired in Vietnamese. I hung my head as the sound of her voice pierced through the characters in the background.

“Homework,” I curtly provided, throwing a weary glance behind me. My fingers continued to dance across the keys, spilling out answers and explanations. Mom sat on the couch, her positioning mimicking mine.

“No, you’re not. You have your email pulled up.” I could feel my body start to tense at her prodding. My eyes darted back to the laptop. A small ‘pop’ noise alerted me of a new chat message.

“I’m helping a friend with homework.”

I had barely finished the sentence when she interjected, “Why?” It came out genuinely puzzled.

I paused at the question. Against my better judgment, I twisted around to look at her. My brows furrowed as I took a moment to register what she just asked me. Cautiously, I began to formulate my reply, “Because she needs help. Why wouldn’t I help her?” Hard as I tried, my tone still conveyed my confusion.

Mother’s face morphed into displeasure as she crossed her arms. “What if she understands it better than you and does better on the test? She will get smarter, beat you in class and push you down in class ranking. What will you do then? Don’t help her.” The words came out evenly, sincerely, as if it was the most obvious answer to a basic question. Gravity dropped my jaw as a dry laugh squeezed its way out of my chest. Was she kidding? Could I Google this situation for advice on how to handle it? Maybe if I searched – “how to deal with crazy moms” – with quotation marks around it to capture that exact phrase I could find people who shared my experience. Or maybe I should add a – “~” – in front of crazy to include similar words. After all who was I to stifle someone’s vocabulary? But as much as I had hoped for the conversation to be a joke, it was not.

Over my years, I have developed certain techniques for interacting with my mother. Like topics taboo to discuss in mixed company, school and academics were our religion and politics. But occasionally updates about school were demanded. When those delicate moments arose, I tread lightly. Keep your cool, highlight the successes and brace yourself when delivering the mediocre results. If I was lucky, I would escape with a disappointed face and passive scold or even a rare – “good”. If not, the Richter scale ranged from 6 to 10. Mother always acted as if my progress was as simple as just typing – “how is my kid doing in school” – into Google and getting immediate results without any help. No keywords or aids, quotation marks or ‘+’ necessary. Perhaps every once in a while she would add 2008…2012, using the “…” to narrow her search’s date range so that she could pick out my recent achievements to parade to her friends as if I was her personal show pony. She paid no attention to the work, process, sweat and tears that went into the labor of AP classes, homework and tests. Only the results mattered. To her, my friends were props to use in my game against the school system for the highest class ranking and GPA. Friendship was not about camaraderie but keeping enemies closer. She sees the world as dog eat dog; so trust no one but yourself. I see it as a rough place where burdens are deposited on our shoulders every day. So why not have people to trust and help carry the load?

“So what do you suggest I do? I’m not going to sabotage my friend just because she might do better on a test and beat me in class ranking. If I needed help, she would be there for me.” The collar of my shirt started to feel suffocating. I could feel the flush of rage lurking beneath my skin and stinging threats of tears behind my eyes. Seconds that felt like hours ticked by as I waited with bated breath, clinging to oxygen like a drowning man, for her response. All that spoke however was the subtle frown etched onto her lips. Thankfully, we were both in no mood for an earthquake and the topic was dropped.

Mothers typically want the best for their children. With age, come experience and an understanding of a world that teenagers sometimes do not see. My mom knows that out in the real world, to succeed is to make yourself marketable and being number one helps. But I know that too. I know that dedication and hard work may not always be enough and that sometimes, a certain degree of ruthlessness is required. That being said, I also know that going through life anticipating ways to bring people down before they bring you down is a lonely and pessimistic way to live. My friends are my advance search features. They are the quotation marks that help me buckle down and focus, whether on homework or personal matters. They function as the ‘~’ and open my eyes to all the options in my life, and the ‘…’ helping me set limits for myself. From what is too much fun to what is burning yourself out. These people prevent me from wading through countless pages of junk results and trials to find what I am looking for, whatever that may be.

People suck. They lie, cheat, steal, and speak promises with words, then break them with actions. But we make up those people. We are humans, prone to mistakes. The best we can do is try. Try to be better and try to live up to the expectations in our head. A way to accomplish these heavy tasks is to find friends that help balance the effort and keep you on track. The friend I was helping did end up jumping to my rank and pushing me down one that semester. Naturally when I found out, my mom’s words seeped into my head like water through a sponge and roared in the back of my mind. For a fleeting moment, I thought what if and fueled it with panic before extinguishing the thought. I admit it. I am human. But I did not regret it and, instead, felt proud that I could successfully help my friend with her burden.