next day. And the day after. He wore it until I had to wash it while he was sleeping so he’d have it clean for the morning.
EzoicMy mother noticed how much he loved it. One evening, she took it into the living room with her sewing kit.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Adding something,” she said, and winked.
Behind the embroidered moon, on the inside of the shirt, she sewed a tiny secret pocket. Just big enough to hold a small coin or a folded piece of paper.
You couldn’t see it from the outside. You’d only know it was there if someone showed you.
“Every brave boy needs a secret pocket,” she told Nolan, showing him how it worked. “For important things.”
EzoicNolan’s eyes went wide.
“What kind of important things?”
“Whatever you decide is important,” she said. “That’s the rule. Nobody else gets to decide.”
Part Four: The ShirtNow, four months later, that shirt was on a poster board in a courtroom, being used to argue that I couldn’t take care of my own child.
As
