“I low-key want to thrift it this year, I’ve seen so many people thrift those fur jackets online.”

“I don’t know, it sounds like they’d be dirty. Let’s just buy clothes that aren’t… preworn.” She sneered, brushing her hair over her shoulder. The two girls stood in front of me at the clothing rack, their voices lined with privilege.

I walk slowly away, waiting for them to leave. I keep busy by pretending to look through the book section. My hands follow their curved spines, each caked in dust. Soon I hear their shrill voices depart, so I move back to the jackets. It’s 2:00, I don’t have long until I need to be at the school to pick up my son. I desperately need to find him a winter coat. He only has the one I bought him two years ago and his rangy arms have seemed to double in length. They stick out of his sleeves, numb in the December air. I shuffle through the coats until I finally find one his size. It’s crimson red with a dark fleece interior, there’s some distressing around the zipper, but I know he won’t mind. He understands our situation in a way others don’t; or at least he doesn’t judge like others tend to.

The cashier rings up each item: a coat, two plates, and a pair of cleats with two different colored laces.

“That’ll be $8.47, Ma’am.”

“I-I’m sorry, I thought green tags were half-off today.” I look at the man sheepishly, I only have about seven dollars left on my card until Friday. His eyes meet mine, there’s a sense of annoyance, but also pity.

“The plates are green stickered, not tagged. I can do one plate for a dollar instead of two for two dollars if you’d like.”

The woman behind me sighs impatiently.

“No, that’s fine I’ll just put them back. Just the coat and cleats please.” I smiled apologetically, but he didn’t look up from the register.

Our dishes are chipped around the edges. I figured it’d be nice to have new ones, but I guess they aren’t necessities. I shove the cleats into my bag on the way to the car; I don’t want Jared to see them until his birthday party tomorrow.

It’s 2:33 and I see him barreling out of the school towards me. I catch him in my arms, laughing.

“You’re almost getting too big for that, Jared.” He hops back to the ground smiling. My back aches, I can feel the pressure in my shoulders tense and release, almost pulsating. I haven’t been able to refill my prescription this month.

In the car, I see his curious eyes in the rearview mirror. He likes to watch the powerlines dip between the poles. He told me they remind him of ocean waves. I like the way his mind works, a little abstract at times.

“So, how was school?”

“It was pretty good. Recess was really cold though, my hands get tingly sometimes.”

“Where are the gloves I got you last year? They should help to keep your hands warm.”

“Oh, I think I might’ve lost them.” His eyes darted down to his lap, I noticed his hands fidgeting. He keeps track of everything, more than any kid or adult I’ve ever met.

“Where do you think you lost them?”

“Umm I don’t know. I don’t think I remember.” His eyes don’t move from his lap. His fingertips are digging into his cuticles.

“That’s okay, hon. We’ll try and get you some new ones.” My lips lift into a hopeful smile. Though I know I won’t be able to afford it this month, I can’t stomach seeing his little hands trembling in the cold.

“I have something for you.” I grinned wider, his eyes finally met mine in the mirror.

“A birthday gift? It’s a day early!”

“Well – no, it’s not exactly a gift because it’s something you need. But I got you a new coat! It should have sleeves much longer than your current one.” I laughed lightly and handed the crimson coat back to him.

He gasped excitedly, taking off his jacket to wear it.

“Thank you so much, I love it.”

“I’m glad. I’m sorry you’ve had to wear that other one for so long.”

“That’s okay, I understand.” It breaks my heart a little to hear him say that, because he shouldn’t have to understand anything. I just wish I could give him all in life that he deserves.

From across the dinner table, I watch Jared’s fork pick through his food, scratching side to side on the ceramic surface.

“I know recess was pretty cold today, but did you do anything fun?” His fork continued to scratch, scraping audibly.

“Not really I guess. I just sat on the swings.”

“Did you swing on the swings or just sit in place?” I chuckled, trying to get a smile out of him.

“I guess I just sat. The chains were too cold to hold and swing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry hon. I really will try to get you some gloves if we can’t find your old ones. You know what, I’ll search the house for them tonight, I’m sure they’re in here somewhere.”

“No, Mom. It’s okay, I promise.” His fork stood still, resting in his hand.

“What do you mean? It’s really no trouble, I’ll find them for you.”

“We won’t find them here, it’s okay.” His tone shifted, he gripped the fork tensely.

“I really think we will, I know I misplaced a hat last week and it was under – ”

“They aren’t here, Mom! They’re nowhere!” The fork dropped to the floor, his wide eyes were glazed with tears.

“Jared, honey, what’s wrong? What are you talking about?”

“… They’re gone. He stole them. Then he took them inside and cut them up. I – I’m sorry, I told him to stop, I didn’t want him to ruin them.” His face hung low, his cheeks saturated with tears. I got up and rushed over to him, placing my hands on his shoulders.

“Look at me, don’t you ever apologize for what someone else did to you. Do you understand?” He nodded, sniffling.

“Who took them, Jared?” I got no immediate response, his sobs only left him with incoherent noises rather than speech. I rubbed his back and waited.

“It was Ryan. H-he said they were old and dirty. He said I was dirty- he said I was disgusting. He yelled it to everyone so no one would play with me,” his meek voice trembled. I embraced him tightly, choking back my own tears. I need to be strong for him, he needs to know that he can depend on his own mother.

“Listen, some people are going to be cruel. They’ll say untrue things to feel superior. When people try to belittle you, it’s because they’re compensating for feeling small themselves.”He peered up at me, “really?”

“Yes, everyone has their own issues and insecurities, even if they don’t let them show. A person is cruel to others when they’re unhappy with themselves. Don’t let anything anyone says impact you like this. You’re not dirty, disgusting, or anything except the kindest kid I know. You’re smart, and you’re strong. You don’t need to listen to little boys trying to push you down. I love you.” His face turned into a subtle smile, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands.

“I love you too, Mom, thank you.” I felt my heart shudder again. How do you explain to a child that they’re worth so much more than others tell them? It’s not even the other kids’ faults; they were molded by their parents to view other’s worth by their wealth. A child can only be as kind as those who raised them, or as cruel.

I couldn’t seem to sleep that night. I spent hours lying still on my bed, watching the oak trees sway out the window. Their branches moving stiffly in the wind, packed in snow. I began thinking about Jared; the way his knuckles must turn blue and his fingertips white out at recess. I begin picturing him desolately seated on a swing, rubbing his palms together, unable to pull his hands into the too-small-sleeves of his coat. Soon my pillow is wet with tears, everything in me aches. Then, I think back to my own day at elementary school. My Grandmother had made all my winter gear, she knitted and sewed and seemed to be able to craft anything from scratch. I sat up in bed and took a fleece blanket out to the kitchen. I stayed up longer, cutting, tracing, pinning, and stitching.

I let Jared stay home from school for his birthday, he came out of his room elated. His eyes burst open when he saw two wrapped gifts on the table instead of one. “Happy birthday! I can’t believe you’re eight already, it feels like just yesterday I was taking you home, swaddled in your little blue blanket.” He laughed blithely, wrapping his arms around me. I don’t know how such a sweet boy managed to come out of this home, I hope he never loses that.

“Can I open them now?” He sat himself at the table, admiring the silver wrapping paper.

“Of course, hon.”

His fingers pinched at the corners, carefully pulling the tape off the sides. I’ve never told him to reuse the paper, but he always keeps it in good condition to be used again.

His hands are steady, I see his eyes focus in on the paper, his smile still wide on his face. Soon he reveals the cleats, one with orange laces and one with red. I had cleaned them, cautiously scrubbing any dirt from between the spikes. They look close to new, but their mismatched laces and slight fraying give them away. He removed the shoes and clutched them to his chest: “thank you Mom! I can’t wait for Spring, I love these so much.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind the laces? I can try to find new ones, black ones or-”

“Why would we get matching ones? Red and orange are my favorite colors.” I felt my heart tug again, but in a happier way than before. Next he unwrapped the gloves, I can’t believe I pulled them together in a few hours. Not that they were perfect, but the stitching was straight and the material was thick and soft.

“I hope you like them, they should keep you warm outside.” For a moment, he stayed quiet. His head hung low, his hands grasped them tightly.

“Are they okay?”

He looked up to me with glossy eyes and a great smile. “Did you make these, for me?”

“Of course I did, I couldn’t afford them at the moment but I knew you needed them.”

“They’re perfect and I won’t let anybody tell me otherwise.”

I embraced him tightly and we held in place for a minute. I couldn’t help but stop and appreciate the levels of love, understanding, and emotional intelligence radiating from a kid this young- my kid. I know I’ll rest easy tonight knowing he’ll be able to speak for himself, and be warm out at recess.