Grant spoke for several minutes.
He described the kind of life he believed he could provide for Nolan.
His words sounded polished.
His attorney occasionally added something.
I listened carefully.
There was no denying that Grant had financial advantages.
He had a good suit.
An expensive watch.
The ability to hire an attorney who could stand in court and present his arguments.
I had none of those things.
But I had been Nolan's mother through every difficult day.
I had been there when money was short.
I had been there when we had to make difficult choices.
I had been there when he needed reassurance.
Those things didn't appear on a bank statement.
The judge asked Grant several questions.
Grant answered confidently at first.
Then his answers became shorter.
I noticed Carroway checking his notes.
The judge returned to the subject of the photograph.
"Mr. Grant, your son has described circumstances that differ from the impression created by this image."
Grant looked uncomfortable.
"I don't know why he would say that."
Nolan lowered his eyes.
I squeezed his hand.
The judge continued.
"Do you believe your son is mistaken?"
Grant paused.
"I believe he's a child."
The words made my stomach tighten.
Nolan was a child.
That was exactly why I wished he hadn't needed to stand up and defend himself.
The judge looked at him.
"Nolan, you don't need to answer anything else unless you're asked."
My son nodded.
I was grateful.
I didn't want him to feel that he had to keep proving something.
The judge turned back to the adults.
He made it clear that the child's comfort and well-being had to remain the center of the proceeding.
I listened.
For months, I had felt as though every decision was being made around me.
Now, at least, the judge was reminding everyone who mattered most.
Nolan.
Not Grant's money.
Not my financial problems.
Not the photograph.
My son.
I looked at Grant.
He was staring at the table.
The watch on his wrist caught the light again.
I remembered how he had worn it so proudly when we entered.
I remembered thinking that he had everything and I had almost nothing.
But sitting there, I began to understand that appearances could be misleading.
An expensive watch couldn't tell the judge what kind of parent someone was.
Neither could a faded shirt.
I looked at Nolan.
He was tracing the edge of the moon embroidery with one finger.
I smiled faintly.
He noticed.
For the first time that morning, he smiled back.
It was a very small smile.
But I needed it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: When the Hearing Turned to My Son’s Needs, I Finally Stopped Apologizing for Being Poor
The Photograph That Made Me Question Everything I Had Done to Keep My Little Boy Safe
Part 10 of 20
