The Collar Told the Truth

My mom always said, "I've never played favorites.

"You and your brother mean exactly the same to me."

She said it so often I almost believed it.

Growing up, anything my brother had, I had too.

If he got a new pair of sneakers, so did I.

If he signed up for coding classes, I was enrolled in the same ones.

Even this year, when we came home for the holidays, my mom smiled as she handed each of us a neatly-packaged designer shopping bag.

"I picked these out for you two at the store. One for each of you, exactly the same.

"These outdoor brands are expensive, you know. A single jacket costs thousands. I'd never buy one for myself, but I don't mind splurging on you two."

I took the jacket. It was well-cut, structured, and looked high-quality. A small warmth stirred in my chest.

However, when I tried it on, the collar felt oddly irritating against my skin.

Frowning, I pulled back the lining to check.

There was a ring of yellowed sweat stains around the label, and tiny flakes of dandruff were caught in the Velcro.

A faint musty smell lingered on the cloth, mixed with the stale odor of cheap tobacco. It was sour and impossible to ignore.

My stomach was doing somersaults, and I felt sick.

I grabbed the clothes and ran out of my room.

"Mom, what's up with this shirt? It's all dirty inside and smells weird!"

My mom, Jane Larkins, was in the kitchen slicing up some fruit.

When she heard me, she almost dropped the knife. She looked a little nervous, but then she acted like everything was fine.

"Oh, that thing?

"It was on display at the store, so maybe some other people tried it on.

"The lady at the store said they were almost out of stock and that was the last one. I didn't want to bother her to look for more.

"I steamed it to clean it up when we got home. I must have missed the dirt.

"Just wear it for now, and it'll be okay once you wash it. Don't give the store lady a hard time."

Mom was always too nice.

When the grocery store overcharged us, she just smiled and let it go.

If someone did not pay her back the money they borrowed, she never asked for it.

"How can we keep a jacket that costs so much when it's been worn before and is this dirty? I'm going to return it."

Mom grabbed my arm, suddenly sounding really worried. "Why return it now? Don't be such a bummer!

"If you don't like it, just leave it be for now. Don't cause a scene at the store and blow this out of proportion!

"I don't want us to look bad over this."

However, the more she tried to stop me, the more I knew something was not right.

I did not think Mom did anything wrong, but I felt like a sneaky store had tricked her.

We paid for something nice, but we received something not so nice.

The next day, when Mom went out to get groceries, I grabbed the jacket and went straight to the brand store downtown.

The store was all lit up, and the people working in the men's section were very well-dressed.

I slapped the jacket on the counter and pointed right at the nasty stain on the neck.

"Are these the kind of clothes you sell for thousands of dollars? Have they been worn for ages?"

The salesperson paused, slipped on some gloves, and looked over the jacket closely. His frown grew tighter.

Finally, he looked up, a weird look in his eyes. "Sir, first off, this jacket isn't from our store.

"Also, this storm jacket is last year's model. We stopped selling it a while ago and haven't sold any recently.

"However, the most important thing is..." He pointed to a line of tiny text on the jacket's inner label and then to the fabric's pattern. "The real label has raised stitching, but this one was printed flat. And this material isn't Gore-Tex, it's just regular coated fabric.

"It's a poorly made knock-off.

"And by the looks of it, it's not a sample. It seems like it has been worn for quite some time."

My head spun. Was it a fake? Was it second-hand?

Did Mom really pay full price for a used counterfeit jacket?

Before I left, the salesperson showed me how to spot the brand's knock-offs so I would not get tricked again.

Stepping out into the chilly air, I clenched my fists.

Mom was so careful with money. I wondered how upset she would be if she knew she had been tricked out of thousands.

Then, out of nowhere, I thought of my brother's jacket. Was that also a fake?