Spilled Milk: Based on a true story (16 page)

Ethan flipped
through pages, pointing and calling out baby gibberish. My hand moved through
his silky blonde straws of hair and my lips sunk into his cheek.

For years, I
thought that ignoring and denying what happened in our home was protecting my
brothers and sister. I knew, now, that it was only enabling him. The longer I
kept his secrets, the longer he could continue to do whatever he pleased. As
Ethan nodded off to sleep in my arms I touched his nose with my index finger.
“You, little man, are my saving grace.”

***

Paul went to
the bus stop to get Joseph, and I watched him cross the front lawn before I
picked up the phone in the kitchen. My hands trembled as I dialed the number
for social services and slipped a piece of paper out of my pocket. I knew I would
forget something, so I wrote down what I needed to say in a paragraph. An
operator picked up and I smoothed the paper out in front of me.

When I finished
rattling off what I needed to say, she asked for my name and to explain how I
knew what I knew. “I can’t tell you my name. But you have to believe me. Listen
to my voice, I’m a child, and I’m terrified. You need to help these kids.” I
hung up and returned the phone to the dock in the kitchen.

Joseph bounced through
the door. “Hey Brooke, wanna watch Spongebob with me?”

“No,” Paul
replied for me, “She doesn’t. Watch it yourself.” Paul walked past me and
stormed off to his bedroom. I followed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why do you
always
ask that? Do you have a guilty conscience?”

“N-No, you just
seem…”

“Seem what? I
don’t have time for this. I’m going to Judd’s.”

“I just got
here.” My voice rose when I didn’t want it to. “I thought we were going to hang
out today.”

“Why because
it’s convenient for you? Are you sure you don’t have to go meet with your
counselor or go spend hours talking in the kitchen with my mom?”

“What is your
problem?”

“You. You are
my problem.” He chucked his book bag onto the bed and shoved a pair of jeans
inside. “I’m only fifteen. I don’t need to be worried about you like I am all
the time. All I do is wonder if you’re okay and I don’t even know why!” His
hands shot up into the air. “You don’t tell me anything and when I finally do
get to spend time with you, you look like you’re going to cry or all you want
to do is talk in whispers with my mom.”

“Are you sure
this is all about me?” I pressed. “Nothing else
bothering
you
.
”

His eyes
narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,
maybe I don’t like you telling half the school that we have sex all the time.
Mainly because we don’t, but also because it’s none of their business. I know
about you sneaking off with your guys to smoke weed and drink, so don’t think
I’m stupid. I’m your girlfriend, and maybe you should respect-”

“No, you’re
not.”

I stared at
him. “I’m not what?”

“My girlfriend.”

He threw his book
bag over his shoulder and rushed out the bedroom door.

“What?” I
followed him.

“Go away.”

“What? No, I
won’t go away.”

I followed him
into the driveway just as a car pulled up and honked. A guy I didn’t recognize
stuck his hand out the window and motioned for Paul to get in.

“Paul, wait.” Panic
rose in my chest.

“Brooke, I’m
done. I don’t want to do this anymore.” He turned towards the car.

“Wait, Paul,
don’t.” I reached out and grabbed his elbow. “Can we talk?”

“No, we can’t.
And if you don’t stop following me, I’ll never talk to you again. I need time.”

“How much
time?” I couldn’t control the pitch in my voice.

“It’s not up to
you! Weeks, months, years, whatever it takes. I’m not doing this anymore. Have
fun playing mommy, or housewife, whatever it is you do. See ya later.”

The car sped
off and I could hear the music thumping until they drove past where I worked. I
stood in the driveway with my hand on the bridge of my nose. Everything
happened so fast I wasn’t sure how to feel. As I stood there thinking about the
phone call I just made, Paul walking out of my life, Ethan at home alone- It
was too much. My body sank to the ground and I wrapped my arms around my knees,
trying to figure out what I had done that made God hate me so much.

Paul ignored
every phone call I made over the next few days. He never came to my locker, and
when I finally saw him in the hallway I asked him to meet me after third
period. “Please,” I said, “I just need to see you for a minute.”

I couldn’t
concentrate on the Spanish vocabulary I was supposed to be writing down in my
notebook. I hardly noticed when a student walked in halfway through the period
and Mr. Caruzo had to say my name twice before I noticed he was motioning to
me. “Brooke, you’re needed in the front office.”

The front
office was narrow and blue and I slumped into a seat as I waited. I checked the
clock and as I looked up Adam came walking through the front office doors. My
heart skipped. “Adam? What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.
I was just about to get on the bus for a field trip though. They said they’d
only hold it for ten minutes. Don’t wanna miss it.”

Principal
Hemlorn poked his head through one office door. “Adam, Brooke? Can you guys
follow me?” Light reflected off his bald head and his smile was warm.

We followed him
a few feet before stopping in front of a door. “I have someone here who wants
to talk to you guys. Might take a little time, half hour maybe.” He checked his
watch. “Just see the receptionist when you’re done, she’ll give you a pass.”

“Principal
Hemlorn I have a field trip.” Adam pointed toward the door. “Can this wait? I
already paid and everything.”

He licked his
lips. “I suppose that’s fine. I’ll let them know you already got on the bus.
Brooke, you go ahead in.”

Them? What
is going on…

Adam turned to
catch his bus and the Principal put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right,
go ahead inside Brooke.”

The light was
dim and my eyes had to adjust but when they did I was staring at two police
officers and a lady in a business suit.

“Mrs. Shafer,
this is Brooke Nolan. Her brother already left on a field trip, so you might
have to catch up with him later.”

“Thank you Mr.
Hemlorn. Brooke, would you like to take a seat?”

The door closed
behind me. “My name is Elise, sweetheart, I’m from Children and Youth Services.
Is it okay if we talk for a few minutes?”

I stared at the
bulky police officers standing in the corner of the room. Their arms crossed in
front of their chests and I could hear their uniforms squeak around all the items
they had in their belts. “What did I do?”

“Oh, nothing
dear. It’s okay, you’re not in trouble. Don’t mind these guys.” She waved to
the officers behind her. “They’re just here as a witness to what you and I talk
about, they won’t bother us any. You can call me Elise all right?”

I took a seat
as I noticed the expensive suit Elise had on. She had a pink collared shirt on
underneath and she whisked her bangs away from her face. She couldn’t have been
older than thirty, but there was something old about her face. Maybe she had
been doing this job a long time.

“I’m from
Children and Youth Services, do you know what that is?”

I shook my head
and traced the outlines of her face. She wore a lot of makeup, but I decided
she was pretty. She looked concerned.

“We protect
children from bad situations. Sometimes children need someone to stand up for
them when they’re being hurt, or something bad happens to them, so that’s my
job.”

She had huge
green eyes and I twisted my hands in my lap. Social services sure did respond to
anonymous phone calls in a timely manner.

“I’m here
because my office got a few phone calls about your family. About some things
that go on in your house.”

A few phone
calls? I only called once.

“So I was
hoping we could talk? I have a few questions I was hoping you could help me out
with.”

I remained
silent. My body started to tremble as the reality of what was happening began
to set in.

“Now we don’t
know who made these phone calls. But we do know that one came from the middle
school and elementary schools about your brother, Thomas right? A teacher there
saw some bruises on him and called last week. Then we got another call about
there not being food in the house, about the children there being hit and
yelled at, and some other things.”

I knew what she
was talking about because I had made that phone call. “So tell me, Brooke, what
are your parent’s like. Do any of these things sound true?”

Elise wanted me
to trust her, I knew, but I was terrified. The police officers stared at me,
waiting for a response. I knew that calling social services would lead to this,
I just didn’t realize it would be so soon.

“Brooke, I want
you to know that anything we talk about here today stays between us. You don’t
have to be afraid to tell me anything that goes on in your home. You won’t get
in trouble, okay?”

“We sometimes
don’t have food,” I started. My hands twisted around my shirt. “My dad yells, a
lot, and he hits my brothers.” Elise picked up her pen and started writing.
“We’re all afraid of him. I don’t like him.”

Elise nodded.
“You’re doing great honey, keep going. What kinds of things does he yell about,
where does he hit your brothers?”

“On their
backs, their stomachs, sometimes their face. Sometimes he uses a belt. Or he’ll
throw things. He yells about everything. When we’re too loud, if we leave a
cabinet door open, if we don’t do whatever he wants.”

Elise put down
her pen and looked at me. “What kinds of things does he want Brooke?”

Her voice was
comforting, reassuring. I couldn’t shake the stares from the police officers
though, their eyes bore into me. I was on display.

“Brooke we got
a call that your dad was touching you, inappropriately. Do you know what that
means?”

I shook my
head. This was all happening so fast.

“Has your dad
ever touched you in your private parts? Has he ever made you do something to
him that you didn’t want to do?”

Tears forced
themselves to the surface but I blinked them away. My white flag couldn’t go up
that easily. I didn’t even know what would happen if I told right now.
Something just seemed off, my gut was battling with my head.

“Maybe. I mean,
I don’t know.” My gaze fell into my lap.

“Did you ever
tell anyone that these things were happening to you?”

My stomach
churned. What did I do? If I tell her what’s happening they’ll take us away for
sure, we’ll all be split up. I didn’t have enough time to think about what
would happen when social services finally showed up. There was no game plan, no
escape. I needed an escape.

“I told my
boyfriend’s mom I had a dream my dad touched me,” I said. Sounded like a safe
way to watch her reaction.

“You had a
dream?”

“Yea.” I
shifted my weight.

“So you never
told anyone your father touched you?”

I paused. “No.”
It wasn’t a lie, technically I didn’t.

“And he never
touched you? Never hurt you?”

“No.” I looked
away. Even
I
knew when my face got too red for anyone to believe I was
telling the truth.

Elise wrapped
up the questioning and thanked me before telling me she was going to talk to my
brothers at the other school. I nodded and backed up towards the door. The bell
rang as I raced down the hallway, my heart nearly bouncing out of my chest.

When I saw
Paul, tears were streaming down my cheeks and I wrapped my arms around his
neck. “Brooke, I know us breaking up is hard for you, but-”

“It’s not
that.” I leaned into his ear and told him about what had just happened in the
front office. He pulled away, slowly, staring at me. “Is it true?”

“Paul, I just
need you right now.”

He shifted his
weight and looked down the hallway. “I’m sorry, I gotta go.”

I watched him
turn his back on me for the second time and walk away. My body trembled all
over as I searched for the nearest EXIT sign and pushed through the double
doors, running towards the football field.

***

Two days later
Mom walked into my bedroom with an envelope in her hand. It was a letter from
Children and Youth, explaining that they had investigated an accusation that
Dad had been sexually abusing me and that I, specifically, gave indication they
were dreams but that they wanted to come out to the house to talk to my mom and
dad.

My gut had
saved my life. Not only did Children and Youth promise me what I told them
would be confidential and they lied, but they sent a letter home claiming that
I was the only one who would talk to them out of all of my brothers and sister.
I became the only target. Mom sat on the bed next to me.

“Is this true,
Brooke? Tell me if this is true. I’ll change the locks tonight and he won’t
ever come back.”

My eyes
widened. She believed me?

 “I mean I
don’t know how we’re going to survive, I don’t know how we’ll get money to pay
our bills or eat, but I’ll change the locks. I will. Is this true?”

A promise of
freedom with an extra heavy side of guilt, coming right up
.

I shook my
head. “I don’t know what to say Mom. It’s not true.”

Mom wiped a
tear from her cheek. “Oh, all right, well…” She stood up. “As long as it isn’t
true, I guess there isn’t anything for me to worry about, right?” She smiled.

She showed the
letter to Dad, who wanted to talk to Mom and I in his bedroom after he read it.
“This is very serious, Brooke.” He waved the letter in my face. “If this were
true, we would lose the house, I would lose my job, and you kids would wind up
in foster care. Do you want that?”