Spilled Milk: Based on a true story (32 page)

I looked around
the room. “I was hesitant to come here today, I’ll admit. I asked my husband,
what would it matter that I came in here and exposed myself one more time to
these people. What’ll that change? Well, maybe it won’t change anything, but
maybe it’ll inspire some of you to make changes in what you do. Maybe next time
you’re faced with a young boy or girl and they’re about to turn their lives
upside down and inside out to testify against someone that should have loved
and protected them…” I shook my head. “Maybe you can tell them that it’s okay.
That it’s worth it. And that you’ll help. Thank you.”

The audience
jumped to their feet in applause. The conference room boomed with the sounds of
freedom, and enlightenment. I scanned the room taking in all the men and women
smiling in their suits and hoped, I prayed, that one thing I said made a
difference.

Because if it
did, then I’ll have done what I set out to do.

Gina moved the
probe over my swollen belly and shrieked. “Two little babies in there, that’s
for sure. One for me and one for you right?”

I laughed. “Of
course! Who knows maybe there’s a third one hiding in there somewhere?”

“Hope not.”
Jason looked down at me and smiled. “Besides, you’re already more than four
months I think we’d of seen it by now.”

“Ah everything
looks great, just perfect. Okay, okay.” She squinted at the screen one last
time. “Want to know what they are?”

Jason’s face
twisted into a goofy grin. “Yes, but no.”

 “We want it to
be a surprise,” I said.

Gina’s mouth
dropped open. “So I’m the
only
one who knows? Ah this is perfect, baby
shopping time!” She clicked a few pictures and set down the probe. “Oh I can’t
wait to meet them, the little bambino’s.”

She grabbed a
rag and helped me clean off. “So that means you’ll have to pick out two boy
names
and
two girl names. Just in case.”

“Yea, double
the everything,” I said.

Jason helped me
sit up and he stroked my belly. “Time to go home kids.”

We held hands
as we cruised through town and pulled into our driveway. The due date was set
for Jason’s twenty-fifth birthday and we joked about how easy birthday planning
would be for the next couple of years.

A blue card was
sitting on the table when we walked in. “What’s this?” I asked, reading the
front.

“I think it’s
from your brother. He’s getting out in a month or two isn’t he?”

“Hmm,” I said.
I slid my finger underneath. I pulled out a thick card. ‘Sister’ it said at the
top. I traced the laced inside as I read.

Hey sis,
how’s life? Jail is fine. Actually it sucks and I can say with complete
confidence I am never coming back. I’ve had a lot of time to sit in here, and
think. Truth is, you’re my big sister and I can always go to you with anything.
You’re extremely smart, beautiful, and so funny. You’re gonna make a great Mom
cause your loving, caring, and pretty much would do anything for anyone without
anything in return.

You went
through hell to make sure I was safe growing up and made sure Ethan and the
rest of us would be loved. You’re strong willed and go to the end of world and
back for the people you love. You’re the best sister I could ever want. I miss
you extremely and hope someday I show you how grateful I am for what you did
for me and our family. I don’t know where I’d be without you Brooke, I love
you.

Thomas signed
it with his signature smiley face logo and drew a comical picture of a large
lady holding her belly. An arrow pointed to it that said
You
. I laughed
as I wiped away a tear and stuck the card to the bulletin board in the kitchen.

“He misses you
extremely?” Jason said, raising an eyebrow.

“He barely
graduated high school, give the kid a break.”

Jason cracked
open a beer and pointed to the living room. “I might watch the game, want to
join?”

“Oh sure, drink
a beer in front of the fat lady.”

“You’re not
fat.” He grabbed me by the waist and pressed his lips into mine. “You’re my
beautiful, very pregnant, somewhat chocolate addicted wife.”

I rolled my
eyes and whacked his butt. “You go ahead, I want to write for a little while.”

“All right
baby, don’t work our children too hard, there are labor laws you know.”

Midge had
passed away of pancreatic cancer six months earlier. She would never get to
meet my children but I kept her picture on my work desk and planned to tell
them all about her one day.

One of our last
conversations played in my head as I sat at my computer. I had asked her what
she thought about me going to confront Earl, to finally close that chapter in
my life. I didn’t know what I expected from the conversation we would have but
I did know I wanted him to show some kind of remorse, or to admit to what he
did to my face.

“Child, you
ain’t ever gonna get it,” Midge said. “And if you go there, you still giving
him all the control. He can get up and walk outta that room if he wanted. He’d
make you feel like you the one that did something wrong by coming to see him.”

“Yea, you’re
probably right. He just had no emotion, no reaction when he was sentenced. Like
he had nothing to say.”

“Maybe he
don’t. But I’ll tell you what. You ain’t ever gonna forgive that man, and you
aint ever gonna forget. I know you. You’ll put it behind you and you’ll move
on, that I’m sure of. But I think he needs to know he didn’t ruin your life.
That you out here with a fine husband, job you love, and remind him that he in
there because of what he did to himself, not what you did to him. Best way to
do that is to write a letter. Can’t walk away from a letter, he can’t interrupt
you none and I am sure willing to bet he will read it front to back. So if you
feel the need, you go ahead and write him what you feel.”

It was the last
conversation I had with Midge. A co-worker called to tell me that she had passed,
and that Midge had left me a small amount of money that she wanted me to use to
take some time off of work and write about my experiences so that maybe it
would help someone else. I owed that to Midge. Maybe I owed that to myself.

I powered up my
laptop and waited for the humming to slow before I opened Microsoft Word. My
fingers traced over the keys. I thought about the day I drove to New York when
I told my aunt and uncle what was going on. So much had happened since then. I
had so much to say, and I wasn’t sure how it would end, but I sure did know how
it should start.

Hi Earl,

I bet you’re
wondering why I’m calling you Earl…

K.L Randis, author of Spilled Milk, has had numerous
local publications that brought awareness to domestic violence. She is a
graduate of Pennsylvania State University and an expert in the field of
domestic violence.

In October 2010 she hosted a panel of experts to
discuss domestic, sexual and gang violence and its impact on communities. She
has provided her expertise to local media outlets and she became a spokesperson
to local high school classes on teen dating violence. She was also named
Community
Woman of Distinction
for 2011 by East Stroudsburg University.

She resides in the Poconos with her husband and
daughter. This is her first novel.

Contact
the Author:

[email protected]

www.facebook.com/spilledmilkrandis