Spilled Milk: Based on a true story

by Randis, K. L

  A gun was in my face before I knew what was happening. “This gun says they’re free, give it here,” he shouted. He reached outside the window and grabbed the pill bag.

  I was on the ground as Judd pushed me aside. The wind was knocked out of me and I heard tires screeching away while Judd leaned halfway in the car punching the guy in the face.

  “Judd! NO!” I screamed.

  He let go of the car and rolled onto the ground as the car screamed around the corner and off into the distance. I ran to him.

  “Oh my God, Judd, are you okay? Are you okay?”

  “Stop screaming, I’m okay, I’m okay. Are YOU okay? Who are they to point a gun in your face. Oh this isn’t over, oh man this isn’t over.”

  My hands trembled as we rushed over to our bikes and hopped on. “Brooke, go home, I know where that guy lives.”

  “No, Judd. No I’m going with you.”

  “Go HOME Brooke.” Judd pointed.

  “NO! I’m coming with you.”

  He sped off and I followed behind him. The temperature dipped as we pedaled with rampant intensity. I thanked Coach for all the hours of running and jump rope, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with Judd whose adrenaline was taking over.

  We must have pedaled for over twenty miles before we laid our bikes down in some bushes outside a trailer home.

  “His car isn’t here. That guy thinks he’s just gonna get away with that. Watch this.”

  Judd strutted to the front door and I trailed him watching out for the black car. Several hard pounds on the door coaxed an overweight woman in a bathrobe to appear. At first she looked like she was going to call the police, then she spotted me. “What’s this about? Do you know what time it is?”

  “Do you know what your son just did? He stuck a gun in my girl’s face.”

  His girl?

  The woman’s mouth opened and she brought her hand to her face. “What? My James?”

  “Yea, your James.” Judd squeezed his hands to control himself.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He wanted some Oxy’s, drugs, and he didn’t want to pay for them. You tell him we’ll be looking for him. He stuck a gun in my girl’s face and fled. I’ll be looking for him, tell him that.”

  “Oh, oh my.” The look on the woman’s face told me she had no idea her son did drugs. I felt bad for her.

  “Oh honey,” she turned to me, “I’m so sorry.”

  I stared at her.

  “I’ll make it right. Here, I’ll make it right.” She fumbled the pocketbook sitting in the foyer next to her.

  “No, no it’s all right,” I said.

  Tears ran down the mother’s face as she pried open her wallet.

  “Really, it’s okay. Tell him to never call us again.” I took Judd’s hand and led him away from the house.

  “Why’d you do that?” Judd pushed out his chest and scanned the neighborhood for the black car. “I’m gonna…”

  “Do nothing.” I finished his sentence. “You’re gonna do nothing because we’re better than that. Come on.”

  When we reached my house the adrenaline had worn off and we had to walk the bikes up the driveway. I pushed the front door open and Mom was standing in the living room. “What happened?” She hissed. It was after midnight. “I’ve been sitting here waiting.”

  Judd told her what happened as I hid my face behind him. I was disappointed that I wasn’t able to hold onto the pills as the car sped away. When Judd finished Mom just looked at me.

  “You let him get away with my pills? You got nothing? Not one cent?”

  She threw her hands up and walked into the kitchen. “Jesus, Brooke. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I don’t get another refill for another two weeks. I needed that money.”

  Judd raised an eyebrow at her reaction. Mom didn’t mention the gun that had been thrown in my face. “I’m gonna go,” he whispered. I nodded.

  He snuck out the front door and I watched him cruise down the driveway.

  “It won’t happen again, Mom. I’m sorry.”

  She tapped her foot and looked at the now empty pill bottle in front of her. “It better not, Brooke. If you want to make sure you guys have food to eat, it better not.”

  Chapter Ten

  Paul and I started walking to his house to hang out every day after school. It was convenient that he lived so close to where I worked because we could hang out for an hour before I started my shift and I could spend time with Paul without having to tell my parents.

  “So what time does your little brother’s bus come?” I poured a glass of orange juice and sat down on the oversized sofa in the living room. Paul’s mom just accepted a job as an ultrasound technician and needed Paul to get his little brother off the bus in the afternoon.

  “Around 4:15. You don’t have to go to work until five right?” He plopped down next to me hooking our elbows together. The familiar scent of his skin soaked through my veins as I let his arm melt into mine.

  “Maybe,” I smiled.

  He set my juice down and grabbed both my sides, tickling me until I begged him to stop. Satisfied that he had won the tickle war he pulled me closer to him, wrapping his arms around my waist.

  “Go out with me.” His eyes softened when he was serious. I knew the question had been burning in the back of his head ever since I turned him down at the fair. Curled up on his couch I watched him fidget with a pillow as he waited for an answer. Outside the living room window leaves started to drift to the ground.

  “Brooke?” He looked so vulnerable.

  I cradled his face in my hands and pulled him closer. I kissed him, lingering on his bottom lip, and pulled away before he could return the favor. “Okay.” I nodded. “I’ll go out with you.”

  To mask the overwhelming smile that spread across his face he hid his face in my hair.

  “One condition,” I said, holding up a finger, “I don’t want to lose you as a friend. If we ever break up, promise me we’ll still be friends.”

  He nodded immediately. “We won’t have to worry about that, because I’m never letting you go.”

  “Smooth,” I said and rolled my eyes. “But promise me.”

  He motioned an X over his heart and lowered his eyes to mine. “Promise.”

  “Just one more thing.”

  “Ugh, what now?”

  “Go get your brother. We’re late.”

  Paul jumped off the couch and I grabbed my coat as we bolted out the front door. The bus had just come to a stop as we reached the corner. Red signs flashed as the double doors opened to let the kids off and Joseph hopped off the bus and shrugged his Spongebob book bag onto his shoulders. “Hi Paulie!”

  “I need to go to work, I’ll call you later?” I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and floated towards the center of town.

  “Ew, gross.” Joseph crinkled his nose. “I’m telling mom.”

  “No you’re not. Go on, get inside.” Paul winked at me and put his hand on Joseph’s shoulder and led him toward the house.

  Joseph did tell Gina that he had seen me kiss Paul on the cheek when he got off the bus. After work that night Paul called to ask me to come to dinner to their house so I could meet his dad.

  “Sorry.” Paul apologized. “My mom’s all excited that I have a girlfriend and I think she just wants to get to know you. And my dad’s never met you.”

  “It’s fine. I’d love to come over.”

  Instead of asking for permission from Mom, I just called off work the next afternoon and planned to have Gina drive me home around the time I would usually get home from work.

  “Maybe Brooke will play with me since you don’t,” Joseph teased, poking his head into Paul’s room for the hundredth time that night.

  “Mooooooooom. Get Joe out please!”

  Joseph disappeared and raced across the hall to his bedroom, yelling as he ran. “I’m not even in there Mom, I’m right here in my own room.”

  I could hear Gina’s fo
otsteps waltz down the hallway. “Joe, leave them alone.” She pressed the bedroom door open and peered in on us lounging on the bed watching TV. “And this door stays open you two. That means more than a crack.” She winked at me but her eyes were serious.

  “Come on, Ma.” Paul buried his face into his pillow.

  “Dinner in five.” She turned on her heel and headed back towards the kitchen.

  “Your mom’s cooking smells amazing.”

  “I bet it does, your stomachs been growling for the past two hours.”

  I nudged him and he nudged me back. Paul flipped on top of me and moved his lips across mine as I laughed into his kiss.

  “Oooooh.” Joseph’s voice carried through the room.

  Paul looked behind him. “Joe I thought I told you to-”

  “Kids! Dinner, come eat.”

  As if on cue, Lou walked through the front door and set his briefcase down in the foyer. “Where’s my beautiful wife?” He scanned the kitchen and watched her set some plates down. “Ah, there she is, there’s my girl.” Before doing anything else, he crossed the room and draped her in several kisses on her cheeks and lips. “How are you darling?”

  “Dad, geeze, really?” Paul sat down and pulled the chair out next to him, motioning for me to sit down next to him. I did and watched the romantic comedy unfold before me.

  There was pasta with vodka sauce, sausage and salad. Warm bread baked fresh hours before was nestled in the middle of the table and Gina filled Lou’s wine glass for the second time. I introduced myself between bites of macaroni and bread. Lou seemed impressed that I had a job and was enrolled in all honors classes.

  “That’s really great, really something. Good for you.” His grin was ear to ear as he ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. Gina admired him and blotted the red lipstick she put on seconds before Lou had walked through the door.

  Joseph talked about the art project he made at school that day and everyone listened, laughed and ate. Paul sipped his water and glimpsed at me for signs that I was going to run screaming from the table. I never floundered.

  I observed in awe. His parent’s genuine concern, their knowledgeable advice and humor caught me by surprise. The dinner table was warm and inviting. Something sparked in my chest. A profound and dragging realization crossed my mind as I finished seconds of macaroni and thirds of the salad. The family I had at home was not normal.

  The kissing, loving and caring families you saw on TV or read about in novels were not fake. They were right here, in this kitchen, laughing with each other and loving every second of finding out what each other’s day was like. They ate pasta, and made fart jokes, and hated their jobs just like everyone else. They were real.

  It wasn’t in my head that something was unusual about my family; somehow I knew something wasn’t right, but I could never put my finger on it. No one ever told me that what I had at home was not normal. Now, no one had to. I was witnessing it with my own eyes. I was hearing it, watching it, tasting it and loving it.

  Joseph reached across the table to grab the parmesan cheese and on instinct I panicked to grab the glass of milk he spilled over. I thought about what happens when a glass is spilled at our dinner table, and I couldn’t watch that happen to Joseph.

  “Joseph, come with me, we’ll go in your room.” My voice rose in panic. I couldn’t watch Lou hit him, or shove him into a wall. I didn’t want to hear the glass smash across the kitchen floor with threats to have it cleaned up or else. I grabbed Joseph by the hand. “Let’s go.”

  The table was staring at me. Gina, eyes wide, ascended from her seat and grabbed the closest napkin. Lou put his hand out in a welcoming and cautious movement. “It’s okay, Brooke. Really, it’s all right hun. It’s just a little spilled milk.”

  I waited for the rage to start, the yelling and the chair throwing. Lou grabbed a few more napkins and mopped up the white puddle underneath Joseph’s chair. “There we go, all better. You want some more milk little man?”

  Joseph nodded with an eager smile.

  “All right, here ya go. Leave the milk in the glass this time okay?” Gina let out a nervous chuckle as she watched me make my way back to my seat.

  Sweat masked my face from the adrenaline that had no outlet and I started to push the food around on my plate.

  Gina noticed. “Paul, you and Brooke look finished, why don’t you two go hang out for a while before I have to take her home?”

  Paul nodded and took my hand as we made our way down the hallway. “Wait,” I said. I turned around and headed back towards the dinner table.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry that I-you know, I just thought-” I was so used to apologizing. I felt I had to, I just wasn’t sure what for.

  “No, honey, it’s okay. Everything’s fine.” The corners of her mouth turned upward. “Go be with Paul, everyone’s fine here.”

  I moved towards the living room to catch up with Paul. “Can we go outside for a minute?” My heart raced underneath my hoodie and I needed to breathe a minute. “Just need some fresh air.”

  “Yea, sure. Let’s go.”

  We walked in silence for two blocks as I tried to process what had happened. There was the glass, the spilled milk. His father didn’t yell, or hit anything or throw anything. The reaction that I had anticipated never came, and it left me standing at my chair in flight mode without a reason. I turned my head away from Paul and he must have noticed.

  “Brooke, it was just a glass of milk. You know? No reason to get upset.”

  I nodded but he didn’t understand. How could I not get upset? Everything I had ever known was a lie. Dad’s don’t react like wild beasts in every house. Mom’s don’t ask questions while waiting for answers that would only benefit them. It was a world I didn’t know, and I didn’t understand.

  I recalled when I tried to run away with my sister to my Grandma’s house. Even then I didn’t have a real reason, it was like I knew something was wrong, but until that very moment in Paul’s house I could never put my finger on it. Now I knew. Families aren’t all perfect, but they sure don’t measure up to the fear and manipulation that steered our household. They can be safe places. I couldn’t believe it.

  “Did you hear a thing I just said?” Paul stopped and stepped out in front of me. I was so wrapped up I didn’t realize he had been talking.

  “Yes.” I lied.

  “Then what’d I say?”

  I looked down. “I know, the milk was an accident. Sorry I overreacted.”

  “The milk?” Paul looked lost. “I was asking you if you thought we could see each other tomorrow after school. What’s going on?”

  My face was on fire. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Paul crossed his arms over his chest. He was so handsome, so normal. I didn’t deserve him.

  “Kids, I need to get Brooke home.” Gina was standing in the doorway, yelling down the block.

  “We need to go.” I grabbed Paul’s hand and steered him towards his house. His loving, safe, milk spilling house.

  About a month later I called Gina from the school nurse. When I told her I felt sick she didn’t skip a beat to tell me she’d be at the school in ten minutes to pick me up. I felt bad calling her at work, but I couldn’t stay in school. I barely made it through the first ten minutes of homeroom before I asked for a pass to the nurse.

  Dad took full advantage of Mom being in New York since she had a consultation for her back. Gina didn’t ask questions as she signed me out, but she glanced at me over and over as we made our way into the parking lot to get into her minivan.

  “I can tell you don’t feel good honey. You look like Paul wearing those sweatpants and sweatshirt like that.” She tried to get me to smile, but I pulled the hood closer around my head.

  “Yea.” I shifted my weight. It hurt to move.

  “I’m surprised they let me just sign you out like that. I thought only parents could do that.”

  My turn to smile. “I put your name down
as an emergency contact before I handed the sheet in to my homeroom teacher.”

  She nodded, eyebrows raised. “Oh. Yea, well, that will do it.”

  We rounded the corner of her block and I concentrated on the click-click-click of her turn signal.

  I left my book bag in the car and inched my way to the front door. Gina followed me inside and when I got to the top of the stairs I turned around and caught her staring at me.

  “Brooke, you’re moving very…” she trailed off. “Maybe we should call your mom?”

  I closed my eyes. Talking was taking all the strength out of me. “No. Please. I know Paulie is going to a friend’s house after school today. Is it okay if I just sleep here for a while?” Familiar pain rose in my stomach. I had to lay down.

  Gina bit her lip. I took comfort in how much Paul looked like her. “Sure, sure. Go ahead and sleep. Close the door if you want so you don’t hear me out here. I’ll just be cooking so call if you need me.”

  It was around eight in the morning when I finally settled under Paul’s covers and drifted off to sleep. I drifted in and out of a deep slumber over the next few hours. Around five in the evening I woke up when the bedroom door creaked open.

  “Nah honey,” I heard Lou say, “She’s still sleeping.” The door closed behind him and I fell back into a deep sleep until eight, when I felt a warm body lay next to me.

  Paul.

  He stroked my face and placed a hand on my forehead in the dark. “She’s still sleeping?” Gina whispered. “Maybe we should wake her up to eat something?” She sounded concerned.

  Paul shifted his weight off the bed and I heard him back out of the bedroom. “She’s okay Ma, just let her sleep.” I drifted again.

  Banging echoed down the hallway and I jumped awake.

  Gina hissed through her teeth “Who is that? Paul get the door. It’s ten o’clock at night.”

  I heard the front door open and some confused conversation between Gina and Lou. Then a familiar voice filled the room. “Where’s Brooke? She was supposed to be home an hour ago.”

  Dad.

  I sprang out of the bed half asleep. I grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms from Paul’s top drawer and pulled them over my sweatpants. My hands shook as I combed them through my hair to pull the mess into a somewhat polished ponytail and I took a huge gulp of air before I opened the bedroom door.