Spilled Milk: Based on a true story (28 page)

“What’s going
on?” I looked at Jason who had picked up one of the envelopes on the corner of
the table.

He turned it
over in his hand. “They used labels to show who it’s going to, no return
sender, stamped from a postal office in Jersey?” He slid his finger under the
sealed encasement and read the sheet of paper that was inside. He frowned and I
walked over to him, reading over his shoulder.

Brooke
denies that she ever told anyone that her father sexually abused her. She
denies that the allegations are true and states that he never touched her/sexually
abused her.

She tells me
that her dream was during this past summer and she dreamt about a time when she
was laying on her father’s bed and her father was asleep on the bed as well.

She tells me
that she told her boyfriend’s mother – Gina – about this dream a month or so
ago. Brooke continued to deny allegations and denies that anyone – never mind
her father have ever sexually abused her.

Safety has
been assessed; Brooke appears safe at this time. Sexual assault has been
unsubstantiated.

“Is this the
interview social services did with me at the school? How did anyone get this?”
I grabbed at the white envelopes sitting on the counter. “Who else got them?”

“Everyone.” Mom
flung her hands up in the air. “Aunt Jean, your cousins, grandparents…”

“They sent this
to Grandma and Grandpa?” I screamed.

 The sole page
from the interview social services conducted made it seem like Earl’s
conviction was a hoax. It was completely out of context with no explanation of
why I had initially come forward blaming the abuse on dreams. Except for the
core family members who were subpoenaed to court, I didn’t tell anyone about
all the details. Jason still didn’t know about all the details. No one knew
that I told social services they were dreams at first, we had established in
court why. Now, I had over twenty people in my family opening their mail that
morning to a letter they never should have seen.

I was
mortified. “Who sent this? How can we find out who sent this?”

“I don’t think
we can, baby,” said Jason.

There was
nothing but a single addressed label on the front and a stamp postmarked with
the date. The location of the post office read Kilmer, NJ. Jason was right.
Someone made it a point to make sure these letters didn’t get traced back to
whoever sent them.

“Mom, how am I
supposed to explain this to everyone?”

“I don’t know,
maybe we can start calling everyone and…”

“No,” Jason’s
voiced boomed, “You’re not calling anyone.”

His outburst
startled me. “What do you mean Jason? I have to-”

“If anyone in
your family is going to question whether or not this really happened based on
some shady attempt at blackmailing you then you don’t owe them any
explanations. It’s not your place to have to explain to every family member
every detail of what happened. They know what happened, and if they don’t
believe you because of some letter then screw them.”

I put my hand
on his back as he turned away and ran his hand through his hair. “I mean what
kind of sick bastard is
still
trying to control the situation from the
other side of a damn prison wall?”

I’d never seen
him upset like that, but he was right. I shouldn’t have to give explanations.
Not to them, not to anyone. The details of what happened to me were already
exposed in abundance throughout the last two years. Those people I never had to
see again. I didn’t need to re-traumatize myself by calling everyone in my
family on top of it.

“He worked in
Jersey,” Mom said. She eyed Jason as he settled down. “He must have sent the
letter to a buddy he worked with, had them send it out so it wouldn’t get back
to him.”

 “Maybe, but
Jason’s right. He just wants to prove he’s still in control. I still want to
call grandma and grandpa though. I can’t stand them thinking I lied about
anything.”

The phone rang
twice as I twirled my hair around my index finger. The front porch gave my some
privacy while I made the call. When Grandpa picked up, I asked him if he had
gotten any strange mail with information about me in it.

“Oh uh, yea. We
got that.” I opened my mouth to start talking and was cut off. “Don’t worry, I
um, threw it out. Didn’t need your grandma reading that garbage.”

“Thanks
Grandpa.”

Jason smiled at
look on my face as I hung up.

“He didn’t buy
any of that, did he?”

“No, he
didn’t.”

The front door
flung open and Adam waved a newspaper in my face. “What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s okay
Adam-”

“It’s okay?
It’s NOT okay!” He shouted.

“No it’s fine,
I already saw-”

“Yea, you and
the whole town saw. Or read. Or whatever.” The newspaper hit the ground with a
loud thwack as he looked up at me. “I’m tired of this, tired of being talked
about and having our business in the paper all the time, all the damn time.”

“Stop yelling, Adam
who’s talking about you?”

“Everyone! Not
everyone is straight A superstar Miss Popular like you. We all didn’t have
friends that would back us up about this, I had to listen to the names and the
rumors about you and our family. People are sick, they’re twisted.”

“People
are
sick,
you can’t let it get to you though. Come on, you really think people didn’t say
things to me?”

“I don’t care.
It doesn’t matter anymore.” He turned on his heel and headed for the front door
as I looked at Jason who appeared just as confused as I was.

“And you know
what?” He stopped at the door, a shaking hand on the knob. “You always got what
you wanted. You were always the favorite. I’m
glad
that stuff happened
to you. You deserved to have your perfect life flipped upside down for once.”

“Hey!” Jason
lunged after Adam as he disappeared inside. “Don’t you dare say that-”

“Jason, stop!”
He skidded to a halt in my grip.

“Are you
kidding me? Did you hear what he just said?”

“Yea, I heard.”

“You’re gonna
let him get away with that?”

“He’s hurting
Jason. Just leave him.”

I pinched the
bridge of my nose and sank into the porch swing.

“We’re all
hurting.”

***

Heather was enraged
when I told her about the letters. “How did he, I mean where...” She grunted
into the phone. “All right look, can you bring me one of those letters? I’m getting
to the bottom of this.”

“Yea I can but
Heather, you don’t need to. I know you’re probably swamped. I just wanted to
let you guys know about it.”

“Nonsense.
Bring me a letter or two.”

When I hung up
Jason was sprawled across the couch in his boxers flipping through channels.
“Can we just
try
and pretend we’re normal for one weekend? Maybe
barricade the doors shut or something?”

“You wanna do
that to keep other people out or me in here?” I teased.

“Both.” He
grabbed my wrist and dragged me onto him, kissing my neck.

“Yea that’s
what I thought,” I said, laughing. “Okay so here’s some normal life for ya.
What bills are we going to pay next week, because we sure don’t have the money
to pay all of them.”

He dragged a
hand across his face. “Ugh, okay well rent is paid, groceries are done?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. I guess
pay the cell phone, we need to communicate with the outside world somehow.”

“So no electric?”

“They can’t
shut it off anyway. Winter time laws, remember?”

“Yea.” I melted
off of him and onto the cushion to his right. “Have you thought about what we
talked about?”

He raised an
eyebrow. “Not much to think about. You have a stripper college friend who’s
recruiting more stripper college friends and you think it’d be a good idea.”

“The
money
would be a good idea. And not stripper, really, dancer. We’re not allowed to be
naked since they serve alcohol in the club.”

“Right.
Dancer.”

“Your sarcasm
is noted.”

“Really it’s up
to you.” He leaned forward and put his chin in his hands. “Your body, your
call. If you think it’ll be worth it, you know I’ll support you.”

“I don’t think
we have a choice.” I pointed to the stack of bills piled across the room. “You
can’t do more than the seventy hours a week you already work. I can’t work more
than thirty with my full course load. My mom needs two hundred dollars, and-”

“Can you
explain to me, again,” he said, touching the side of his head, “Why we can’t
even pay our own bills, but you’re paying your moms?”

“She needs it.
It’s my fault he’s not there anymore.”

I went to get
up off the couch and Jason reached up and pulled me back down. “Come here, I
didn’t mean it like that. I just, ugh I wish you didn’t have such a big heart
sometimes.”

He play tackled
me to the ground when I stuck my tongue out at him.

It turns out I
wasn’t the only one giving my mom money every month. My aunts and uncles had
pooled together to ensure most of her bills were covered. After a short while
life kicked in and their own families, understandably, became their priorities.
Mom started to look for money in other places, namely my brothers and sister.

Since I was the
only one who had moved out of the house, she started charging them a hundred
dollars a week rent. I was also the only one putting myself through college,
and their retail and manual labor jobs only went so far. I started working at
Twisters as a dancer to make up the money mom fell short on.

I was terrified
the first night I walked into the dressing room. A lot of the girls walked
around naked as they changed their outfits and I immediately noticed I was the
youngest one there. “You got I.D?” A red haired scrawny woman with a mole on
her left cheek eyed me up and down. “I need I.D before you can start.”

It was simple
enough. Get up on the stage, dance around, walk through the lounge and talk to
the guys there between dances. Some guy paid me fifty dollars to talk to him,
and only him, for a half hour. Another guy gave me a twenty to sit and have a
drink with him. I always bought an energy drink to hide the fact I couldn’t
drink yet.

The back room
is where I made bank almost every time. Every guy had a story. Divorcee, mid
life crisis, bachelor party, hates his life, bored. The back room was a rounded
purple dome room with submissive lighting that bounced off plush couches that
lined the wall. Mirrors were everywhere you looked. A beefy security guard
stood at the doorway to protect the hands-off policy.

The first time
I saw the room was because a guy paid me a hundred dollars just to go back
there because I was insisting I didn’t want to. I didn’t know a thing about lap
dances, and no one in there looked like they wanted to teach me. The guy was
young, maybe late twenties, clean cut and I liked his cologne. He had come in
with two other guys his age and they were floating money around to all the
girls like it was candy.

I straddled him
and rocked my hips at first, pushing off of the couch. I stood up and awkwardly
asked him what he thought I should do.

“Jesus, you’ve
really never done this before?”

I shook my head
and he patted the couch next to him. “Me either. My buddies are regulars but I
appreciate my money too much to throw it away. No offense. Sit, talk with me.”

“None taken.”

“So uh, your
eyes are pretty clear.” He studied my face. “Your body is way too hot to have
had any children and you look like you’re about to cry when guys call you over.
What’s the deal?”

The body guard
gave me a confused look as the time this guy paid for ticked away.

“College. Need
the money.”

“Ah, I see.” He
sipped his Corona. “You don’t belong here.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t
belong in here. You seem different.”

“You’re telling
me? But the money’s good.”

“How good?”

“Almost four
hundred a night.”

“Four hundred a
night?”

“Five now that
I got you back here.”

We laughed and
the guard pointed to a neon clock above the door. “Time’s up pal.”

“Ah yea well,”
he said, standing up. “Money well spent. I’ll see you again…” He trailed his
voice, inviting me to tell him my name.

“Brooke.”

“What’s your
real name?”

“Brooke.”

“You don’t use
a stage name?”

“I think I
would just get confused when they called my name to dance.” I shrugged. “Seems
easier to use a name I actually respond to.”

He had a great
smile. “Unbelievable. Well, nice to meet you Brooke.”

Two weeks later
I unloaded my sack of cash onto the bed when I woke Jason up after my shift.
“Jesus,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “You rob the place?”

“Kinda. The
other girl’s don’t really like me.”

“I can see why.
What time is it?”

“Three.”

“Have any
friendly back room chats?”

“Clearly,” I
said, pointing. “You wouldn’t believe how many guys are desperate just to have
someone to talk to. Can you believe I’ve never done a lap dance, not one.”

“They want to
take you into the back room and talk?”

“Yea. It’s
weird. They all say the same things too, I don’t belong there, I should quit. Maybe
they think I’ll run off with them if they be gentlemen,” I said. “They all just
want me to listen to them. Their lives kinda suck.”

“Mine doesn’t.”
Jason rolled me into bed on top of him. “I have a hot stripper girlfriend who
comes home and saves all her energy for me.”

The environment
was wearing on me though. Guys weren’t always poster perfect. A lot of them
were older, or had hygiene issues. I once sat and talked to a guy who told me
it was his last night of freedom before he went to jail.