K. Randis - Spilled Milk

The nightmares became more bearable as I learned to explain them to Jason. I was also getting better at identifying what triggered me to have flashbacks or memories of Earl. Most of the time, a lot of the time, it was the people I surrounded myself by that reminded me of a life I wanted to forget. Those people trickled out of our lives.

The nightmares came in waves. Jason would shake me from my sleep as I clawed at him drenched in sweat. Other times I would mumble, or scream, or hysterically cry until I woke myself up. When I would have those rare nights of deep uninterrupted slumber, Jason would get anxious and wake me up just to make sure I was still breathing.

“You got permission to take twenty four credits a semester?” Jason raised an eyebrow. “You’re also starting an internship and you work. Are you trying to get away? Is it me?” He lifted up his arm. “I must smell.”

“Nooo. Full time is twelve credits, so I mean, I’m only doubling the recommended course load. Besides, psychology isn’t exactly hard it’s just time consuming. A lot of papers. Very interesting though.”

“You seem happy about it.”

“I am happy about it.”

I interned at a facility called Children’s Hope and Promise, or CHAP. It was an alternative school and boarding facility for children who had severe emotional disturbances and behavioral issues.

They paid me for the length of my internship, which was unheard of, and they even offered me a job for when I graduated. Tackling my piled down course load allowed me to graduate an entire semester early, which was perfect timing, because Jason and I found out I was pregnant.

When I had the miscarriage, it was two days before graduation. The picture of the pregnancy test we had taken nine weeks earlier was still the background picture on my phone. We told most of our family at that point, and our closest friends. “Looks like I’m the one getting a graduation present,” Jason had teased. He kissed my belly and told me that as soon as I graduated, we would start planning a wedding.

I literally peed every two hours in those first few weeks. So when Jason woke me up in the middle of the night thinking I had wet the bed, he was not expecting what he found. When he turned on the light and saw I was soaked in blood, he carried me down the stairs and floored it to the hospital. No ambulance would have traveled faster than he did that night.

I didn’t remember much from graduation, I wasn’t even going to go. After getting the okay from the doctor, Jason insisted. “You’ve worked too hard, and sacrificed too much to not go. You owe it to yourself.”

So I walked with my graduating class. Painfully, slowly. No one there would have skipped a beat looking at my graduation pictures. I smiled and went through the motions, shook hands with my professors and then disappeared into a cloud of mourning for the next two months. With no classes, and since I didn’t technically accept the job offer from CHAP, I had ample time to sit around and think.

So that’s exactly what I did.

After gaining fifteen pounds and wearing out my bathrobe to the stitching, I called around and applied to a job in the town where my mom lived. Jason was ecstatic we were moving back. I just needed a change. I needed to get out of that apartment and start over.

So we did.

I pulled up to the familiar house with the white sign on the front lawn and put the car in park. Taking my time I gathered my things and headed inside. The same ceiling high posters still littered the walls, it still smelled the same. There was a receptionist I didn’t recognize sitting behind the counter in the lobby. “Hi there, can I help you?”

I smoothed my suit jacket and nodded. “I’m Brooke Nolan, I have an interview with Anne for the Community Advocate position.”

“Oh very good, I’ll let her know you’re here. Have a seat.” She pointed into the waiting room and picked up the phone.

I sat in the same chair I did almost eight years ago. A jumbled up puzzle and some coloring books were scattered on the floor. I wondered how many children have passed through that waiting room. How many children told? How many of them went on to lead prosperous and fulfilling lives despite what happened to them?

A woman with glimmering dental work rounded the corner and stuck out her hand. “Brooke? I’m Anne, so glad you’re here. Come, follow me back to my office.”

I tailed behind her, catching a glimpse of her pin striped suit and stocky pumps. Her silver hair was pinned in a bun at the top of her head and she smoothed a wrinkle across her forehead as she sat down. “Whew, I am swamped. Sorry for the wait. So you’re thee Brooke Nolan huh?”

I laughed. “Well I guess it depends on what you’ve heard.”

“Nothing but great things, don’t you worry.” She stirred a spoon into the sides of a cup on her desk. “Midge certainly had nothing but great things to say about you.”

I blushed. “Good to know.”

“So there are quite a few people applying for this position. You understand what a Community Advocate is?”

“Yea, someone who educates the public about domestic and sexual violence through community events. I would be mainly targeting youth right?”

“Yea, you got it. We really want to push towards a more modern approach for getting youth’s attention. They’re into the technologies and computers and honestly I don’t know much about it.” Anne raised her eyebrows. “Old lady like me needs to know when to take a step back and let the younger generation step up.”

“Yea, we can be complicated.”

“I have over fifty applicants.” She patted a stack of papers next to her. “Why you? Why are you the best for the job?”

When I applied to the job ad Midge sent me for the Women in Crisis center it stated that personal experience was respected. I knew Midge had probably filled Anne in on the majority of what my life was like, and if she didn’t, all Anne had to do was pull my file from when I was a child receiving services there with Midge as my counselor.

“I think it takes a certain personality talk about topics like domestic violence and sexual assault in the limelight. I’ve been there, I’ve seen it firsthand. But I’ve also grown from it, came out above it I guess you could say.”

“Yes, it is important, the way we overcome,” Anne said, scribbling on a pad in front of her.

“I don’t want to educate youth after the fact. I want to exemplify an understanding in our community about these topics from as young an age as possible. I want to teach prevention, so they know the signs and what to do about it before it affects their lives. They need to know their options.”

“I see.” She put her pen down. “So as a victim, you think you have what it takes to get into these kids heads?”

I smiled. “No ma’m, as a survivor I have what it takes.”

Gina met me after my interview so we could catch up. “I’m so glad you moved back, we can do tea now, I can see you more.”

“I know. I hope I get this job though.”

“You’ll get it. They’d be crazy not to hire you. That your phone?”

“Yea, one second,” I said. The number didn’t register a name on my cell phone.

“Brooke? This is Anne. Have a second?”

“Oh sure, sure. Go ahead.” Gina squinted her eyes at me.

“Well, it didn’t take much deliberation, and we’d like to have you join our team as Community Advocate, if you’ll take us.”

I gasped. “No kidding. It’s only been a little over an hour.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh, yes. Yes I’d love to. Thank you!”

“Great. I know you said you can start as soon as possible so if you want to come on in Monday, we’ll get you set up. See you then.”