K. Randis - Spilled Milk

Let us know, right away, that it’s okay to say the names of body parts. Lie to us, please, and tell us you’ve heard this before. If it’s a girl victim, get a girl cop. If there isn’t one available, tell them that you have talked to lots of little girls about bad things that have happened to them. We need to know our bodies are safe to talk about to a male in a police uniform. Give us a piece of paper and a pencil so we can scribble as we talk to avoid watching your reaction as we walk you through our horrific details, or let us write it down instead if we can’t quite find the words. Also make sure your departments know the laws about fleeing a state with children and Protection from Abuse orders.”

I shuffled my note cards and moved on. “The district attorney’s office. My victim’s advocate was the best thing that happened to me during my trial. I never had to ask what was happening before, during or after anything. And everything was explained to me in a way I could understand. Tour the courtroom before the hearing, and tell the child that it’s okay to show emotion and who they can look at when they’re sitting on the witness stand.

I was shy, and I couldn’t bring myself to say the words penis or rape, but let us know that those words are expected and we won’t get in trouble for saying them. My advocate also signed me up to receive alerts to when my dad was transferred to a different jail or anything changed in his status. It’s a relief to know where he is at all times.”

I looked around. “How many mental health or social service type agencies do we have in here?” A few people raised their hands. “Okay, this is for you, and for the schools. Confidentiality is everything. I had kids come up to me in school and apologize for what happened to me because they had mothers in the front office who knew all about it. That’s unacceptable. Counseling is what made the difference in how I coped with the trial both during and after. I am the only one of my siblings who sought help, and I am also the only one who doesn’t still live at home and actually has a healthy relationship.

My mom and siblings refused counseling after a few sessions, they didn’t want it. But then they wonder why they have so much tension and anger in their lives. They wonder why they have nervous breakdowns and call me in the middle of the night with the latest drama.

Programs need to be established, and required, to all of the families of these crimes. Just because I was the one testifying does not mean that I am the only one who needed help. I know my triggers, and what upsets me and now I know how to handle those things. My siblings are depressed, and go in and out of promiscuous or unhealthy relationships. They abuse drugs or alcohol and turn to food for comfort. Sometimes I felt like I sacrificed two years of testimony for nothing. My dad was out of the house and they still did all the same things, still treated each other horribly. They didn’t want to deal with it, and they haven’t. For years since I first came forward, I felt like the black sheep in my family. I don’t want to believe I set my expectations too high when it comes to having a happy life. Which leads me to my conclusion, you cannot change someone who does not want to change.”

I held up a finger. I needed this point to stick. “If a child does not want to tell, they won’t. If a family does not want to heal, they won’t. I wanted to heal, I wanted peace in my life and I wanted to tell. So I did. I thought my family would want the same, and it kills me that they have such great potential to thrive as a family and don’t. I lost a lot of sleep over that. I cried a lot over that. But at the end of the day, the only person I can make changes to is myself. No matter how much I tell them how liberating it feels to finally be as happy as I am.”

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.”