Page 72 of Whatever Will Be

“Hello. It’s me, Julianne Aaronson, but I know that because this is my phone and I’m the one recording. Haha. Sorry, that sounds weird. I’m nervous. It’s June thirteenth. I’m at Cassini Brewery and I wasn’t planning to come here but it looks like there’s a party and I see his car. I need to talk to him. I’ve left him voicemails but he never calls back. I’ve gone to his house but his fiancé was there and I chickened out. So here I am. Twelve weeks pregnant. I’m going to tell the father whether he wants to hear it or not. You’re coming along for the ride so buckle up.”

My hands shake as I lower the phone after making sure it will continue to record.

He won’t think it’s odd that I’m carrying a phone. People are always carrying their phones in plain sight. Phones are like arms now for crying out loud.

I’m still wearing my pink work scrubs after a long day at the clinic but that can’t be helped. I’m not going home to change.

The lights are blazing at Cassini Brewery and there must be thirty cars in the parking lot. The last time I was here, the only time I’ve ever been here, was a night when the bar was open to the public but tonight it isn’t. Tonight the brewery is closed for a private party. However, I can see Liam’s red Porsche and I owe him the truth, no matter how inconvenient it might be.

Three men are standing outside by the entrance. They all share the same look of arrogant good fortune. My father would assume they are summer people but he assumes that about everyone he doesn’t like. At least he doesn’t need to worry about summer people in prison.

The men hold cigars and I watch as they check me out, become disinterested, and puff away as they share private laughter.

I don’t care.

I’m not here to look interesting.

There’s a Kanye West song playing inside but the volume is not too loud. I can hardly hear it until I step inside. Once I am inside I see that the music is coming from the direction of the bar where two women dance in stiletto heels atop the polished surface. There are men scattered everywhere, all of them cut from the same mold as the cigar smokers outside. Some of them hoot at the dancing women, others look at their phones or continue having animated conversations. The only females here besides me are the ones dancing on the bar. The girl on the left unhooks her bra. Men howl like wolves in response.

“Julianne.”

I feel his hand digging into my arm before I hear the tightly furious way he hisses my name.

And I want to leave.

I want to go home, take a hot shower, curl up on the couch and watch a movie with my sister. I want to pretend like there is no father and so there is no one worth telling except Gretchen and Danny, who have both already been told.

Instead, I face him. “I need to talk to you, Liam.”

His dark eyes grow dim. “Wait in my office,” he growls through clenched teeth.

I don’t know where his office is.

He points to the stairs with annoyance.

There are eyes on me as I climb to the top and find the open door to Liam’s office.

The painting is the first thing I notice. The girl in the painting is beautiful and she’s going to marry him. I feel sorry for her. I would never marry him. I don’t even want to have a conversation with him.

Liam doesn’t keep me waiting long. He’s angry. I don’t believe he’s violent but I’m not sure. I remember seeing bruises on Trent the day he was arrested and wondering about them. I’m wondering even more now. Danny always said that Trent hated his older brother.

“It’s my bachelor party for fuck’s sake!” Liam waves his arms as he growls these words. “I’m getting married tomorrow. What the hell do you want?”

“I’m pregnant.”

He pales, his eyes shooting to my stomach, which is comfortably hidden by my oversized scrubs. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am, Liam. I have an ultrasound next week. I can give you the name of my doctor and-“

“Shut up.” He glowers and falls into his desk chair. Panic is beginning to set in, although he must have suspected the reason why I kept calling. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to pull here but whatever bullshit you’re growing in your belly isn’t mine.”

Liam Cassini is not a nice guy. He was nice to me for one night and I was momentarily fooled.

I’m no longer fooled.

My chest is tight and remember Gretchen’s breathing exercises. It’s a coping technique she learned during her summer at Ithaca. She breathes deeply, shuts her eyes if necessary, and thinks of the moon because the moon makes her happy.

I breathe now and I think of my baby.

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