Page 16 of The Bartender's Baby

But a lot of these children—that’s what they were—didn’t give a shit. About anything. Besides maybe their next party or lay. Too bad I was stuck with two of them for a group project.

The professor finished explaining how each group would be given a hypothetical case scenario involving suspected fraud or unethical accounting practices at a fictional company. It would include background information, financial statements,accounting records, emails, and other documentation hinting at potential irregularities. Each group needed to analyze the materials as forensic accountants, identify any red flags or suspicious transactions, and determine what additional information or evidence they would want to obtain in an investigation. We would also conduct our own forensic accounting procedures, such as data mining, ratio analysis, risk assessments, and interviewing techniques to uncover and quantify the extent of the fraudulent activities. Each group would then prepare a report detailing their findings, calculating the financial impact, recommending internal control improvements, and potentially suggesting legal actions based on the evidence gathered during their simulated forensic investigation and present it to the class.

My assigned group was Kevin, the reincarnation of John Belushi fromAnimal House, and Maureen, the girl failing the class, which I knew because she’d asked me if she could borrow my notes since she’d missed a bunch of classes and tanked the first exam. So, this was going to be great.

Fucking great.

I took charge, becauseof course, and outlined what I wanted each of them to do, giving them different dates and times to meet up to discuss it. I didn’t trust either one of them to get anything done on their own.

Back at home, I warmed up under the blankets and relaxed a bit before I made myself dinner and dressed for work in my usual dark denim and Walt’s T-shirt. Although, I slid a flannel on over it, partially to ward away the cold and partially to cover up the slight bump of my belly.

I stood in front of the mirror for a long while holding up my shirt, turning this way and that, rubbing my hands over my stomach, hope and fear blossoming inside me with every new day. I hadn’t been raised with religion, but I had taken to talkingto whatever deity was up there to get me and this baby through it. Miscarriages were common, but that word didn’t seem big enough for my situation, or others like mine. To deliver a baby girl who never even took her first breath. To hold the tiny bundle, only to have to decide if or where I wanted to bury her. I was grateful for the kindness of the hospital staff and to live in a state that didn’t force me to do anything. Rather, the decisions were left up to Danny and me. When we were practically babies ourselves.

We made the choice to cremate her, but neither one of us had the heart to name her. That made it feel too real. After everything I’d been through, I hadn’t thought I’d be able to handle that. Danny had ordered special urn jewelry so we would be able to carry the last pieces of her with us every day. A braided leather bracelet with a thick bead in the center for him, and a gold necklace with a starburst pendant for me. I remembered how he’d put it on me and kissed my cheek, saying, “We’re all made out of star stuff anyway. You’ll have the entire galaxy with you every day.”

It was the best thing he could’ve said.

One of the last things he’d said about it.

A few months later, we were divorced, neither one of us capable of working through it together.

Once again, I allowed myself to feel those feelings and then set them aside to put on my coat and meet Nate outside. After I buckled in, he gently tossed something into my lap. I held up the thirty-two-ounce stainless-steel water bottle and bit the inside of my cheeks to keep from laughing at the customization of Maleficent with the wordsMistress of Evil’s water.A running joke of how he insisted I had the cartoon villain’s vibes. I didn’t mind.

Could be worse comparisons than a witch snubbed by a baby. Appropriate, really.

“Thank you,” I said, opening it up to take a drink as he pulled away from the curb.

“You need to drink two of those a day,” he told me, making a left at the stop sign. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

He kept his eyes on the road but leaned toward me, evidently wanting more.

I sighed. “I’m fine.”

He turned down the volume of the radio so I couldn’t even listen to it. My punishment.

I tucked the water bottle in my bag and stared out of the window. “I feel better now than I did a few weeks ago. I have more energy, feel more clearheaded.”

“Good. What’d you have for dinner?”

I angled my head to glower at him. “What didyouhave for dinner?”

“A bacon cheeseburger with sweet potato fries, thanks for asking. It was delicious. Now, you go.”

I made a sort of gagging noise.

“What?”

“The idea of eating meat has been making me…” I stuck out my tongue.

“Baby’s a vegetarian, eh? Good to know. So what’d you eat?”

“Yogurt with granola and a banana.”

“That’s it? That’s asnack, Tabitha.”

“It was my dinner,Nathan. That’s all I was hungry for.”

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