It’s a girl. And you know what they named it?” “What?” he asked. “Frances,” I said. “That’s my grandmother’s name, his mom. I never even knew her; she died when I was little. But still. I mean, that’s my name.” “That’s fucked up,” he admitted. “I thought so,” I said. “My mom really thought so.” “Does he call the baby Frankie?” he asked. “I’m afraid to ask,”
