by Jen Luerssen
“I’m nervous to see her, it’s going to be more real, I think,” he admits and I bring his hand in for a kiss.
“You’re so sure it’s a her?” I ask.
“It’s just a feeling, but yes.”
The doctor and a technician roll in the ultrasound and set it up. My doctor spreads the goop on my belly and gets ready to show us our baby. “Since you are about 20 weeks, we may be able to determine gender today if we can get some good angles. Do you want me to tell you?”
We both nod. “Yes, please. We are dying to know, and Frank would kill me if we participated in one of those gender reveals.”
“It doesn’t make any sense, there’s literally no reason that pink and blue should be indicative of gender. It’s a ridiculous social construct that I refuse to take a part in.”
The doctor gives Frank a long look and then turns to me. “Are you sure?” Her question has dual meanings and I suppress a laugh.
“Oh, I’m sure.”
“So if you refuse to participate in celebrations of gender, why are you dying to know?” she asks and it’s a valid inquiry.
“I want to know so I can have a better picture in my mind when I’m talking to the baby, it seems like it will be a stronger connection if I can call him or her by their name, knowing what they may look like,” he says.
It’s a sweet reason, and I can see the doctor’s mini swoon. She nods and gets down to business. The machine is noisy and once the wand is pressing into my abdomen we can hear the heart beating. This is the second time I’ve heard the heartbeat and it’s just as awesome as the first time. It takes a bit but we are able to make out the head, arms, and legs, and do end up getting a good angle to see that our Reilly is going to be a girl.
Frank is squeezing my hand and I think he’s really trying not to break into a sob. My heart is overflowing and I’m so excited for what is next.
“Dad, would you like a print of your baby to take home?” the technician asks, winking at me.
Frank nods enthusiastically and now I know he’s going to lose it soon. I wipe all of the goop off of me and slip my dress back on, reaching into my purse for the box I need. As I turn back to Frank he is still sitting in the chair next to the exam table, the tech hands me the sonogram photo having attached something I provided before our visit.
He holds his hand out. “Let me see.”
I hand it to him and then go to my knees in front of him holding the pair of rings I picked for us, yeah, he gets an engagement ring. I told Lia I wanted everyone to know that Frank is my bitch, but also, I’m his so I got two custom-made rings with our birth date engraved on the outside.
He looks at the picture and then at me and then at the rings I’m holding and he’s in shock. The picture of our tiny little Ignatius fetus has a speech bubble that says “Will you marry my mom?” on it.
The shock doesn’t last long and he grabs me and spins me around. I let out a little shriek.
“Put me down,” I ask and he obeys. “Francisco Freedom Fontana, you are my soul mate, my partner, and my twin from another bin, will you please marry me?” I ask officially.
“Fucking yes!” he shouts and then kisses the breath straight out of me.
A HUNDRED MILLION THANK YOUS go out to my husband and darling girl for all their support while writing this book. It was the most fun I’ve had, while emotionally exhausting at the same time. After a devastating loss, I wasn’t feeling creative or inspired. The fact that my little family supported me with care and being present in my life, lifted me out of that dark time.
I really hope you love Frank as much as I do. He isn’t based on one person in particular but a few curmudgeons with hearts of gold I’ve had the pleasure to know. You know who you are you lovable assholes.
I could not have written this book without the support of my amazing author friends. To my East Coast retreat peeps, especially Monica DeSimone, I’ll be forever grateful for listening to my crazy ideas and telling me that sure, call your book Fucking Frank, who cares?
Shout out to the Fanwood and Westfield Libraries for acting as my office and sounding board. To Meredith who also dealt with loss but is a lovely, cheerful person who gave invaluable feedback on which hot picture to use on the cover.
To my PA and proofreader, Meaghan, I’d be lost without you, please never leave me.
Huge thanks to Christopher Correia, the phenomenal photographer who took my vision of Frank and made him an even hotter reality.
Thanks to Taylor Scott, who was willing to don the glasses and the snarky look to become Frank.
To the magnificent JM Walker at Just Write. Creations for continuing to nail every weird cover idea I throw at her and go above and beyond to make it an even better idea.
To my readers!! You three are all so great. Kidding! I can’t believe that anyone takes the time to read my stories and it’s an honor to be read by you guys!
To my friends, who have been so lovely and supportive this year. I am a lucky woman.
I’m so grateful for my brother, Jim and his beautiful family, Jamie and Andrew. It’s been really hard and I’m so glad I have you in my life to help get through it.
To my dad who is one of my biggest fans and my gym buddy. I love you.
To my precious mom, I miss you so much.
JEN LUERSSEN GREW UP IN New Jersey and then lived for 20 years in the San Francisco Bay area. She has held various jobs in her adult life. Some examples are nanny, waitress, receptionist, dispatcher, caterer, and finally teacher. She spent 10 years teaching 4th and 5th graders, until she finally felt the call to write. It’s been plaguing her thoughts and dreams for years, and those thoughts finally fought their way out.
Jen loves to read, obsessively. She has an unhealthy attachment to her Kindle and is rarely seen without it. She’ll read anything, but especially loves good smut or a post-apocalyptic young adult book.
After “retiring” from teaching, Jen sat down and wrote a book and then another and another and it was the most fun she’s ever had working. She is self-published even though she’s still not sure exactly how it works and hopes that people like her funny stories.
Jen is back in her native New Jersey and lives with her husband, daughter, and dog, enjoying suburban life.
Too Far to Care
The Tide is High
Grown Woman
High Note