From Here to Maternity
By Emery C. Walters
Our mother named us after countries in Africa. My sister and I have suffered all our lives for this hippie-doodie great idea. At least I can go by Ken, for Kenya, but she’s stuck with Botswana, and explaining why she goes by Swan gets confusing. Her temper matches her red hair at those times. My own hair is a nicer shade of bronze, thank you very much. Her husband’s hair is black, but he’s currently away in the military.
So I’m sitting quietly in a nice, upscale gay bar, The Wild Hare, when my cell phone rings. Immediately, I try to figure out how I can make this handsome stud I’m talking to think I’m popular and make him want me. I mean, it’s been a while, and he’s really cute!
So I say, “Hello there,” in my sexiest voice.
Big mistake. I nev
