Well here I am again lying on my back staring at the darkened ceiling. Eugenie is lying beside me ... again. This was how it started, and for the life of me I can’t figure out how it ended this way.
Let me back up a little. My wife and I met at one of my cousin’s weddings. I was twenty-four; two years into my career as a public school teacher. Since then I’ve been promoted twice; first from regular math teacher, and then to administrative assistant at one of the high schools in our county. Eugenie was, is, two years older than I am, and at the time we met she was a paralegal in one of the smaller firms in the old city about thirty miles from where I lived.
That afternoon I was sitting by myself at one of the peripheral tables set aside for family. I’d dated a girl all through college, but shortly after she and I graduated we realized things weren’t going to work out. Actually I realized things wouldn’t work out. I thought dating and almost being engaged meant being exclusive; my girlfriend had other ideas. We discussed our differences and parted ways. I have no idea whatever happened to her, but I knew then I wasn’t especially interested in any kind of serious relationship.
That was why I was at the wedding and reception as a solo; I felt this was an opportunity to pick up a little something. The little something I ended up with was Eugenie.
Eugenie was a little something too; she stood just 5’2” and maybe weighed 110lbs sopping wet. She had dark brown eyes and fluffy, but short, brown hair. Did I fall madly in love; not at first, but that afternoon she was exactly what I was looking for.
I think we hit it off pretty well. She started everything by wandering over to my table. She plopped, and I mean plopped, down on an adjacent seat and introduced herself.
I thought she was kind of pretty. For a wedding I thought she was a little underdressed wearing a white blouse, light brown pleated mini-skirt, and brown socks that matched her two inch heels. I could tell there was some kind of chemise or something under the blouse, but considering the way her tiny boobs flopped around I knew there couldn’t be a bra under there. And oh yeah, she was wearing glasses, not contacts.
We talked for a while about the wedding, how beautiful the bride was, how handsome the groom was, and what a beautiful day everything just generally was. It didn’t take me long to realize she was either high on weed or she’d had too much to drink.
The more we talked the more I realized I’d found someone who, like me, wasn’t interested in any kind of long term commitment. Two hours after we met I had her out in my car, a late model Malibu, and we were pounding away. While we were out there I not only found out she wasn’t only not wearing a bra; she didn’t have any panties on either. She’d come ready for bear! I was so excited, and I’ll admit a little drunk too, that I completely forgot about protection.
We exchanged phone numbers and emails, and a little later, after a little more talk, we ambled back in to the reception. Once inside we sort of drifted apart; she shuffled over to her table while I sauntered off to mine. The newlyweds traveled the tables. They wished everyone well, and were gone. I gathered up my things, and took off for home.
All in all it had been a pretty good day. I’d enjoyed a happy wedding, reconnected with a few relatives, and gotten more than I’d planned on in the sex department. The following Monday I went back to work, and completely forgot about Eugenie and our afternoon tryst.
Yeah, I’d forgotten, and so for a while had Eugenie. Then just a little over two months after the wedding I got an email followed by a phone message. Eugenie needed to see me. What for, I wondered?
We met on a Thursday evening after I left school. We got together at a tavern not far from my apartment. Remembering our last get together I was dressed casually. I expected a possible repeat of the reception afternoon. Eugenie showed up shortly after I did. She was still dressed for work in a smartly fitting dark blue dress and a long scarf wrap lung around her neck.
She somewhat casually walked over to the bar where I was sitting and asked if we could find a booth. She had something she needed to say. I ordered another Coors Lite and got her a glass of Pepsi. I should have known then this wasn’t just a social thing.
We found an empty booth and she unloaded on me right away. She said, “I recall your name is Chase, Chase McLendon.”
I replied, “That’s right, and you’re Eugenie Bonheur.”
She smiled, “Nice going. You remembered.”
“I haven’t seen you in a while Eugenie. How have you been?”
“I’m pregnant Chase, and the baby’s yours.”
Thank God I’d taken a dump before I left work. Otherwise I knew I would’ve shit my pants right there. I guess she could tell I was somewhat surprised, because she continued to talk, “I know whoever he or she is they’re yours. We didn’t use any protection. I can’t use the pill, and I was so high I completely forgot about using any spermicide or anything later.”
The last thing I wanted to do was get married, and I absolutely had no interest in marrying some woman who’d fuck a guy after just a two hour conversation at a wedding. I asked her, “You want me to help you get rid of it?”
She got up, “I can see this isn’t going to work,” she flipped her scarf around her neck, turned, and started out the door.
My first reaction was, thank God, but I immediately realized she might know some of my family. What if this got back to them? I got out of my side of the booth and hurried to catch her before she got out door. I got her by the arm, stopped her, and managed to pull her around, “Hey wait a minute.”
She glared at ne, “Wait for what? You made yourself pretty clear.”
I kept my hand on her arm, but with my other hand I tried to steer her back toward the booth, “Not so fast. Come on back. Let’s try to work something out.” With my arm as a rudder I was able to maneuver her back to the booth. We sat back down. I pursed my lips, steepled my fingers, crossed my arms on the table, nervously fidgeted, and finally blurted out, “You’re sure it’s mine?”
She stonily responded, “Positive.”
I asked again, “Abor... ,” I couldn’t say the word, “early removal isn’t an option?”
“You need help?”
“What do you think?”
“OK, what do you want me to do?”
“I still live at home. In a couple weeks I’m going to start to show. I’m going to need some cover.”
I knew what she meant, but I was getting pretty scared, “What do you mean?”
“I’m going to need someone who’ll stand up and say they’re the father.”
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?”
She grimaced, “Would I be here if I had a boyfriend,” she hesitated, “actually yes I do, but he’s black and my parents don’t know and they’d kill me if I brought a black man into their house.”
“So you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend and say the baby’s mine.”
“No, I want you to marry me, then tell my parents you’re my husband, and that the baby’s yours.”
I kept thinking, ‘shot at sunrise’, I’m being shot at sunrise. I replied, “I could tell you just to get up and leave.”
She started to get up again.
“No,” I said, “I don’t mean that.”
She sat back down.
My mind drifted all over the place. She was pregnant. She said it was my kid. She had a black boyfriend. He probably had a fifteen inch dick. We’d get married and he’d be in and out, I thought really in and out all the time. Hell, I didn’t even know her. She didn’t know me either. I told her, “You don’t even know me.”
Eugenie replied, “I asked around. Everyone says you’re OK.”
‘Fuck, ‘ I thought, ‘only OK.’ I told her, “Well what about you? You OK?”
She sighed, “Look I’m not looking for any kind of forever thing. We get married. We stay married until my baby comes. Then we have a fight. We split up, and my baby has a name. My reputation, such as it is, stays clean, and you get to go back to being whatever it is you are.”
I had to ask, “Well is it that you think I are?”
She leafed through this volumous purse she had with her, found a sheet of paper, opened it out and responded, “You’re a high school math teacher. You teach all levels from general math to Calculus. Your family’s well connected in the county, certainly better than mine. You’re on track to become your school’s math department head, and probably in ten or fifteen years you’ll be a principal someplace. You played soccer, volleyball, and lacrosse in college. You belong to the Sunnyvale Sport Club. You like to swim, but don’t golf. You got decent, not great, grades in college. You went to Runny Meade High School right here in this county. You graduated two years behind me. I went to Park Lawn. You’re 5’9”, weight approximately 165lbs., you have blue eyes and sandy colored hair. You have a younger sister and an older brother. You had your appendix out in your junior year of college. And you’re known around the county as something of a tom cat, but apparently none of the girls seem to mind. Tell me did I miss anything?”
“I like dogs.”
She glanced back down at her paper, “Yeah, your dog, a black lab retriever named Maggie, is at your parents.”
I sat back, “All right what about you?”
.... There is more of this story ...