Eugenie's Story

An introduction and fair warning.

It would be a good idea to read 'The Dentist' first, as there's no overt rehash of that story here. Second, this is told as a series of entries in a diary so Eugenie, being a woman, is not constrained by linear thought. Third, again it is a woman doing most of the talking so keep that in mind; it might run a little long. Fourth, I went back and reread Troubadour's 'How High a Price'; that story is an all-time classic, but it got scathing criticism and terribly low votes. I think that alone speaks to some of the people who write remarks. And last, remember this is Eugenie's story. If Chase can forgive and still love her, maybe you could show a little compassion too.

It starts and ends with Chase as he opens, reads, and then comments on his wife's diary.

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Her Sequel to The Dentist.

Hello readers. My name is Chase McClendon. You may have heard or read about Eugenie the mother of my three daughters, and the woman I married and will love till the day I die. I got a surprise this morning; it seems Eugenie's been keeping a diary. Well if anyone knows anything about Eugenie and me it certainly won't surprise them if I decide to do a little eavesdropping. Let's open this up and drop in on her...

Dear Diary:

This is entry number one: my first day.

OK, this is how I'm going to begin. For a few minutes I'm going to pretend I'm Edwin Booth; brother to John Wilkes Booth the man who murdered Abraham Lincoln.

Remember both brothers were famous stage performers. Right after Lincoln's murder Edwin left the stage, and he stayed out of the public eye for quite a while. Later he went back to work; the house on opening night was packed. People wanted to see the brother of the man who murdered the president. Many wanted to lynch him. And what did Edwin do; he took a chair, and before the play was set to begin he went out on stage alone. All alone he sat down and let the audience yell at him, call him names, and throw things at him. He sat there all by himself and said nothing. Finally the people in the audience grew quiet; they began to realize Edwin was even more ashamed and more despondent about what his brother had done than they were.

The audience did finally quiet down. Booth went backstage and prepared for his performance. He played the role of Hamlet; a role that over the years he made especially famous.

That's not all diary; a few years later while Edwin was starring in a play there was a tragic accident in the playhouse. Lincoln's son was there, and his life was in peril. Well Diary; just guess who saved the boy? That's right Edwin Booth saved Lincoln's son's life; the murderer's brother saved the life of the murdered man's son.

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Entry two: it's still the first day.

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Sorry Diary I had to go and have a good cry. I've been crying a lot these past few months, but I'm getting better. Oh the guilt and shame is still vividly there, but I'm doing better. I've had help. I've had a lot of help. I've had Chase.

I know everyone hates me. I know what they think of me. They all think I'm the round heeled, two-faced, home wrecking, unfaithful, self-centered bitch who tore up everything Chase and I built. Yes, I destroyed my family. I was the cause of the loss of all our property. I'm the reason my three girls, my precious girls, have nothing; they don't even have a bed of their own. I ruined my husband's happiness. I destroyed everything. That's why people hate me. I don't blame them. I hate me too.

Well Diary, you're my secret friend and hidden witness so I'm here to say that the Eugenie who did all those awful things is dead. Like John Wilkes Booth died in a barn in southern Maryland, the old Eugenie died while wrapped in her sweet, still loving, and unbelievably forgiving husband's arms.

Like John and Edwin I'm here to say, even as John was the murderer and the destroyer, and Edwin was the rescuer; I, one time Eugenie McClendon nee Bonheur now Eugenie the 'Worthless Nobody' make these solemn promises. First I vow Eugenie the destroyer is henceforth now and forever dead, or she will be soon. Second I vow a new Eugenie will emerge from the ashes of the terrible heartbreak and destruction she created. I vow the new Eugenie will earn back the respect, love, and trust of her ex-husband and her three girls. And last I solemnly vow and swear the new Eugenie will find a way to restore her family to a position of good emotional and economic health. By Almighty God I promise I will do these things. I swear by Jesus and Mary his mother I will save my family. I promise I will restore what I destroyed.

Good night for now Diary. I'll be back real soon.

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Entry three: several days later.

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I'm sorry I've been away almost a week, but I've been doing some serious thinking. I've begun to go to work too, not at a job though, I've started on something a lot more important.

I've been thinking about the 'Old Eugenie', what kind of person she was, and how I can confess my guilt and still retain the small fragments of 'Old Eugenie' that weren't totally bad.

Well here goes; I've had to go back and give myself an honest appraisal, I've had to assess what I've been like, and why I've been that way. It's like I'm Dorian Grey, and I'm looking at the awful portrait that shows my real self. I tell you I don't like what I see.

I'm not going to try to blame anybody else for my guilt, but It's my story, you're my diary, and I can say what I want as long as it's the truth.

OK, let's get to the basics. First I'm not pretty. I have dark brown eyes, dark brown hair, and a very plain complexion. I guess I should be thankful I never had acne and I don't have any of those awful hairy moles, but pretty I'm definitely not. Oh there are women with my general appearance; there's Rachel Leigh Cook and Courtney Cox, they're pretty, but me I'm just plain.

I remember when I first started to develop. Oh I got my period early enough, but that turned out to be a joke. All my girlfriends had moms who made a big deal out of it. They went out and bought the napkins and tampons. Their moms all had the long mother and daughter talk about boys and sex. My mom, no way; when I showed her my first blood spots she just shrugged. She gave me some money and told me what to buy. She told me to look up menstruation in a book, and about a week later she took me to the doctors, he checked me over, and handed my mom a prescription for birth control pills. For me, the doctor's office was the big mother-daughter bonding moment. I'm not blaming my mom for what I became, but a little help and nurturing early on wouldn't have been bad, more about my mom later.

I was late getting my boobs. Most of my friends were starting to shape up by the eighth grade. Not me; nothing showed up for me till the middle of the eleventh grade. It made sense I guess. I was in all the top classes in school; all the other girls in my classes were flat chested too.

So there I was, halfway through the eleventh grade, no boobs, no waist, no ass, short nondescript brown hair. I was so near sighted contact lenses wouldn't work, and my parents were frugal so they didn't think the more stylish wire frames were worth the cost. I ended up with thick plastic tortoise shell frames and thick coke bottle lenses. I was so self-conscious it hurt.

That spring was the junior prom. I so wanted to go to the prom. All my girlfriends had dates. I was desperate. There was one boy. He wasn't a jock or anything, but he was a nice boy. He never made fun of me or called me names. Yeah I got called names. Believe me no girl wants to be called 'Flatty Patty' or 'Patty Pancakes'. Heck my name wasn't even Patty!

I started being extra nice to this boy. I went out of my way to sit near him in the cafeteria. He had a car, and I wangled a way to get him to take me home from school a couple of times. He was kind of shy, but about two weeks before the prom he asked me to go with him. Of course I said yes.

Against her better judgment my mom agreed to take me out to get a prom dress. She took me to one of the cheapest dress shops in the area; at least it wasn't Walmart. I was so pleased; a real date in a car with a boy I sort of liked.

A couple days later I noticed the boy had started avoiding me. I knew what was coming but I asked him what was wrong anyway. He told me he'd changed his mind; he'd asked another girl to the prom instead of me. I thought well at least he was honest. When I went home and told my mom all she did was take the dress back. Was I heartbroken; well who wouldn't be? I mean I cried some.

After that I climbed back in my shell. I never even tried to make friends with any boys. I went through the last of my junior year and all my senior as a complete recluse.

I've got to sign off for now. It's close to 4:00 and the girls will be home soon. Chase gets home at 5:00, but he goes back out at 7:00 for his night job. He teaches night school. I want to clean myself up a little, fix my hair and put on some makeup. I'm not working right now. I stay home and take care of Chase's mom. She's pretty bad with Alzheimer's these days. I want to be my best for my ex-husband. God Diary I love him so much!

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Entry Four: 4:00 a.m. the next morning.

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Good morning Diary. I guess by now you know I get up way ahead of everybody else. Chase's mom will be awake pretty soon, so this will be I'm afraid the only time I'll get to talk to you for a couple days. I wanted to say something about last night.

We had spaghetti for dinner. I made a special cake for dessert. I'm getting pretty good at cooking. I really like making pastries. I'll probably get fat. We had dinner, and I got Chase off to his night job. I helped my girls with their homework, and tried to get them in bed before their dad came home. Chase's mom was pretty easy last night. Sometimes she goes off, but last night she was OK.

That's not what I wanted to tell you about. Chase got home around 10:30. He was really bushed. He took a shower and came in our bedroom all ready for sleep. I wasn't into that last night. I know Chase loves me; he took me back didn't he? But I know how he feels about all the bad things I've done. Now I just want to make him happy.

I had on my pale pink two piece nightie. I wore it because I know how much he likes it. I'd showered and freshened up before he got home. Once he got in bed I went to work. I thought I'd be extra nice.

He climbed in bed and sighed.

I got in beside him and reached down for his thing. Chase isn't a big man; he's barely six foot, but he's got a nice thing. I've been with my share of men before Chase, and then there was the dentist. Comparatively speaking believe me Chase has the size, but it's not just the size that counts. Honestly, Chase is the only man who's been able to get all the way up inside me. That's not completely true; Ken the Kenyan got all the way a couple times, but never like Chase. More important Chase has staying power. When he gets hard he stays hard. Even more important when he's inside me he puts his hands all over me, he kisses on my face and around my neck, and he whispers sweet things in my ear. Now I'm back in his bed where I belong. I wonder all the time what I was thinking; to have left him for the dentist, that was unreal.

I remember when he first let me back in bed with him. I was so cold down in the living room. He took pity on me. Those first couple of nights I don't think he was able to get it up; that's how badly I'd hurt him. I remember those first few nights and how careful I was. I just let him hold me. I'd hold him too. I'd lie in his arms and cuddle up as tightly as I could. I kept kissing his chest. I kept whispering about how much I loved him. I kept promising him how I'd make things better. I never tried to touch his thing, but after a few nights I felt him begin to stir.

Last night I could tell he was desperately tired, but I sensed he still had a need for some affection. That's what's been funny about the whole thing with us. Even when we first got married and the deal was just a business relationship I could sort of sense when he was off his oats. It was never anything he said or did; there was just something about him. I can't explain it. It's been like E.S.P. or something.

Back to last night. I knew he needed me. I climbed in and started to softly touch his thing. It turned out so great. Let me tell you some of it.

I was lying there lightly touching the tip of his flaccid penis when he said, "Not tonight honey, I'm tired and have a headache."

He'd started calling me names like honey again. I like that. I kept touching his thing. I whispered, "I'm going to help you relax."

He sighed and laid there on his back. I scooted my head under the covers and crawled down to his thing. I started to kiss of his thingy's tip. Chase was circumcised when he was a baby. I'm glad because I don't like that hood stuff.

While I was fiddling with his penie, I used the fingertips of my right hand to softly rub his neck. He turned his head into my fingers and murmured, "Cut it out that tickles."

I moved my hand down to his left arm and got him to lift it so his left hand was on my head. He started to gently pet the top of my head. It felt really good.

I kept kissing his thingy. I started to lick up and down on his shaft always making sure I ended each lick on the tip. He started to get hard.

It only took a few more seconds and my Chase was almost all the way erect. He pulled me back up and crawled on top of me. He was so warm; his body felt like a furnace when he got on top of me. Then he slid inside me. Of course I was already wet. I'd been thinking about doing this with him all day.

He was tired so he moved in and out slowly. I wrapped my arms around his head and started whispering, "I love you. I love you so much."

That was all the incentive he needed. He started driving in a little harder. He went all the way up inside me. He didn't last long. I didn't expect him to, but he flooded my insides with his stuff. His manhood went way up deep inside me. I felt so good, I felt so complete.

Once he finished he rolled off, but I wasn't finished. I crawled back under the covers and proceeded to lick him clean. Sperm smells bad and sometimes it tastes bad too, but this was my Chase's sperm. I didn't care.

He was really tired and he'd gone flaccid pretty quick. I didn't care. I got most of him inside my mouth and just lay there, him inside my mouth and my tongue kind of trying to swish and swirl all around him. Stuff kept dribbling out in my mouth.

I knew he was really tried; he worked two jobs already, but he slowly started to get hard again. Now I know my Chase, if he gets hard he expects that he should get back inside me. He'd always felt that just me doing him was kind of him being selfish. Back before, back when we'd been married I'd let him think that, that had been me being selfish.

He knew he was getting hard again and I felt him move like he was going to take over. I pushed him down and crawled down so that I was under the covers kneeling between his legs. I took the next several minutes slow and easy while I sucked him off. All the while I used my hands to rub his abdomen. Every now and then I let him slip out of my mouth so I could kiss his tummy. It would kind of bounce. Then I'd put him back in my mouth. When he ejaculated I drank it all in. That last thing, swallowing all his semen was something I'd refused to do when we were married. I do it now though. I'd do anything for him.

When he and I were finished he pulled me up and whispered, "You didn't have to do that."

I kissed his neck and cheek and whispered back, "I wished I'd done it more often back before."

At first he stiffened a little, but then he sighed and hugged me closer. That's how we went to sleep.

Well I've got sign off for now, but you see what I'm doing. I want Chase to see that he's at the center now, not me. I'm becoming a better person.

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Entry Five: It's been three days.

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Well diary it's 2:30 in the afternoon. All the laundry and ironing is done. I do all the clothes. I take all kinds of extra time with the girls' dresses, blouses, and skirts. I make extra certain every pleat, every sleeve, every collar is perfect, and no wrinkles anywhere. They might not have the most expensive clothes, but they certainly have the freshest and cleanest. Chase likes a starched look so I wash his shirts and when I iron them I dip the button fronts, his cuffs, and his collars in starch. We can't afford to send them out, but by the time I'm finished they look even better. I'm extra careful with his pants too. When I iron them I use a damp cloth to make certain his crease is perfect. I know the women teachers at his school notice him. I want them to notice him. I may be bad, but I want them to be jealous. That's still some of the old Eugenie I guess. I don't care I still want them to notice and want him.

I have something special in the oven too; it's a triple decker marble cake. I've got my own special frosting for it.

I was thinking about my mom and dad. My dad was a truck driver. He drove mostly the 'big rigs', but he drove box trucks too. Usually his work took him away two or three days at a time. He was a quiet man. I know he loved me, I think he did, but to him, like nearly all men, he showed his love by how big his paycheck was and how hard he worked. I know all that now; I wished I knew that before...

My mom was a cold woman. My dad was French and Catholic. My mom had been born in West Germany right around the time of the war. She'd been raised a Lutheran, but converted to Catholicism for my dad. I bet that was the only selfless thing she ever did for him. She must have loved him once I guess.

I don't know whether my mom was cold or just indifferent; indifferent to me and my dad. I can't say exactly when, but sometime in my early adolescence I realized my mom never much liked kids, and I don't think she ever really wanted to have me.

There was a time at church when there was this mother-daughter dinner. I went to an all-girls Catholic school so the mother-daughter things were kind of important. When I was little there was always a reason why we had to skip them, but long about the time I was to be confirmed this special dinner came up. All the girls were expected to be there; moms were optional but were still kind of expected. My mom begged off; she said she had to work late. I went alone, but got bored and left early. I mean who'd want to stay when they were the only child at that kind of dinner? No one even said anything when I put my coat on and left; not even any of the priests or the sisters.

I didn't call for a ride I just walked home. The church was only about a mile from our house anyway. We lived in a neighborhood where the houses were all close together, and at the end of our street there was a tavern. It was called 'The Lounge', and my mom went there once in a while. My dad was out on a run, but I had a key to the house. I was twelve after all. When I walked past the 'Lounge' I saw my mom's car. She said she'd had to work, yeah, right. I went on home.

Mom got home shortly after 11:00 and asked why I wasn't in bed. Like the child that I was I told her the truth. I told her I saw her car at the tavern. I asked her why she lied to me about work, and why she didn't want to come to the dinner with me. She didn't get mad; she just shrugged and told me to go to bed. She never explained anything. I guess that was when I finally understood all the signs I'd seen over the years. My mom just didn't care much about me one way or the other.

So that was my family; a dad who was gone all the time, and a mom who just didn't give a good shit. Now I'm not blaming my parents for my bad behavior, but I think sometimes I could've used some help. Maybe if my mom and dad had been more like Chase's parents I might have turned out a little better. I'll tell you about his parents another time.