Balancing Trays, Balancing Truths

Bianca moved smoothly from table to table, the din of conversation, combined with the music piped in from speakers high above, filled her ears as she balanced a tray with practiced ease. Sage & Cedar was not her first serving job. When she'd opted to forego college, as if that had ever been a financial option, her mother told her she had to move out and take care of herself. And so she threw herself at the only way she knew how to make money. Waiting tables.

In high school, which felt like a lifetime ago but by the calendar had been only three years, she had worked part-time, evenings and weekends, at a diner not too far from her house. The money hadn't been great, but it had allowed her to pay her phone bill, buy the clothes that she wanted, and stay out of the house. That was the important thing. Being out of the house in those days felt far safer than staying home.

Early on in life, Bianca had learned that nobody out there had her best interests at heart. Her father had died when she was a toddler, so she'd never had a chance to be disappointed by him. Her mother, far from sainted, had moved on as if nothing happened. Boyfriend to boyfriend. Bottle to bottle. She was a hairstylist at an upscale salon, brought home enough money to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, but not much else. Everything else, the drinking, the vacations, the clothes, Bianca's mother had earned in other ways.

It was a terrible hustle. Before Bianca turned ten she had figured it out. Boyfriends came and went for her mother, usually because they either got tired of her erratic behaviour, or they started to run out of money with all the demands that were being heaped on them. And Bianca's mother was, in a lot of ways, a catch. Tall, busty, knew how to dress, knew how to act, knew when to spread her legs, knew when to get down on her knees.

Bianca hated her mother.

It wasn't even the hustle that bothered her as much. She had come to terms with it years earlier. A woman, put in a difficult situation, had to do what she had to do to survive. No, the issue wasn't the hustle. It was the neglect.

Birthdays? Forgotten. Christmas trees? Devoid of presents. Emotional connection? Might as well be fairy tales. And then there were the nights when, after she'd had too much to drink, Bianca's mother passed out early, leaving the young girl alone with one of the boyfriends. Some were kind, would watch out for her when her mother would be unable to. Those kinds ones, though, didn't last long. They would quickly realize the balance of accounts, what they were being used for, and cut and run. The others, the ones that stuck around longer, they were the ones to watch out for.

They were the ones who had short tempers, the ones with drinking or **** problems, the ones with sharp words and hard fists. Bianca would make herself scarce when they were around. But when she hit puberty and began to develop as a woman... that's when they started seeking her out.

And Bianca hated her mother even more.

She should have looked out for her. She should have protected her. But instead, Bianca felt sold down the river for a steady revenue stream, a bonus that came with the package.

Waiting tables, getting out of the house, had saved her life.

Suddenly Bianca had people around her that had rules, a code of conduct. The owner of the diner, an old woman named Ruby, looked out for her girls. That what she called them. Her Girls. At school, through her friends, Bianca had heard many times of predatory environments where waitresses were taken advantage of, where women didn't have recourse if things went south. Not at Ruby's. Ruby took care of Bianca in ways that her mother never had. Ruby had taught Bianca what she was worth, how she should think of herself, what was and what wasn't appropriate.

When Ruby died, Bianca moved on, but Ruby's lessons went with her. Bianca was up front during job interviews, laying out her expectations of how she should be treated. Should she get a bad vibe from management, if she felt that they didn't have the wait staff's best interest in mind, she would refuse the work. There were other tables, there were other restaurants. Sage & Cedar had impressed her. For one thing, the manager was a woman, about ten years Bianca's senior, and had been up front over her own expectations.

"Should a man approach you inappropriately," she said, "or God forbid, touch you, my expectation is that I am told right away. I don't want my servers wasting their time on toxic customers." She had paused, leaned over the desk, then, "Sage & Cedar has a reputation of the best food, the best staff, and the best atmosphere. If any of those are not to our standard, I want to know."

Bianca had accepted the job on the spot. And she hadn't regretted it for one moment. Yes, there were still the odd asshole who got grabby, but Sage & Cedar had a policy, and those customers were shown the door and not welcomed back. So when Joey had initially asked about the policy, Bianca had initially felt anger, readying herself to call management, to lose her tip but retain her integrity.

But then he'd explained it to her.

"It’s not unreasonable for you to want other men to keep their hands to themselves. You're not here for their sexual gratification. But it’s completely different for me. I'm allowed to touch you whenever and however I want."

Her eye looked across the restaurant and caught sight of Joey as she paused to grab four pints of IPA to deliver to the group of tech bros at table eight. His shoulders slightly hunched, an unreadable tension in his posture. Across from him, Joey's mother, Donna (as she'd introduced herself) swirled her wine glass absently, her face flushed, her gaze locked on her son. Having just met them, Bianca was reminding herself not to judge. Some families were closer than others, so maybe that was all that was going on between the two of them, despite the weird intimate vibes Donna was giving off. Maybe it was just that Joey was so different, that things were so different for him. Maybe that was all it was...

But Bianca, if she was honest with herself, didn't care. If Joey's mother wanted to act all hot for him, well that was on her. She had her own issues with her own mother, so she wouldn't be the one to blame Joey for his mother. No, what Bianca did care about was that Joey was one of the good guys. He, more than the other men who ate at the restaurant, even more than the manager of Sage & Cedar, even more than Ruby herself, understood that men should keep their hands to themselves. Bianca, despite being a beautiful young woman, was not there to sexually gratify men! And Joey also understood, in a way that Bianca knew deep in her soul to be true, that it was completely different for him!

She was so glad that she'd switched shifts with Evie that night. The chances of not only serving the one table that held the one man who was allowed to touch her whenever and however he wanted, the one man for whom she had been placed on the Earth for his sexual gratification, were miniscule. Had she missed the opportunity, she would have eternally regretted it!

Pictures of the men that had come in and out of her mother's door over the years, the gross, hairy, grabby men who had stolen from her so many things. Her agency. Her self respect. Her sense of safety. Long before she had moved out, Bianca had sworn off men, realizing that they were toxic, aggressive, and abusive. At a distance they could serve a purpose, but there was no way she would let one in her life. With Joey, of course, it was completely different. Whatever it was that he wanted from her, it was his to take. He was allowed. She allowed it.

Beers delivered, she crossed back to table eight, adjusting her apron on the way.

"Sorry about that," she said to Joey, who was staring at her wide-eyed, "You know how it is. Lots of tables, short staffed."

"It's alright," he answered.

"Well, only if you weren't looking to, you know, touch me a bit. I'd hate to keep you from that."

There was a moment of silence. It wasn't awkward, though. Bianca felt comfortable being near Joey, knowing that she was within arms reach of him, knowing that if he wanted to, she would be there to be touched, to gratify him.

"Listen," he said finally, "Can we talk just for a second?"

"Sure."

"Can you tell me the touching policy again?"

"The one where men should keep their hands to themselves, except for you? That it's different for you?"

"Yes," Joey said, leaning back, "so, um, actually the policy has changed. It's gone back to the way it was before I explained it. Men shouldn't touch you at work, not even me. You get to decide when men touch you," he paused, "I mean… You’re not here for anyone’s sexual gratification. Not mine. Not anybody’s."

Bianca's smile faltered. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her tray. "I don't understand."

"I mean it’s not okay for me… or anyone… to touch you whenever and however they want. You should feel… safe. That’s important."

Her lips parted in a soft, incredulous laugh, "You think I don't feel safe? With you?" She stared at him, trying to reconcile the words coming from his mouth with what she knew.

"If you think that I'm just going to start touching you whenever I want," he said, "Of course you'd feel unsafe. You too, mom."

Bianca’s brow knitted together. It had to be some sort of joke.

"I don't get it. It's different with you. Completely different," she said, as if explaining the most obvious thing in the world. "Why on Earth would you even think otherwise?"

"Joey," his mother piped in, "Are you feeling alright? You're talking a little crazy."

"You’re not like other men," Bianca continued, wondering why he was acting so strangely, "You can touch me whenever you want. However you want. Are you sure you don't want me to sit down so you can touch me a little? It might help you calm down."

Joey's mouth opened and closed a few times, like a fish trying to breath after being caught. His eyes searched this way and that, as if trying to complete a thought that eluded him. The poor guy must be going through something. He hadn't seemed stupid when they'd spoken before, in fact he'd been quite insightful. But maybe he was a bit slow. Not that it mattered to Bianca. It didn't change the role she got to play in his life.

"Joey," she said slowly, giving him time to absorb the information, "Just don't overthink things. I am here for your sexual gratification. End of story. It's not just a company policy, it's what I'm here on this planet for. It's who I am. I've had lots of guys try to define who I am in my life. Please don't try to be one of those guys. Let me be me. You can touch me, you can use me sexually, but you don't get to define me."

There. She couldn't be clearer. Bianca had laid out the truth to him. She wasn't going to let a man push her around, take advantage of her, tell her who she was. She'd had enough of that predatory behaviour from her mother's boyfriends. No, she was setting the terms. Joey was going to use her for his sexual gratification. He was going to touch her whenever and however he wanted. And there was nothing he could tell her to convince her otherwise.