The Right Life

The clink of wine glasses and murmured conversation filled the air at Sage & Cedar, the hum of the Friday dinner rush humming all around Bianca like a second heartbeat. She wove effortlessly between tables, tray balanced on one arm, her smile just warm enough to pull tips but distant enough to keep the assholes at bay.

She was tired. Feet already aching, she tried to pace herself. It was going to be a long night, especially after her time with Joey. Normally she would come into a shift fully rested, fresh, ready for the world. Joey's needs, however, had taken precedence over sleep, so she would have to work through the exhaustion.

Not that she was complaining. Far from it. She felt extremely satisfied.

The whole night and most of the morning had been revelatory. Joey. Taking care of him. Fulfilling her role. Finally being who she was born to be.

For Bianca it hadn’t been wild or passionate or even particularly pleasurable. Stakes had been far too high for her to lose herself in it. It wasn't that Joey was bad at sex, he was just young, eager, inexperienced. Bianca didn't care at all. Sure, boys could be uncertain, rough even, but that didn't matter.

What truly mattered was that it had felt right to Joey.

Waiting tables was fine, but it wasn't a calling. It wasn't purpose. Yes, she paid her bills by taking orders and collecting tips, but she only truly lived when she was taking care of Joey's sexual gratification. For the first time in her life, Bianca was doing what she was supposed to do.

It was her calling.

Still, she wasn’t sure what to make of the way he looked at her when he left her apartment earlier. There had been this dopey, love-struck glint in his eyes. She’d walked him to the door in nothing but a robe, planning to kiss him lightly and let him go, but he’d stood there staring at her like she was a goddess or something.

She could have cursed. She didn't, of course, but she was close. Boys were like that. In the years before she knew that only Joey should be allowed to touch her whenever and however he wanted, she had brought a few home. There had been a couple, young, inexperienced, who had looked at her like that. The sex had meant more to them than it was supposed to. Far more.

They didn't understand. Joey didn't understand. Sex was sex. Yes, she made it fun, spicy, but she was just there for his gratification. A relationship, deep feelings, that was never part of the deal.

But to Joey, maybe it was.

For Bianca, it was a duty. A fact of life. Joey had needs. She was the one who took care of them. That didn’t mean she loved him. The last thing she wanted in her life was some skinny kid showing up at her place with flowers and chocolates. She wasn't interested in romance. A long time ago, once she had finally become free from her mother's boyfriends, Bianca had promised herself that she would go it alone. Yes, she could enjoy herself when she wanted, but she wouldn't let anyone get that close. She didn't need it. She didn't want it.

Besides, Joey was just a boy. Donna had told her that he was only eighteen. Eighteen! She should have been more aware. Boys that age fell in love the second you took your shirt off. They’d cling to you and smother you and swear they couldn’t breathe without you. She hoped that Joey wouldn't get like that, but that look in his eyes had made her nervous.

Would it help to tell him the truth? To define what this was before he got too attached? Or would that only break the spell and make him feel rejected? If she told him it didn’t mean anything other than sex, would he stop letting her do it?

Would that leave him... unfulfilled?

And then what? If she wasn’t meeting his needs, would someone else? Would he go without? Would that be her fault?

“Can we get another round over here?” a loud, drunk man at table six barked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Bianca plastered on her polite smile and nodded. “Of course. Another round of the Merlot?”

He nodded, then reached out and touched her elbow. Just a little graze. A gentle, unnecessary contact as she turned to go.

She stiffened.

He didn’t grab her. He didn’t grope her. But he touched her, and that was enough.

Her whole body bristled. She didn’t stop, didn’t say anything. She just kept walking toward the bar, her face blank and calm. But inside, she was burning.

It wasn't unreasonable for her to not want men to touch her! Why didn't men understand that?!

Little touches, here and there, like they had some sort of right to her body. Like her skin was just there for their amusement. Like it didn’t belong to her. Bianca wasn't a piece of property, a part of the restaurant for men to use. She was a human being and deserved her own bodily autonomy. She knew that if she made a scene over the touch she would lose her job. She had once thought her employer was supportive, helped take care of the women who worked for her, but when she brought up a man's hand touching Bianca's when she handed him a glass of scotch in her previous shift, the manager had told her, "Accidents happen, Bianca. Just wash your hands and move on."

Accidents happen?!

Bianca was being reasonable! No touching! Unless, of course, she was talking about Joey. He was the exception. He could touch her anywhere, anyhow. But everyone else should keep to themselves!

She hated it.

Maybe she should look for another career. Something that didn't involve the public. She wasn't great at math, but maybe she could take some night courses and get into something like accounting. Spreadsheets didn't rub their fat sweaty hands all over you.

Another man—this one older, business casual, probably someone's dad—let his hand brush her hip as she dropped off a bill.

"You’re doing an amazing job, sweetheart," he said, all condescension and cologne.

Bianca just smiled and walked away, trying to hold back the retching she felt rising from her stomach.

Back in the kitchen, she let herself breathe. Leaning against the prep counter, ignoring the smells of garlic and lemon butter, Bianca closed her eyes for a minute. She needed to go to her calm place, her peaceful place, before she lost it on her customer.

And there it was. Joey's weight still on her, his body heat, his breath. Bianca could feel it as if it was happening right then, right there. He needed her, which was enough for her to keep fighting through. Working as a waitress wasn't ideal, but it gave her the opportunity to pay bills. And, of course, had it not been for her waitressing job, she would never had met Joey, so she'd always be grateful for that.

Heartrate down, breathing regulated, she crossed to collect some food just ready for one of her tables. For Joey she could put up with it, no matter how gross it got.

But she still had to deal with him. Joey. Joey's feelings. Maybe she would talk to one of the ladies about that. Indira had seemed nice back at the school. She needed to bounce ideas off of one of them, and she knew that they'd have her back.

In the meantime, she had tables to take care of, bills to pay, and sexual gratification to ensure. Thanking the chef, she grabbed her tray and headed back into the fray. Her issues were not resolved, but some things took time.

And Joey? Well, he was worth it.