Love Contract

I tend to think that pain shapes us by fire. At least it is better to think that way than the opposite, that it destroys us little by little. I preferred to gather all the pieces of my heart and try to move on, even if pretending it didn’t happen is a bad option, it is still na option.

" Get on with it, you bitch from hell! " I hear the call of a drunk at one of the bar tables.

Working in a bar, surrounded by rude, drunken men who are always trying to hold hands with the waitresses was not my childhood dream, of course. But life shows us that childhood dreams should remain in childhood. Living in Moscow has never been easy, but it tends to become even worse with time.

" I’m coming. " I warn him, walking towards him with the glasses of Russian beer on the tray. As I get closer, I avoid looking at any of the four men laughing and talking obscene things, just putting glass by glass in front of them and trying to think of something else. But when I am on the second glass, one of them touches my thigh underneath my uniform, making me shiver. The rough hand almost scratches my skin, and the nausea makes me need to take a deep breath. " Move away, please."

" Don’t pretend you hate it, redhead. We know what promiscuous women like you like. " He keeps his hand on me, reaching up my uniform skirt.

As I have to hold the tray with one hand, I struggle to balance the two remaining glasses or the loss will come out of my paycheck and to top it off, no matter what they are doing, I would be the one to blame if I doused them with beer.

" I said, get your hand off me! " Before he can reach for what he wants, I grab his wrist with my trembling hand and leave the tray on the table. " Entertaining you is not my job.

Despite my phrase, they seem well entertained because they just laugh. I am a joke. At this moment I feel so small that I wish I were invisible, my whole body begins to tremble, my heart feels like there’s a giant animal sitting on it so crushed, and tears gather in my eyes.

I feel like I am suffocating, needing to run far away for air. I put one hand on my chest, breathing so hard that my rib cage hurts as I practically run towards the exit.

" Allegra! "I hear the familiar voice of my boss, which only makes my desperation worse but there’s not much I can do. " Where are you going?"

" I just need to breathe a little, please give me a few minutes. " I force the voice out, my chest hurts like I have a knife buried in it.

" You have na order, deliver it first and then take your minutes."

"But I... please, they’ll just be..."

" That’s na order, Allegra! " He affirms, stopping me from continuing to try to put the sentence together in my desperation.

Without being able to say anything else, using all the ways I can to breathe and walk at the same time, I go to the counter. There is na open bottle of cheap wine and a glass, which I pick up with trembling fingers and tears in my eyes.

"Is everything all right, Alle? " The night bartender worries, being the only one who really seems to notice. But he’s still a man, and I don’t trust anyone male other than my father.

"He will. " I lie, wiping away the tears that have escaped with one hand and continuing in search of air. "– Which table?