Your Tinder guardian angel is drunk

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This story was commended by the Short Stories Unlimited competition in May 2023. It is now published in the anthology Leaving Home and Other Stories, which you can buy and read among other great stories here.

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This story isn’t about Ruby, but bear with me. I want to tell you a story about a revolution in love, and even though it’s not about her, that’s where I’m going to start. With Ruby on the fringes of a sea of people, watching them loudly enjoying dinner and drinks.

It was the first tolerably warm evening in months and as soon as it was a socially acceptable time of day to start drinking, people from across nearby suburbs in Melbourne had gathered in Brunswick. The recent Larneuk season had brought rain and little relief from the bitter cold of Chunnup. Petyan had then been a typically tempestuous season with floods one minute, wind the next, and all-too-brief periods of sun. But this particular evening was balmy and calm, hinting at the promise of the warmer Ballamber season to come.

The buzz of the bars and restaurants was electric. Fairy lights adorned the trees, cliches not-so-secretly adored by those basking in their glow, and the sound of the band playing inside the burger joint spilled out of the open windows over everyone nearby. Children ran under the feet of their parents outside the infamous ice cream shop next door, blissfully unaware of the underworld associations of the conspicuously large yet innocent-seeming shop front. So many people engaged in the joy of each other’s company, laughing and deep in conversation.

It really should have been the perfect night for Ruby and Benny’s first date. Oh, dear reader, if only it had been.

Ruby relished the vibe as she studiously attempted to look super cool, just in case her date saw her before she saw him. From the corner of her eye, she saw a guy edging around in an obvious attempt to get a better look at her without being weird – no easy feat. Her face lit up as she recognised Benny from his profile photos… he was hot in real life!

“Hi!” They both said unison, awkwardly going in for a quick hug.

“Oh wow, how did we manage to coordinate our wardrobe?” Ruby had a big grin as she gestured at his chucks, blue jeans and black bomber jacket, similar to her cute denim skirt and favourite leather jacket. They both laughed.

Things at least seemed to be off to a great start.

They agreed to get a drink at a nearby bar, opting for an old, cracked and cosy couch. Ruby lived nearby and often went to this bar, so she was comfortable and able to enjoy the conversation without the distraction of a new environment. It had crossed her mind more than once that she had perhaps been to that particular bar for too many dates. What she didn’t know was that the bar staff recognised her and would regularly try to guess at the success of her dates, rooting for her to find a keeper. I was rooting for her, too.

After a couple of glasses of red wine, the key moment had arrived – would they get another drink (risky without food, but a low-commitment option), change location to get a meal (likely committing to another hour or two of the date), or would one of them call it quits?

Ruby didn’t know which way she wanted to go. The conversation was flowing for the most part, yet something wasn’t quite right. There was a hint of chemistry and they laughed plenty, but too often there would be a yawning silence in the conversation. Ruby would go blank, lost for words, and unexpectedly unable to recall a single thing about Benny or the online conversations which had led to that moment. They would both look around as if realising that they were lost and needed to ask someone for directions, and Ruby would wonder if it was a sign that they weren’t a good match.

Before the pair could decide on whether to grab another drink, get dinner or go home, time froze. The bar went completely silent. Nothing could be heard from the street and everyone was utterly motionless.

Just imagine if someone made a 3D model of the most unflattering, candid photo possible. Can you picture it? That was the scene. One woman was mid-laugh, her head back and hair in her face. A guy was bent over awkwardly to scratch his leg.

Dear reader, I must say that I never get bored of these hilarious poses. It gets me every time when an angel comes down and hits pause on the world, on people oblivious to it all.

Goran appeared out of thin air in front of Ruby and Benny, stumbling slightly as he landed – to be fair, he had just jumped down from quite a height. He swept his long beige coat aside so that it wouldn’t bump the drinks on the table, managing to put himself slightly off balance with the act.

Our would-be hero swayed slightly as he glanced at Ruby and Benny, his brow furrowed, then looked down at a mechanical instrument clutched between his hands. The fabrica temperatio (or ‘fab’) could have been a glittering empty toilet roll to anyone who could see him fiddling with it. Goran pulled his head back slightly, then forward, squinting and trying to focus on the small dials and switches covering the device. He carefully turned a tiny cog one full rotation, pressed a little blue button, then moved a dial to number 7. His tongue was just showing between the corner of his lips as he made one last tweak, distracted for a second as he tried to stay upright. He grunted, returned his attention to the couple and snapped his fingers.

Everything abruptly came back to life. The woman who had been interrupted mid-laugh was able to finish chuckling and fixed her hair, while the guy with the itch sat up straight again, his leg relieved. Neither of them nor anyone else in the bar was aware that time had stood still that evening. Nobody, including Ruby and Benny, could see Goran as he stood next to the pair, keenly watching to see if his adjustments had worked.

Ruby and Benny looked at their almost empty glasses.

“Another?” Benny asked, sounding hopeful underneath his attempt to appear nonchalant.

Ruby grinned. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Things mostly improved from that point on, as evidenced by the bar hopping, late night burgers, and many more drinks they consumed.

Finally, they were standing outside Ruby’s apartment. The date had been leading to this, but more importantly, this fateful moment was where my story really started.

They both leant in to each other for a kiss… and was terrible! To Ruby, Benny mouth was somehow hard and barely moved, like he didn’t know what to do after their lips touched. She tried to use her lips and tongue to massage his lips, but he just, sort of… Kissed her tongue back?

It was painful even to watch.

They pulled apart and awkwardly looked at each other. One of Benny’s hands was resting on the small of her back while the other hung limply at his side. They mumbled agreement that they had both had a good night. Ruby hesitated and took stock, then bravely went in for another kiss, heroically hoping that the first had just been an accident.

Nope.

How does a kiss even be that bad?

They went their separate ways, equally despondent at such a lacklustre end to the evening.

Goran’s job was to save dates like this, to be a guardian angel of sorts. A cupid whose bow had been upgraded with new fab tech. I say this because you may not have guessed what he was doing, not given his drunken state and subsequent failure to ensure a second date would happen for Ruby and Benny.

Don’t worry, though, this was just the tipping point, right before Goran would turn romance and heaven on its head.

*

Goran hadn’t lingered long enough to see the death knell of what would have been a beautiful, life-long relationship. He had been satisfied enough with the adjustments he had made to his fab, but then grown quickly frustrated with his growing sobriety. Instead of waiting to see if further fixes would be needed, he abandoned his post after the lovers had moved to another bar. He had had a pressing need for another drink of his own.

Goran sat on a park bench by the Maribyrnong river in Footscray. The bright lights of the nearby docks and bridge a few metres away reflected on the calm inky surface of the water. Through unfocused eyes, he watched a duck floating downstream, when Amir appeared in front of him, disturbing his brooding.

“The fuck are you doing?” Amir demanded.

“Sitting.”

“You fucked up another one, you know that, right?”

Goran looked vaguely confused. “What, the hipsters? No way, they were doing great.” Amir’s admonition didn’t sting poor Goran as much this time as it had the first dozen times, back when he had believed that maybe he could finally do something right. Back then, these sorts of comments had felt like a punch in the gut.

“You messed up the basium levels. I don’t know how you did it, seriously, it was so low.” He sat down next to Goran and turned to him, his demeanour softening. “Mate, you can’t keep doing this shit.” He implored.

Goran’s gaze lowered. He pulled out the fab and brought it close to his face so that he could check the settings with his blurry eyes against the dock lights. Sure enough, the basium levels were 2. He must have bumped it while he was getting his balance. “Shit.” he muttered.

“Right.”

Goran slowly lowered the fab. He wanted to be better at this, to believe that he had been allocated this job because he could do it well. The more he failed, though, the harder he found it to care.

“You know I’m fine with you drinking in your own time, but it’s getting in the way of the job.” Amir spoke kindly and firmly.

The river lapped quietly at the edge of the bank and Goran put the fab back in his pocket, looking up to watch a pedestrian walk past the pair with a dog.

“Let me see if I can fix this one. It might be too late, but I’ll try. Liza might have some ideas.” Amir offered. I always liked that guy.

“Thanks.” Goran mumbled, eyes fixed on his feet.

Amir stood up and looked intently at Goran. “Get your shit together.” Then he was gone.

Goran kept staring blankly at his boots. He wasn’t really thinking, just letting waves of frustration and disappointment wash over him. Minutes passed before he slowly leant forward and took a lazy drink from the bottle-shaped paper bag sitting on the ground. There was just something so familiar and wonderfully numbing about alcohol. As he put it down again, he rubbed his calf and wondered, not for the first time, why the ache of a bullet wound would persist in the afterlife.

The memory of being shot prompted him to wince, though not from the pain of the injury. The pain was from recalling the look of shock on the face of his then-girlfriends’ 5-year-old kid. The kid’s dad had turned out to be an abusive fuck with friends in low places. One of Goran’s biggest regrets was that he hadn’t been able to turn things around for the boy. Goran’s sister had been the only one to visit him in hospital after the incident. He should have listened when she warned him off the opiates the hospital had dosed him up on. She had known from her own experience how addictive they could be.

Death had been a relief for our friend Goran. He had become tired of how his ability to sustain work and be clean from drugs were always thwarted by the job losses that come with insecure work, social security claim delays, illness, friends in need, relapses and occasionally getting roped into the dramas and crimes of others. Because, repaying debts was often easier to do through crime than it was with money he didn’t have. In the instant before he knew he was going to die, when the driver of the getaway car he was in lost control, he had been flooded with panic and regret. But this had been immediately followed by an overwhelming sense of release. The never-ending struggle and shame were over.

Sadly, though, the afterlife had just brought a new battle. New failures to humiliate him.

Sitting on that bench as an angel, Goran wondered again: why would any of this pain and these memories be preserved after death? And why recruit people, or ‘angels’, to work at all? The promise of the afterlife was meant to be something akin to retiring to a world of euphoria and peace. Or better yet, blissful nothingness.

Being told that he had been carefully selected to be a lovers’ guardian angel had been such a surprise that he hadn’t thought to question it. What really sucked was that Ruby and Benny were far from his first fuck up. Poor guy felt like he just couldn’t get it right.

So, he drank.

*

Things really turned around for Goran when Maja met Mark.

Maja stared at her beer, wondering how much of it would be acceptable to drink before her date arrived. Attempting to distract herself, she looked around the front bar of the pub and wished she had picked a night when a band was playing. At least that way the evening wouldn’t be wasted if the date didn’t turn out well – and, dear reader, Maja did not have good luck with dates.

Sighing, she pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled through the conversation history she had had with… what was his name? Mark. That’s right, this one was called Mark. She had already forgotten through disinterest.

He had seemed okay to her in their online chats. Not only did he reply to messages, he could hold a conversation. This was as good a reason as any to meet, but chemistry matters a lot, so she wasn’t holding her breath. She cautiously sipped at her beer. It took effort to not down the whole thing and quickly grab another one. It wouldn’t be the first time she had pretended to a date that a pre-drink had never happened. The window to change her mind closed when she made eye contact with Mark, who quickly walked up to her high table.

“Nice, right into it!” He gestured at her drink. “What are you having?”

“Can’t remember what it’s called. The pale ale on tap?”

Mark dashed off to get his own glass, giving Maja the opportunity to check him out. Against the chaotic, dark and grungy atmosphere of the pub, Mark stood out with his clean white shoes, beige slacks and polo shirt. He returned to her table with a grin and sat down opposite. “Great place.” He looked around at the décor without a hint of sarcasm, pulling a long drink from his glass. “Good choice.”

Oh lord, Maja thought to herself. He’s spineless. Or he could be oblivious? Maybe he genuinely doesn’t mind when he doesn’t fit in? While this would actually be pretty respectable, Maja suspected from his chat conversations that he was simply just an agreeable person and wouldn’t let on if he felt discomfort. And agreeableness wasn’t her cup of tea.

The room froze.

I’ll save you from descriptions of pub patrons mid-conversation, I think you can picture it well enough. Suffice to say, I was entertained once again at the picture.

Just as it had been for Ruby and Benny, everything was motionless when Goran and Amir appeared beside Maja and Mark’s table.

“Okay.” Amir said to Goran. “You’ve had opportunity enough to get yourself sorted, I hope, but let’s take our time with this one.”

Goran stared wide eyed at Maja. He nodded very slowly to acknowledge that Amir had spoken, though he had in no way heard what had been said.

“These two seem to be well matched, so let’s see how we can get the romance going.” Amir continued, walking around to give the would-be love birds a good eye-balling. He didn’t notice Goran’s lack of attention. “She seems a bit prickly, so let’s turn up Mark’s kindness mood, get through her armour.” Amir looked back at Goran, who was still firmly fixed on Maja. “Goran? You remembering this from training?”

Goran briefly looked at Amir, then back at Maja. “I don’t think your textbook shit will work in this case.”

Amir frowned. It was rare for the system to get afterlife vocations wrong, but Amir’s face was full of doubt. What Amir didn’t know was that he was about to witness when that system finally came into its own. When Goran finally came into his own.

Amir pulled out his fab and peered closely, examining the case of Maja and Mark, panicked realisation slowly crossing his face.

“Shit.” Amir looked up at Goran, who took a step closer to Maja. “Ah, fuck.” He zapped the pair out of the bar, leaving Maja and Mark to their date.

Just so you know, the date didn’t turn out well for either of them. Buying a woman like Maja a tacky rose from a street vendor? Please…

*

“I didn’t know Maja was your sister. That shouldn’t have happened, I’m so sorry.” Amir appealed to Goran, standing back on the bank of the Maribyrnong River where they had spoken after the Ruby-Benny incident. “We’re not supposed to be exposed to people from our pasts, as you know, let alone assigned to them. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“She looked well.” Goran said softly, slumping down on the bench.

Amir didn’t respond immediately. “Yeah…”

“Last I saw her, she was in rehab after ODing on heroin.”

“Right. Well… I suppose she looked pretty good, then.”

“You know, that textbook garbage isn’t going to work on her.” Goran looked up at Amir through dark, limp hair. “She’s wild. Sometimes it gets out of hand, but she needs novelty along with security. Not some buttoned up guy like the dude you thought she was matched with back there.”

“Maybe she’s changed since you saw her? Besides, when we intervene, we have a 60% success rate.” Amir defended the system with a standard line. “They are good odds!”

“Mate, I’m telling you, you’re way off with her.” That was when it dawned on Goran that maybe he wasn’t the fuck up. Dates weren’t failed by a lack of romantic set-up, by some rom-com story line, they failed because they needed excitement…

This was my favourite bit, when Goran realised that he wasn’t the problem – the bullshit romantic script was the issue. Even recalling it now brings a smile to my face.

“I gotta go.”

Amir blinked and Goran was gone.

*

“I know it’s unconventional, just hear me out.” Amir stood before an elevated podium with three people, all wearing the same expression of furrowed brows, pursed lips and clenched jaws. Amir wrung his hands nervously and looked around the circular meeting table at the foot of the podium. He had never had to present to the board and he never imagined that he would be doing so in order to petition a total change to the system. “This guardian angel has improved our success rate to 68%, and that figure is just getting better as we perfect his technique.”

See? Good guy, our Amir.

“What ‘technique’?” One of the lesser imaginative panellists scathed. “His approach is nothing more than chaos!”

“Well, sure, I can see why you might–”

“This guardian.” Another panellist interrupted, emphasising the word ‘guardian’ as though he was looking at a beat-up Camry when he expected to see a red Porsche. “He is turning nice, normal dates into a joke! What’s wrong with having a drink in a place where the two people feel comfortable and can get along? What happened to the old town fair? Nothing more exciting than a show ride, in my opinion.”

“There’s nothing wrong as such…” Amir said slowly, cautiously. “It’s just that it doesn’t work as well as Goran’s technique.”

“He put a bomb in a taxi! And turned a restaurant into a hostage situation!” Shouted the first panellist.

If they could only hear how loudly I chuckled.

“One couple went missing for days!” Echoed the second.

The first panellist was about to speak again, but the adjudication was interrupted by a voice from the other side of the room sitting at the head of the table opposite the podium.

“It doesn’t matter what we think of the technique.” Her voice was calm and measured, and easily commanded the attention, if unwillingly, of the panellists. “Goran’s technique may mean some dates end up in the emergency department, with people telling remarkable stories to their friends, or some introverts swearing off dating ever again. But…” she took several confident steps closer to the podium, seeming to look down on the panellists despite her being at a lower height. “Times change. So, we will adapt.

*

Goran stood over Lenny and James, frozen in time, with a vaguely thoughtful expression on his face. The couple were statues standing in mid-sentence, eyes on a café and contemplating which table they would sit down at. Goran was about to save them both from the inevitable polite ‘where would you like to sit’ ‘oh, I don’t mind, where would you like to sit’ tedium. But how?

After a bit of thought, a smile lifted the corner of Goran’s mouth as he imagined what would make Maja laugh. His expression turned mischievous as he furtively looked up at the pair, then back down again. He confidently made his adjustments on the fab, quickly moving one cog here, pressing the tiny yellow button, then rotating the device to turn a small dial on the other side.

Goran was finally in his element. Oh yes, this date was going to end with a great story.

And his revolution of love was in full swing.