The Guardian Angel

by Liam Livings

  “When are they going to let you know?” she asked.

  “Not until Monday morning, so I’ve got to wait all weekend. Bummer, eh?”

  “Tell you what, let’s do something together tonight. Let’s make cocktails and cookie dough and have a slumber party.”

  “I might be gay, but I’m not a teenage girl. Slumber party, where did you get this from?”

  “Oh, spoilsport, I thought you’d like it. Come on, it’ll be fun. Come round mine, eh?”

  Could I tell her about Sky? Do I want to tell her?

  Once I told her, that would be it. Once you tell someone a secret, it’s no longer a secret, no matter what they say. I still wasn’t ready to share that particular secret with anyone. Partly because I liked having that secret to myself and partly because I knew I ran the risk of being sectioned. Sky was my guardian angel, and I didn’t have to share him if I didn’t want to. “If they call, I’ll let you know, okay. Otherwise I’m just going to have a quiet night at home. Alone.”

  “You all right, Richard?”

  “I’m getting there. You know what, I think I am going to be all right.”

  “You sure? You’re not going to get sad and lonely tonight?”

  “For God’s sake, I try to kill myself that one time, and now this is what I get whenever I want to be alone.”

  “I’m not letting it happen on my watch again, all right?”

  “You can’t watch me every minute of every day. You are not my keeper. I am my keeper, and I’m fine. Honestly.”

  “Call me Saturday, okay?”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  “I know. And I love you too.”

  “And Richard, you’re fabulous. You know that, don’t you? Just as you are, you’re fabulous.”

  And she was gone.

  I left the coffee shop, desperately looking for a white feather, but finding none. Then I made my way home.

  As I walked out of Tufnell Park Tube station, my phone beeped for voicemail. Bound to be Amy or Mum asking how things were. I ignored it, pulled my jacket around my neck and quickly walked back to my flat.

  I dropped my briefcase by the door and peeled off my jacket, letting it drop too, and climbed into bed, exhausted.

  I had a dream that Sky had returned, because I spent an inappropriate amount of time fantasising about his Greek statue-like body and what I’d do to it if only I could touch it. He appeared in my bedroom as I lay, tenting my trousers.

  “What, pray, do you call that?” he asked, standing next to my bed, all man skirt and muscles.

  “I thought you said you knew when to look the other way.”

  “I thought I’d make this an exception.”

  “What are you back for, then? Is it because I rubbed the feathers in the pint glass?”

  “I don’t know what you think I am, but I’m not a genie and that’s not a lamp. You can’t summon me. It doesn’t work like that.”

  “Oh, that’s not fair, what if I want to tell you something?”

  “You can do that any time you want,” he said. “I can see and hear you whenever I want.” He folded his big muscular arms across his chest.

  I imagined myself getting lost in his chesticles.

  “So what did you think of the last few days? Good stuff, eh?” Sky smiled at me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The shoe shop, the graduate job interview, the weather, all that.”

  “You did all that? You control the weather too, so you are some sort of god.”

  “It’s not just me. I work with what you have too.”

  “What, do you mean, you work with me, so it’s not just you?” I had no idea what he was talking about, and his bare chest wasn’t helping my concentration. “Can’t you just jump on the bed with me, so I can see you a bit closer? That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

  He nodded and walked over to the bed, then sat on it. Up-close his body looked even better than before. “Where was I?” he asked.

  “You work with what I have….”

  He snapped his fingers, and I caught a glimpse of his left nipple. “I use the skills and abilities you have, but I make sure they stand the best chance of being useful. So I couldn’t make you fly, because you can’t fly. But since you’re pretty clever and you researched the bank well, I made sure all that was made the best use of in the interview. I ensured they asked you questions about things you would know.”

  “So it’s cheating?”

  “Did you know you were going to be asked those questions beforehand?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Did you only learn about those things, or did you also learn other things, too, that didn’t come up in the interview?”

  “You know the answer to that one.”

  “So it wasn’t cheating, then. Cheating is when you know the exact questions and only learn the answers to those.”

  “I see. Seems a bit sneaky to me, though.”

  He shrugged. “But it wouldn’t have worked if you hadn’t done any prep for the interview. If you literally knew nothing about the bank, I wouldn’t have had anything to work with. You gave me plenty to work with.”

  “And do I get the job?”

  “What are you asking me that for? I can’t see into the future, you know. The handbook is very strict about predicting the future. It is forbidden in all circumstances.”

  “So you could, if you wanted to, but you won’t.” I was very excited at this prospect.

  “Actually, I can’t, as I’ve not done it before. But also, I won’t, as it’s prohibited. Strictly prohibited.”

  We chatted for a while, about the last few days and how I felt now, since the hospital. He asked me if I’d checked my phone lately.

  I looked at the phone on my bedside cabinet. One voicemail was unopened. “I was too tired when I got back, and then I fell asleep. Actually, hang on a minute, isn’t this a dream? I fell asleep and you appeared. This whole thing is going to be a dream. I just know it. I hate that when they do that in books and films. It’s my number one irritating thing.”

  “Slap your face, then walk to the window,” Sky said.

  “Are you into that, a bit of slapping and whipping, eh?” I winked at him.

  “Just do it, will you?” He was not impressed by my little joke.

  I slapped my face—hard—and nearly knocked myself out. Still seeing stars, I walked to the window. Outside, the sky was dark and a flow of traffic continued along the Holloway Road. I looked up and saw the moon, full in the sky.

  That’s it, now I know this is a dream. You’d only dream of a full moon, otherwise it would be part of a moon—this is far too perfect.

  “Go to the kitchen and open the fridge,” he ordered.

  I obeyed and found the fridge had the leftovers of a takeaway I’d bought a few nights before.

  Sky’s voice was behind me now. “Any dragons in there? Any monsters’ heads? Nothing out of the ordinary?”

  I shook my head.

  “Tonight actually is a full moon, you dimwit. It just so happens I’m here at the same time. And before you ask, the two things have no connection at all. It’s nothing to do with werewolves or anything like that. I just wanted to see you tonight, after the two days you’ve had. Simple.”

  Slowly grasping what he said, I closed the fridge and looked at him. “So I’m not asleep?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m awake, and you’re here again, stood in front of me in my kitchen?”

  “Pretty much. I’d say that’s right so far.”

  “And is this allowed in your handbook thingy?”

  “Of course. Nothing wrong here.”

  “And do guardian angels often visit their humans like this, or only on special occasions?”

  “Depends.” He paused, looking to the ceiling, deep in thought.

  I turned back to the fridge and put a spoonful of chicken korma into my mouth, then replied, through a mouthful of curry, “On what?”

  “
On how the human reacts to seeing the angel. Some of you lot become all freaked out, so it’s best not to repeat it. Some of you are much more chilled out, like you are now.”

  I chewed the curry thoughtfully, then made a balancing motion with my hands. “I wouldn’t go so far as saying I’m chilled out. ‘Quietly panicking’ is probably a bit more accurate.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “So, ghosts—where do they fit in? Is it like in the film, with the potter’s wheel?”

  “Now I know that is definitely a conversation we’re not allowed to have.” He smiled, flashing his perfect teeth, and crossed his arms in front of his chest again.

  I leant out to touch him, but my hand went straight through.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Not much I can do about that, I’m afraid. So, anyway, that voice mail, did you check it?”

  I listened to my phone. The bank offered me a position in their graduate training scheme to start in a month, after they had checked references and other “HR procedures,” blah-de-blah.

  “Did you know I’d got it?” I looked at him as I put my phone down.

  “I’ve already told you I can’t see into the future.”

  “Okay, so what can we talk about? Because I’m completely awake and really hungry all of a sudden. I’d offer you something to eat, but I’m guessing you don’t eat, since you’re not physical when you’re down here with me.”

  “You’re learning. There’s plenty of stuff we can talk about, plenty.”

  Chapter 9

  We stayed up all night. I drank and ate, and Sky just watched me. All the while both of us were talking, talking, talking. I told him about Amy and how I worried about her future and what she’d do if she stayed at The Music and Video Shop.

  “There is someone looking after her.” He smiled serenely.

  “Can you get a message to them, tell whoever it is to really pay attention to Amy? She’s let things slide for a while, not worried about herself, and now she’s paying for it.”

  Sky shook his head slowly and opened the Guardian Angel’s Handbook and began reading. “Communication between guardian angels about human beings they are not allocated to is strictly prohibited.” He looked up from the leather-bound handbook. “Pretty clear, isn’t it? Sorry.”

  “But—”

  “Someone is looking after her. That is all. Let’s talk about you.”

  “And you?”

  “If you want.”

  “I have so much hope invested in this graduate job at the bank. I really hope it lives up to it. Will it?”

  He put his hands up to me. “Like I said, I can’t see into the future.”

  “What about you, these sabbaticals? How many can you go on in a year? What sorts of things do you do on them?”

  He explained about the sabbaticals, and it sounded like a celestial foreign exchange student programme. “The angels exchange which human they’re looking after, to give them experience of different emotions, different situations. But sometimes the sabbaticals might be just to study, no swapping. We take time off from the normal day job, and go to study. Some even use it for a leave of absence, but that’s very rare, and only for the older guardian angels. It’s normally frowned upon, and rejected if you’re younger.” He looked away and chewed his cheek.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re having time away from the day job, from the actual reason you exist, to just do… to do nothing, essentially. It’s not bettering your skills to bring back to your assigned human. It’s just time to sit about….”

  “Polishing your halo on a passing cloud?”

  “Something like that, yes. Do you do similar things with your jobs here?”

  I shrugged. “I think so. I’ve never had a job where it was an option. Moving from hourly pay to a monthly salary is a big step. Sabbaticals, I think, are a while off, but now you’ve mentioned it, I suppose I would like to see all the different sorts of banking there are and then choose. I don’t know what I might like until I’ve tried it, eh?”

  “True enough, Richard. You know I said my favourite colour is blue?”

  “What about it?”

  “That stuff in the bath—water. How come it’s sometimes blue, and sometimes you can see through it?” He looked at me hopefully.

  “One of those things you’re just not necessarily meant to understand. I think it’s something to do with how the light reflects, or something. Anyway, what’s so interesting about water?”

  “I wondered what it feels like to touch. I’d love to feel it on my skin. If I could feel anything, I’d want water to be one of the first things I felt. Obviously it would be nice to touch you, to stroke your hair and your face. But only for the feeling, of course, like the water.”

  “And that’s not possible?”

  He shook his head, then walked into my wardrobe, through the door, and shouted, “Can you see me now?”

  “Gone.”

  He walked through the wardrobe and reappeared. “It’s not really here for me. None of it.” He gestured around the room.

  I tried to explain what water felt like, which, after a short while, I realised was very difficult, especially if the person you were explaining it to has never felt anything at all.

  “Thanks for trying.” He smiled.

  I told him about my slaggy period during uni and the last time I’d slept with someone, and he listened without interruption and asked what I thought and wanted now.

  No one had ever asked me this before, and I’d not really considered it either. I chewed a mouthful of by now cold pizza I’d rescued from the fridge, then replied, “I don’t know. I do know I don’t want more of what I had before, because that’s not satisfying any longer. Maybe now I’m getting a bit older, I have a different itch to scratch.”

  “And what sort of itch is that now?’ Sky asked, smiling, as he lay down on the bed next to me.

  “I want something more satisfying, something where I really connect with another person. I don’t want the only thing I talk about to be whether I’m a top or a bottom or if either of us is into water sports! I don’t think sex can be boiled down to basics in that way. I don’t think people are ever really only a top or a bottom—that makes you pick and ignore all the other things you may like sexually. I think gay men, like all people, like labels, because it makes life—the world—easier to understand. Once you put someone in a particular box, it’s easier to think about them and try to predict what they’ll like. Unfortunately, although people like putting others in boxes, most people don’t neatly fit into one box. Humans are much more complicated than that. Don’t you think?”

  “Having watched you, and the other humans, I’m inclined to agree. We don’t get a list of categories to fit our humans into, we just work with you whatever comes up.”

  “So you can see the people we interact with?”

  “Course. Otherwise how are we supposed to protect you, to guide you?”

  “Good point.” I was conscious of talking far too much, and now feeling a bit tired, as the sun started to rise outside the window. “What about you, what are you interested in? Your friends—do you have other guardian angels you’re friends with?”

  Sky told me about how they aren’t born as such, but start their existence. Then the Higher Ones assigned them a human to look after, to guide through their lives. Sky explained how painful it could be when an angel moved on from one human to another, suddenly.

  “Why would they do that?” I asked.

  “Depends on the situation. A variety of reasons. It could be for ignoring one of the rules in the Handbook, or maybe you weren’t doing the job particularly well—the person had a run of bad luck that just never let up. Or maybe you’re doing the job too well—”

  “Too well? What does that mean?”

  “Say the human never gets a cold, and every job interview they go for, they get. Every time they arrive at a train station, their train is just waiting. They turn up at a bus stop, and within a
minute their bus is there. They take exams and pass them all—although they would have had to revise, as I explained before. Basically, they just sail through life, making small waves but not really having any difficulties or storminess. That’s too good. That’s too easy. Understand?”

  I nodded, taking it all in, thinking of people I’d known who fitted that description.

  Sky continued talking, explaining how he was really interested in energy, chi, and healing, despite it being frowned upon up there. “They don’t control what goes on in here.” He tapped his head. “So I keep it to myself most of the time.” He smiled.

  “But what about religion. Where does that fit in with what you do?” I was confused, and intrigued.

  “I definitely can’t talk to you about that. If you want to talk religion, you can speak to a priest, vicar, rabbi, or whoever is the spiritual guide for your religion. But not me.” He made a zipping motion across his mouth. “My lips are sealed.” He smiled, his perfect white teeth showing out from his blowjob lips.

  I followed the squareness of his jaw from behind his ear, down to his chest. His perfectly chiselled, hairless chest. “And what’s the deal with the body hair? It’s partly quite sexy and partly a bit odd.”

  Sky shrugged. “Like I said, I’m not a human. I’m not a man. I just look like a man in many ways, but not in others.”

  “Do you have to shave?”

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere, but particularly on your face. Does hair grow there if you don’t shave?”

  He shook his head. “It’s like it is now. Same with this hair.” He pulled the hair on his head. “It’s like this all the time. Unless I want to change it, and then it just changes.” His hair changed style from a short crop to an ear-length pair of straight blond curtains. “How’s this?”

  “A bit nineties boy band. I think I preferred it before.”

  He changed his hair back, then looked around my bedroom. “This place, your home, it is important to you isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You take time to think about how it is in here. It is a place you come to recharge and hide from harsh things that happen out there.” He pointed to the window.