I met him in some pub on some evening, sitting by the bar in the stool next to mine and downing a large glass of whiskey. He didn’t look particularly impressive – he had faded blond curls, five-o’clock shadows and a pair of sad, blue-grey misty eyes, and was clad in a battered, dusty leather trenchcoat - of the sort detectives used to wear in those black-and-white movies from the thirties - and a matching hat. On one hand, he seemed to really fit the place. On the other hand, it almost seemed as if he didn’t belong in this world, in the 21st century - almost as if time had stopped for him as it rushed forward for everyone else.
He surveyed the room somewhat glumly, at first. Then he turned his eyes to me and said “I remember you. And I thought I really hit the bullseye this time… Seems like I screwed up big-time with you too, eh?”
I suppose I rolled my eyes or something to that effect – just another poor sod that had too much - or too little - to drink.
“And she seemed to be JUST your type, too.” He continued “But I suppose it just didn’t last... Too many changes in both of your attitudes lately. Oh well, I should be getting used to it, I suppose. My accuracy is definitely not what it used to be back when I was a young whippersnapper… A few hours ago, right?”
How the hell did he know that? How the hell did he know that just a few hours ago, one of the most amazing relationships that I have ever had has come to an end, a relationship that gave me back the hope that I may not end up alone forever after all - and that eventually blew up in my face like Hiroshima?
“Just who are you,” I stared at him “And how in oblivion do you know all that?”
He smiled sadly “Amazing, the way people don’t recognize me today. Well, they say that the age of romance has ended, I suppose that they're right. Ah well… As for who I am, you can call me Cue. It would make life a lot easier for both of us. As for the other question… Well, you can say that I am always aware of what happens to the people that I've brought together.”
“I’ve never seen you before in my life, and I've most definitely
haven't seen you when I first met her.” I told him. It was
quite probable that he was absolutely drunk, or out of his mind…
but perhaps not? Something in those mist-colored eyes of his was too clear.
Un-naturally lucid.
“I am only visible when I wish to be.” He said, taking another
sip of his whiskey “After all, my line of work would have been a
lot more difficult if people saw me hanging around in the background all
the time. It would have certainly bothered quite a few of them, and I
really don’t think that I would enjoy being arrested. It is true
that nothing can stand in the way of true love, but bureaucracy always
tends to make things more complicated.”
“So, basically you’re some kind of a disgruntled matchmaker?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, I would have defined myself as more of a sharpshooter, but you could say that I am history’s most famous matchmaker - and that I’ve managed to score many classic love stories when I was a young little devil. But, what is one to do? My vision, apparently, is not what it used to be. They don’t say that love is blind for no reason.” He grimaced “Truth is, I’m not really sure that it’s actually my fault, as they say. People are just more dynamic nowadays. They don’t have the patience to overcome their difficulties together. They are ever-changing, you know, and when it doesn’t work out, it’s easier to break the bundle apart, as they say, rather than try and work on keeping it together. My mother figured that out long ago – that’s why she retired and is making a fortune on TV nowadays. Not using her real name of course.” He stopped, taking another swig and chuckled “She wasn’t counting on that side of television if you know what I mean. No, she usually portrays the role of herself in mythology dramas - still looks like she did when she was twenty-two, and she’s a few millions of years old, too. Lucky bastard-ette, that Aphrodite is.”
I stared at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out where the heck has my sanity gone to. Or his sanity. Or both. He noticed the gaze I shot him – but he didn’t look hurt or offended. Only a little more sad.
“So, I grew a couple of years older and left my bow at home, and already people don’t recognize me. Most of them think that I died a long time ago. A few think that I’m an illusion. The few that still believe in me often find themselves alone after all and they stop believing too. It ain’t easy, this line of work.”
Then, he took the last swig of his whiskey, smiled a little, and stood up with grace that his appearance did not betray at first – he moved as if he hasn't touched alcohol at all. Then, he took off his hat, revealing a face that looked exceptionally familiar after all – even though the eternal child-face it was before have clearly matured under the effects of time. He put the hat to his heart and nodded softly in my direction.
“But nevertheless, I try. I am sorry for your loss – No one knows how difficult it is to lose a loved one as I do. Part of the job description, you know. But – something tells me that I will see you again someday. And next time, I hope, I wouldn’t miss too much."
And as he turned and silently walked towards the exit, I’ve noticed the tears at the back of his coat for the first time - and through these tears, only barely, I could see a pair of wings with pearly, pinkish-white feathers wrapped tightly around his body, and a single arrow that was embedded in his belt – red feathers on one side, and a ruby arrowhead on the other – sharp at its tip and curving gracefully at its back.
A red heart.
“I have got to stop going to these places.” I think I heard him mumble before he left – though it may have just been my imagination “It ain't an easy thing for a matchmaker forever destined to loneliness, to see so many unsatisfied customers in one place.