Locked Out

An old man named Oliver and and a young woman named Olive lived side by side for six years and shared not a word. They might as well have been from opposite ends of the world, and felt no urge to make it any different. They have nothing in common, not one bit, except for tonight.

Olive felt a string of relief when he saw Oliver, dressed in pajamas, come out to his balcony, holding a large case. After three hours of being locked out of hers, Oliver looked to her like an apparation. Olive bolted upright “SIR!”

Paying no mind to the woman, Oliver held his cane in one hand, and stretched out his lawn chair with the other. He went back to his home, and came back out the balcony, with a coffee in hand, hoping the woman would be gone.

“Could you help me?” Annoyed by her persistence, Oliver sighed and looked over the balcony to his left where the loud woman was standing. Before Olive could say another word, Oliver bursted out laughing, realizing what had happened to the woman.

“I got locked out sir.” Olive said

“Obviously” Oliver said, rolling his eyes.

Already, Olive was not liking the old man. Desperate, however, she continued “Could you call the lobby, they might have a spare key.” Olive said, “Please.”

Dismissing, Oliver waved at her and said “731-4453, call ‘em yourself”

“Left my phone inside” Olive replied

“What kind of millenial are you?” Oliver started for the door, and jiggled it a few times, nothing. He jiggled it more violently, still, nothing.

Olive jerked when she heard the old man kick the door, and sit back down his lawn chair. Olive buried her face in her palms, and they both sat in silence, realizing they’d have to spend the night out on the balcony.

Breaking the silence Olive said “Hey there”. Oliver scoffed.

“So, you got locked out, huh? Olive said “Been there”

”Shut up” Oliver said.

“I’m gonna miss the concert. For the first time, I’m gonna miss it. Well, c’est la vie, right” Olive said

“You know, me and my little brother, he was 7 at the time, we used to sneak in all the time. We used to come there at least once a year cause my brother wanted to play the violin. He was obsessed with this violinist at the back of the orchestra. Every night, he’d play an air violin together with them. He was imagining himself on that stage with the whole lot. There’s this little door at the back of the stage, this bald big guy Rick, always let us in. We called him cookie monster. He was cool, he gets it. One day, though, he just left. My brother and I just stay outside the concert hall to try and listen to the faint music. My brother was, odf course, uber disappointed — got mad at Rick for a while”

“Rick?” Oliver replied “Always wears blue, had a lisp?”

“Yeah, exactly, you know him?” asked Olive

“Yeah I know Rick” 

Oliver stood up, picked up a stone from one of the pots and started throwing it to the next balcony. “What are you doing?” Olive asked. No reply.

“Maybe that’s why people don’t like you.” Olive said. Oliver paused upon hearing this, then threw one final stone before sitting back down. Oliver closed his eyes, and fell asleep after two minutes.

Oliver woke up when a bird sat on his head. He swatted the little fella, and cursed under his breath. 

“You’re not even good with pets. You’re just a grumpy old man, aren’t you?” Olive chuckled.

“How’d you know Rick?”

“My friend’s son.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“He’d understand if you can’t be there — in the concert” Oliver said

“Oh. No, my brother? He’s gone ten years. Car accident with my grandma” Olive said

The darkness and the silence felt heavy that night. Oliver and Olive, though both tired, could not sleep. Oliver was preoccupied with the memory of the cookie monster. Twelve years ago, he saw a man letting in two children through the back of the concert hall. He does this every week, and Oliver decided enough was enough. This isn’t charity, he thought. Having enough power, he fired the cookie monster. His wife always thought he was cruel for doing this, saying “Darling, why do you close people off from beautiful things” The kids came less frequently after that, but only always behind the door, their ears pressing on the door. He never thought much of it — ‘til today.

Olive thought about her brother and how much beauty he could have done, if not for that night that took his life. Granted, he could not play the violin just yet, he sure had the soul of a musician. She remembered the slight curve of his lips, and the way his eyelids rested when he was playing his air violin. His eyebrows scrunched in the middle, in deep concentration, then relax. It was as if he was floating in a sea of music. It was astonishing how he could drown out the sound of traffic in that alley, when frankly that’s all Olive could hear. She could barely remember how the orchestra sounded like, but she could never forget the way his brother grinned after the music. “It’s amazing, Olive! Please, please, please promise me, we’ll go when you get the money.” Olive said yes, and she meant it. Life, however, always gets in the way.

“The sun’d come up in a while, Mrs. Dollan would come out to the balcony in two hours, don’t worry. We’ll ask her to call the lobby.” Olive said.

“Sorry you missed it — the concert” Oliver said.

“C’est la vie. I’m Olive, by the way.”

“Oliver.”

They chuckled.

Oliver opened the case he brought out with him — the one he brought out to the balcony with all the intention to play it, but never did. The voice of his wife fell on his ear like a snowflake. He took the violin out of its case, and started playing the most beautiful notes. Tears started to well up on Olive’s eyes. All at once, she saw her brother dancing with his air violin beside the old man. 

Olive and Oliver were two different souls, their lives almost always entwined by a violin, but almost always quite missing like fate’s unfinished business.

As the sun peaked through the windows, and glistened like stage lights, the shut doors opened, and the melody poured out like a beautifully aged wine on a special night.