The Opera
Anne was standing near the staircase in the lobby of the opera house. Her eyes followed the people hurrying along the white marble stairs, eager to find their friends and acquaintances as it was important to remember to mingle. Or so her father kept telling her. She sighed as she spotted the man himself quietly speaking to her sister, Anne long forgotten from their minds unless she was needed. That meant a few more minutes of blissful peace. However, Anne’s peace lasted a mere half a minute more before she noticed that Olavi had walked in.
Anne felt out of breath. He looked so good in his dark suit, like he owned the place. Of course, to anyone else, his suit’s cut was a bit too old-fashioned and his shoes were not up to par to the other men walking towards the bar upstairs. Anne pondered on the last quick conversation they’d had. She couldn’t forget the words he had uttered in the taxi to Liisa’s parent’s home after the accident. You were the only one I could trust to handle the situation. Then he had glanced at her with something akin to pain and longing. Rationally, Anne knew it was mere foolish hope. Even now, she could not help but to follow him with her eyes, wishing he’d turn to look at her. Wishing, hoping, that he’d notice her – see her.
He had almost walked past her when she found her voice.
“Olavi” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at her.
“Anne. I didn’t know you were coming here tonight.”
“Ah, well, I wasn’t supposed to, but my father wants me to provide a detailed translation during the interlude to our relations.”
Anne could not help but notice the slight smirk Olavi seemed to be fighting. Their conversation paused before he noted, “And there’s nobody more capable than you. Did you do a course on this one or did you study it for your own enjoyment?”
Had it been anyone else, she would have concluded that she was being made mockery of. But it was Olavi, and he would never be cruel to her. She had, once upon a time as they had laid on his bed and the late summer sun had caressed them, shared with him how she not only studied the plays and operas assigned for courses, but had found a love for them outside the dusty classrooms. He had not laughed at her, instead he had surprised her by bringing her hand to his lips and whispering how she was way out of his league.
Bitterness and shame burned her throat as the memory concluded. The truth was that she and her family were the ones who could never come near his level. He was everything, the brightest star in the sky and she a mere pheasant dressed in silks.
Suddenly, an arm sneaked around her shoulders, startling her. Olavi’s gaze settled on the seemingly casual way she was being embraced, missing how still she had gone.
“Vaahtera, my man! I did not bid you to be one for the opera. You always seemed much more interested in hobbies more… physical.”
There was no mistaking the stab Vili had given Olavi, who in turn had turned into the stoic version of himself Anne had learned to know recently. As the shock of being embraced dissipated, Anne stepped out of Vili’s reach. He, however, seemed not to mind her escape and smiled ever so brightly at Olavi.
“Once upon a time I used to come more often. I wanted to see if it still held the same charm,” Olavi answered, stealing a quick glance of Anne from the corner of his eye.
“Well, I hope this time will not disappoint you too badly,” Vili laughed and turned to Anne “We should head up to our seats, your father informed me that your services are needed already. I have to say, I cannot wait to understand this opera better, we are to be seated next to each other so you can explain everything to me as the show goes on!”
“I would advice against such a thing, it would not only disturb the other guests around you guys, but take from Anne’s enjoyment,” Olavi said before turning to take his leave.
“Olavi.”
Anne’s voice seemed to stop him in his tracks again. “I hope to see you later.” tonight was left unsaid but hung heavy on the air between them.
“Yes, yes, of course you will, but Anne, we must go now, I wouldn’t want to disappoint your father.” Vili hurried to say in a sickly-sweet tone and directed her away from Olavi.
Anne had yet to see Olavi anywhere. She was forced to spend the first half of the intermission explaining in detail the plot of the first two acts to her relations. She was only able to escape under the guise of needing to use the powder room before the opera commenced. She regretted not persuading her aunt to switch seats with her as all throughout the play Vili had kept leaning in a bit too close and whispering in her ear. Before the lights had dimmed, she had tried to find Olavi, but he was nowhere in the orchestra. As Anne moved briskly across the bar area, praying that he had not yet returned to his seat, she noticed him walking towards the stairs and the cloakroom. The panicked fear that he might be leaving made her take a few hurried steps until she caught his arm.
“Olavi, I…” she hadn’t thought about what she would say. “How did you enjoy the first two acts? I didn’t see you in the orchestra, do you have a good seat?”
“The seat I have is great, I can see well the whole auditorium,” Olavi muttered, refusing to look up from where her hand was still resting on his bicep. “I just didn’t find the contents of it to be too captivating.”
The little gasp Anne let out echoed in the staircase. Most other people had left to find their seats as the first bell had warned them about the opera continuing soon. “Are you not returning for the last acts?” she whispered. Olavi finally looked at her and held her gaze for what felt like eternity, the spell being broken only by the final warning chime.
“I… There’s nothing worth staying for,” he finally said, wrenching himself out of Anne’s reach and continuing down the stairs.
Anne breathed in the tears she felt burning the corners of her eyes and hurried back to her seat. She ignored Vili’s questions of what took her so long as the auditorium dimmed again.
