Strings

by Megan Edwards

  The moment our eyes met, Olivia stopped smiling. She slipped off the table, and set down her Coke. Seeing the purpose in her face, Bill and the two freshmen hung back.

  “Olivia, you were—” I began, but she laid a finger against my lips before I could say another word.

  “I need to talk to you, Ted,” she said. “In private. Go to the secret garden now, and I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  It was the usual plan, designed to keep us from getting caught breaking school rules. I lingered a few moments after Olivia blended back into the party and then made my unobtrusive escape to the enclosure next to the maintenance building. I sat down on the grass, leaned back against the stucco wall, and waited.

  I hadn’t been sitting there more than five minutes when I heard the soft sound of Olivia’s feet on the pathway. As it always did at her approach, my heart began to beat a little faster. I rose to my feet as she slipped between the juniper tree and the hedge, and I held out my arms as she moved toward me.

  “Olivia,” I whispered, “I—”

  “Shh,” she replied. “We have to be extra quiet. I saw Mr. Gillespie on my way over here, walking his dog in this direction.”

  Puck deserved a walk. Defying all who feared he’d suffer a nervous breakdown on stage, he had performed admirably in the footlights.

  We sat down quietly and waited for the jingle of dog tags to pass. Olivia spoke first.

  “Ted,” she said, and I heard the seriousness in her tone immediately. “Ted, I—”

  I tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

  “I have to tell you something.”

  My heart stopped. It already knew this was bad.

  “Ted, we can’t see each other anymore.”

  Was I hearing right? I stared at her in the dark.

  “I’m going back to the party, but I wanted to tell you in private.”

  I’m going back to the party? I was too stunned to say anything for a moment. Olivia started to get up, but I grabbed her arm.

  “Wait!”

  She sat back down and hugged her knees.

  “Why? What did I do? What’s wrong?”

  Olivia was silent for a moment or two.

  “Everything’s wrong, Ted. You. Your parents. Your friends. Your violin. Everything.”

  What was she talking about?

  “I love you, Olivia.”

  “Well—” She paused a moment, her chin resting on her knees. “I don’t love you.”

  This time I didn’t try to stop her when she stood up.

  “I hate you,” she said. “You’re a liar and a cheater.”

  The words cut into me like a blade. What was she talking about? What had I done? A horrible silence fell between us. I stood up, but it was too dark for me to see her face.

  “And you’re a snob.”

  I still didn’t know what to say, and after a couple more wrenching moments, Olivia turned on her heel, slipped between the shrubs, and disappeared.

  I just stood there, unwilling to believe that my world had just been shattered. What had I done? Finally, I made my way back to my room and threw myself on my bed without taking off my clothes. If I slept that night, I don’t remember it.

  Chapter 14

  The next morning, still in shock, I forced myself to shower in time to meet my parents. They picked me up at ten, and somehow I managed to survive brunch at the Ojai Valley Hunt Club and a drive to Santa Barbara afterwards. My mother insisted, saying that it was our last chance to do it as a family.

  “Things will be too hectic after graduation, Ted,” she said. “And after that, we won’t have a good excuse to come here anymore.”

  When I got back to campus, I immediately headed for Olivia’s house. It was against school rules for me to go there without an invitation from Olivia’s mother, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything except getting Olivia to talk to me. I had to find out why she was so angry. What had I done? How could I get her back? At the very least, I told myself, she owed me an explanation.

  Eleanor’s station wagon was parked next to the cottage, and my heart pounded as I walked up the little concrete path. Taking a breath, I rapped my knuckles on the door, then stepped back and waited. No one answered. I knocked again, but there was still no movement inside. I waited a moment and knocked a third time as I resigned myself to the fact that no one was home.

  I scoured the campus, hoping to find her. I searched the library first, and then headed to the gym on the off chance she was hanging out with the Sunday afternoon volleyball crowd. I wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t there, and she wasn’t in the rec room next to the dining hall, either. I walked back to my dorm, cursing the fact that the next morning, I’d be on a bus to San Francisco with all the other graduating seniors. The trip was supposed to be a reward, but now it would be nothing but torture until I returned on Friday.

  After dinner, I made another trip to Olivia’s house. Once again, no one answered the door, and I trudged back to my room. An empty suitcase lay open on my bed. Damn. The bus was leaving at six the next morning, and I had done nothing to prepare. But I won’t be able to sleep, I told myself, so what difference does it make? I’ll have all night to pack. I reached for my violin case, which I always kept on the shelf over my desk.

  My violin. Right then, I hated it. I hated everything about my privileged life. Even though I still had no idea what I had done to make her so unhappy, Olivia was right when she called me a snob.

  Sighing heavily, I pulled the case off the shelf. It was stupid to blame my violin. It was the one thing in my life that would always be there for me. Unlike Olivia, it could never decide to hate me, and right now, it offered escape. For three hours, I could put myself on automatic play, and afterward …

  No, I told myself when I emerged from the practice room. It’s too late. It was after ten o’clock, and school rules were clear. I had permission to be out of the dorm after hours, but only to practice. I was now supposed to go directly to my room.

  But rules didn’t matter anymore. I couldn’t stop myself from detouring by Olivia’s house. Maybe she’d be out taking a late walk, or I might even find her in the secret garden. I had to see her before I left for San Francisco. I had to! I crept stealthily along the path, trying to make as little noise as possible.

  Eleanor’s car was still parked where it had been earlier, but the cottage was completely dark. I stood there staring at it, my heart beating wildly. If I knocked and Eleanor answered, would she let me see Olivia? Of course not. And what if they were asleep? The last thing I wanted to do was to make Eleanor angry and give Olivia another reason to hate me.

  Moving silently back down the path past the maintenance building, I slipped into the secret garden. Still breathing hard, I set my violin case on the sloping wooden slats of the cellar door next to the electric meter. Maybe I should sneak back and knock on Olivia’s window. I knew which one it was, even though I’d never been in her room. I could tap softly, so she’d hear me only if she were still awake. But I’d never done it before—we’d always planned our meetings.

  On sudden impulse, I reached for my violin case, flipped open the clasps, and raised the lid. My violin gleamed in the light of a naked, moth-enshrouded bulb on the corner of the building. I grasped the neck and lifted it out. I picked up my bow.

  I knew if I played, the sound would carry. Olivia’s window was no more than twenty yards away, and once her mother had heard us laughing from her living room. She hadn’t figured out exactly where we’d been, but we were always more careful after that. Several of the teachers’ cottages were also within easy earshot of the secret garden. On a quiet night like this, music might even reach the dorms.

  But who the hell cared, as long as Olivia heard me? I tucked the violin under my chin, and raised my bow. Taking a breath, I played the first note of Paganini’s “Last Caprice in A Minor
.” As the sound sliced into the silence, I was shocked at how loud it was. I’d probably wake the whole campus! But the thought only made me continue. If everyone could hear me, Olivia could, too. Exhilarated, I played on, certain that at any moment, she would slip between the juniper trees.

  But as I played, and Olivia didn’t appear, doubt crept into my confidence. Could she actually listen to me play this piece—the same one I had played at the folk music festival—and still not come to find me? How could the connection we shared be severed so suddenly? How could life be so unfair as to give me Olivia and then yank her away? I blinked back sudden tears and struggled to continue.

  Just then, the lower branches of one of the juniper trees moved. I sucked in a breath but kept playing. They moved again as Puck, Mr. Gillespie’s sheepdog, pushed his way into the secret garden. Following at the end of his leash was Mr. G. himself, armed with a flashlight. I stopped playing.

  “I knew it had to be you, Spencer,” Mr. Gillespie said. “What gives?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’m just—I’m going back to the dorm.”

  “You sound great, but it’s late.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Mr. Gillespie patted my shoulder. “Get some sleep. You’ve got an early call tomorrow.”

  He watched as I packed up my violin, and he held the juniper branches aside as I stepped back out onto the pathway.

  “If it’s real, it will survive.”

  I turned to stare at my teacher.

  “Trust an old guy, Spencer.” He paused to untangle Puck’s leash. “And get some sleep.”

  •••

  When I got back to my room, I sat down at my desk. Maybe Olivia was too sound asleep, I told myself, or maybe she was wasn’t even home. Even though her mother’s car was there, it was possible that Aunt Emily had picked them up. Or maybe … it didn’t matter. All I knew was that I couldn’t get on the bus in the morning without making one last attempt to communicate with her.

  Opening a spiral notebook, I began to write on a blank page. After ripping out at least a dozen false starts, I carefully copied this letter onto a piece of the engraved stationery my parents had given me for my seventeenth birthday.

  Dearest Olivia,

  I have to see you. There are things—important things—I must tell you. Please, will you meet me in the secret garden at 5 o’clock on Friday? I’ll be on the senior trip to San Francisco until then.

  If I’m not there, it will be because the bus is late, and I’ll get there as soon as I can. If you’re not there, I’ll know what it means. I won’t understand, but I’ll know.

  Olivia, I love you. I always have. I always will.

  Teddy

  The next morning, I put the letter in Eleanor’s mailbox, where I had so often left messages for Olivia before. Then I got on the bus with the other seniors and began counting the hours until Friday afternoon at five o’clock.

  Chapter 15

  Everyone else on the senior trip noticed the Golden Gate Bridge and Coit Tower, but I didn’t. I was too busy scouring every souvenir shop I came near for the perfect gift for Olivia.

  It didn’t take Bill Cross long to figure out that something was up.

  “Lovers’ spat?” he asked when he found me eyeing a large, heart-shaped box of chocolates at Ghirardelli Square. I didn’t answer, and a couple of minutes later, he stepped in front of me holding a five-pound plank of solid milk chocolate.

  “Take her this,” he said. “She can’t help but be impressed.”

  “I don’t want to impress her,” I said. “I just want to talk to her.”

  “She’ll laugh at you if you take her that stupid heart, Ted,” Bill said. “That’s what you give a floozy.” I didn’t agree, but on the off chance he was right, I settled on a two-pound assortment wrapped in silver paper, tied with satin ribbon, and topped off with a red silk rose.

  Before the bus headed back down the coast, I also found one other gift, a tiny gold replica of the Golden Gate Bridge set with a single small diamond. I showed it to Bill on the trip home. When he saw it, he shook his head.

  “Diamonds are dangerous, Spencer,” he said. “Women can’t help thinking they mean marriage.”

  I didn’t say anything. I just closed the little box and slipped it back into my pocket. Gazing out the window, I spent the whole journey hoping Bill was right.

  The bus arrived on campus a little after four o’clock on Friday afternoon, but I couldn’t wait until five to see Olivia. I dropped my suitcase off in my room, slipped the little jewelry box into my jacket pocket, slung the Ghirardelli shopping bag over my shoulder, and set off at a dead run for her house. I forced myself to slow down as I turned the corner past the science building, hoping to catch my breath before I knocked on the door. As I headed down the last stretch, I noticed a black pickup truck parked next to Eleanor’s station wagon. I was still wondering what it meant as I reached the juniper trees next to the maintenance building.

  Just then, I heard a laugh. I froze. It was Olivia! She was already in the secret garden! She must have arrived early! My heart leapt, but just then, another laugh broke the silence. A deep laugh. A male laugh.

  For a long, shocked moment, I stood there paralyzed. Then, clasping the shopping bag against my body to prevent it from rustling, I leaned forward until I could peer between the branches.

  Olivia was sitting cross-legged, her back against the stucco wall of the maintenance building. Next to her—their shoulders nearly touching—sat a guy in jeans and cowboy boots, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He was at least twenty, maybe even older. He had black hair and stubble on his chin. I’d never seen him before. As I stood there in disbelief, he reached over and patted Olivia’s knee. She smiled, and he said something in what sounded like Spanish.

  Olivia’s hand moved to the gold chain she always wore around her neck. Pulling out the heart-shaped locket and snapping it open, she held it out to her companion. He moved closer and took it in his hand. He gazed at it, then at Olivia. Then, leaning closer, he kissed her cheek.

  My heart stopped. I stared at Olivia’s face as he pulled away. She was smiling, and she patted his knee.

  Shocked tears sprang to my eyes as I turned and ran. I didn’t stop running until I was back in my room. Panting and sobbing, I flung open my wardrobe and stuffed the shopping bag into the bottom, back behind my shoes. I slammed the door and threw myself onto my bed. Then, leaping up again, I pulled the little jewelry box out of my pocket and threw it across the room. It ricocheted off the door, hit the floor near my desk, and disappeared behind my wastebasket.

  Chapter 16

  That was it. Olivia had made herself clear. The bond we had shared was broken, and all that was left for me was the rest of my life. On graduation day, I gave my mother the Ghirardelli chocolates and the gold charm. She loved them, and my father congratulated me on my thoughtfulness.

  I’ve often wondered what might have happened if Olivia and I had not parted. To fill the vacuum she left in my life, I threw myself into my music, and I did well enough at Juilliard to earn even my father’s grudging respect. I was a student there when I won the Whitworth Award and played my first concert as a soloist at Carnegie Hall, and I landed a position as assistant concertmaster with the Vienna Philharmonic as soon as I graduated. At twenty-one, I was the youngest violinist in the orchestra, and the only American.

  As high school disappeared into the past, I made no attempt to keep in touch with anyone I had known there. I even lost touch with Bill Cross. He’d gone to USC after we graduated from Haviland, but that was all I knew until the summer of 1977. I was visiting my parents, something I did every August during the Vienna Phil’s summer hiatus.

  “Bill Cross called last week,” my mother said soon after I arrived. “It was so good to hear from him after all this time. He’s a lawyer now. He left his number.”


  My old buddy was a lawyer? I smiled at the thought, but it didn’t really surprise me. Anyone with Bill’s talent for talking himself out of scrapes would make a first-rate attorney.

  “Let’s have lunch,” Bill said when I called. “Come by my office, and we can go from here.”

  Bill’s office was in a Century City high-rise. I parked in the subterranean garage and took an elevator to the top floor. A pretty receptionist greeted me from behind a marble counter. Bill, dapper in a dark pin-striped suit, emerged through an etched glass door.

  “Ted!” He shook my hand and slapped my shoulder. “It’s been too long! Come on!” I followed him to his office. It wasn’t large, but its glass-and-stainless-steel furnishings were very chic. It also had a spectacular view to the west.

  “Damn, Cross,” I said. “You’ve come a long way from the light booth in Goddard Hall.”

  He sat down behind his huge shiny desk. He looked small.

  “I guess I have,” he said, “but—” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

  “What?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It’s just not what I thought, I guess. Hey, did you know I got married?” He turned a framed photograph around. A cute sunburned brunette in shorts and a bikini top was standing on a beach. “Last October,” he said. “Lisa’s expecting a baby in December.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Congratulations.”

  Bill laughed. “You sound surprised, but you’re not half as shocked as I am. It’s like I’ve suddenly become everything I never dreamed of. A tax lawyer, a homeowner, a husband—and God—I just bought a stroller the other day.” He shook his head and plucked a thread off his sleeve. “What about you?”

  I shrugged. “Just the violin.”

  “Hey, that reminds me,” Bill said, sliding a file drawer open. “I’ve got something for you.” He pulled out a newspaper clipping and held it out to me.

  “What is it?” I asked, but my question was unnecessary. I stared into Olivia’s face smiling from the entertainment section of the Los Angeles Times. Bill waited while I read the accompanying story about the burgeoning success of a local television show called Meatloaf. It was a cooking program featuring Jay Conklin, a stand-up comic who was also a chef. According to the article, the real appeal of the show was not Jay but the “Chopper Chick,” his lovely assistant. A large photograph showed the “Chopper Chick” smiling as she diced onions. “Olivia de la Vega raises a knife along with the ratings for Conklin’s Meatloaf,” read the caption.