The yellow spotlight flicked off, and a white one suddenly lit up Olivia. As though nothing at all had happened, she kept on singing.
I was spellbound, but given my feelings for her, that wasn’t surprising. What was astonishing is that everyone else was struck dumb, too. Olivia de la Vega, the invisible girl who lived in a cleaning lady’s cottage, stood there singing as though she had been born in the footlights. Her voice left no room in Goddard Hall for anything but awe. The final notes of her song were still hanging in the air when Mr. Harper clicked off the tape recorder.
Olivia stood on the stage, the white spotlight full on her face. Everyone was quiet, even the girls in the front row. Then, from somewhere in the back, came the sound of one person clapping. I turned, and, silhouetted in the light booth, I could see Bill Cross and the two freshmen. They started clapping, too, and one of them whistled. Then the spotlight followed Olivia as she walked off the stage, and the room fell silent again.
I wish I could say that from that moment on, everyone was friendly toward Olivia, but that didn’t happen. The girls kept a surly distance, and the boys turned shy. But to Mr. Harper’s great delight, our rehearsals were suddenly very serious affairs. Though they still snubbed her, the girls tried their damnedest to match Olivia’s professionalism on stage. The boys struggled, too, even though there was no hope we could look like anything but rank amateurs. It was a real miracle. All Olivia had done was sing her song, but it brought the best out in all of us.
Most importantly, it brought out the best in me. Because of her, I was a better Lancelot than I ever dreamed possible. Olivia maintained a flawlessly professional front, and I strove to match it. I memorized all my lines and lyrics within a week, and I practiced singing when I should have been playing my violin.
When I made it through a rehearsal, I’d retreat immediately to my room to let my feelings flood over me. Lying on my narrow bed, I would go back over every moment. I tried to feel her presence, to breathe her in. I relived every smile, every touch, every word.
The trouble was, the words were all courtesy of Lerner and Loewe. Even after a month of rehearsals, Olivia and I still hadn’t exchanged a sentence that wasn’t in the script. Olivia was punctual at Goddard Hall every afternoon, and she departed when Mr. Harper gave the nod. In between, she was all business.
But, oh, when she was Guenevere! Those liquid green eyes bore straight into mine as she professed first her scorn and then her everlasting love. As I struggled to match her ability and strove to take direction as easily, I hoped desperately that my feelings might make up for my lack of acting experience. I have no doubt, however, that I looked exactly like what I was: an awkward high school kid in tights. At least Bill had been right about my voice. I could carry a tune, and my legs weren’t bad.
At the end of February, I received a letter from Juilliard inviting me to come to New York for an audition. I couldn’t quite believe it. It wasn’t an offer of acceptance, but it was tangible encouragement. Damn! Even if I never got to go there as a student, I was definitely going to see it. I was going to walk through the door, try the place on for size. All at once, one of my dreams was tantalizingly close to coming true.
Riding on the wave of confidence this good news inspired, I decided to invite Olivia to go to the Spring Gala with me. The Spring Gala was Haviland’s version of a prom, and every student in the school willing to pay the price of admission was invited. I’d never attended, and I was nearly positive Olivia hadn’t either. Tickets were close to a hundred bucks a couple, which was a lot of money in 1968. The event was held at the Ojai Valley Hunt Club, a fancy resort not far from Haviland where my parents stayed when they came to visit.
I figured Olivia might accept my invitation just so she could go to the Gala. Since I was certain she harbored no feelings for me, my offer would really be a bribe, and I hoped desperately I was dealing in the right currency to tempt her.
I should admit that my plan held another advantage. Every year, my parents asked why I didn’t go to the Gala.
“Social gatherings are an important part of success,” my father would say, and my mother would agree. If I went to the dance, maybe things would go a little better when I announced that Juilliard was more than a pipe dream.
It took me nearly a week to strengthen my resolve. Lying on my bed, I rehearsed my lines a thousand times, and I even forced myself to consider the possibility Olivia might say no. The only reason she’d reject me, I supposed, was that she’d feel uncomfortable in a formal setting. She’d probably never been to a place like the Hunt Club before, I imagined. Since she might worry about what to wear, I even concocted a half-baked scheme to furnish her with a prom dress anonymously.
Dear Miss de la Vega,
Congratulations! You are the lucky winner of a FREE PROM DRESS at Norm Taylor’s State Street Boutique! Just stop by our Santa Barbara store to claim your ABSOLUTELY FREE, NO-OBLIGATION prize!
I would have made a lousy fairy godmother, but as things turned out, it didn’t matter. When I finally mustered enough gumption to pop the question, Olivia caught me by surprise.
We were alone when I asked her, an encounter that had required both planning and luck to accomplish. The teacher in charge of creating and acquiring all the costumes for Camelot made individual appointments with each of the lead actors. I’d checked the sign-up sheet to see when Olivia’s meeting would take place, and at the appropriate time, I’d stationed myself outside the door through which I hoped she’d depart Goddard Hall. Luckily, my prediction was right, and even better, she was alone when she emerged.
Olivia saw me leaning oh-so-casually against a bougainvillea-
shaded column along the walkway outside Goddard Hall, and she murmured a greeting but swept on past. I had to hurry to keep up with her as she walked purposefully away from me.
“Olivia! I’m glad I bumped into you.”
Olivia paused, turned her green eyes on me for a moment, and then started walking again. I leapt ahead of her, turned, and walked backwards, facing her.
“Do you have a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”
Olivia stopped abruptly and looked me square in the eyes. “Sure, Ted. What is it?”
By the grace of God, I didn’t stammer. “I wanted to ask you if you’d like to go to the Spring Gala with me.”
My words hung there as Olivia stared at me and then looked away. She paused long enough for both hope and despair to well up inside me, and then, without any emotion that I could read, she laid her three hideously simple words on me.
“No, thank you.”
And that was it. She didn’t offer any excuses or the slightest opening through which I might insert my practiced persuasions. No, thank you, and she was gone.
Chapter 5
I had never been more astonished and deflated at the same moment. When Olivia left me in the walkway, my mouth was gaping open. I don’t remember making my way to my dorm room, but I do know I missed dinner that night. I lay on my bed and consumed an entire box of graham crackers in the gathering gloom.
All my daydreams of attending the dance with Olivia on my arm had been unceremoniously dashed, and she’d left me with no encouragement to try another tack. I was despondent for three days, and I missed four classes. Such absences would have aroused little comment had it not been for my otherwise perfect attendance record. When the school nurse summoned me to her office on the third day of my funk, I realized I was risking parental involvement.
I rallied enough not to miss any more school, but I still wallowed in my woe. Camelot rehearsals would have been particularly horrible, but fortuitously I was excused. Albert van Doren and I flew to New York for my audition at Juilliard that week.
I had never been to Manhattan before, and I know my mother was disappointed that she wasn’t the one who would be showing it to me for the first time. She had worked in New York for a few years after she finished college, and she had planned to take me there as a graduation