“Helloi,” said AJ.
“Good,” said Eudora.
Warm-ups were followed by Shakespearean scene work, a segment of the routine that seemingly existed for Noah to show how annoyingly good he was at acting while Eudora favorably compared him to other Drews.
“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage,” said Noah.
“Ah, that’s just how my father would have done it!” said Eudora. Then she noticed AJ smirking. “My dear, are you laughing atbloodlust?”
“I would never,” said AJ. “Read on, Macbeth.”
Eudora’s eyes tripled in size. “Neversay the name of the Scottish King in this house.”
AJ apologized, but in vain. “That’s not enough,” said Eudora, looking increasingly like Lady Macbeth herself. “You need to go outside and walk thrice around the house. Backwards.”
“What?” said AJ, as Noah laughed into his script.
“Thrice!” said Eudora.
Grumbling, AJ made her way out the kitchen door—this was a bit much, even for a killer recommendation. But Eudora’s grounds were glorious and somewhere between AJ’s second and third run-in with a cement cupid, she had to admit: she hadn’t thought about her broken arm all day. Drew House might be a mad world unto itself, but AJ liked it. She would play by its rules.
For the most part, Eudora was content to observe, though she would demonstrate when necessary. After they both botched Valentine’s big speech, she leapt up on the ottoman and recited it herself.
“What light is light, if Sylvia be not seen?” she pondered. “What joy is joy, if Sylvia be not by?”
“Ah, I see,” said Noah after. “What lightislight.”
AJ nodded. “What joyisjoy.”
“Oh, for heaven’ssake,” said Eudora.
The Drews employed one full-time staff member, an Irish housekeeper, Mrs. Gilroy. Each day after their morning scenes, she’d prepare lunch. Or rather, she’d prepare lunch for Noah and Eudora. Mrs. Gilroy prided herself on serving the Drews and was loath to serve AJ.
“There are only two sandwiches here,” said Noah, looking over the contents of her silver tray.
“Beg pardon,” said Mrs. Gilroy. “I didn’t realizeshewas eating.”
“I love eating,” said AJ helpfully.
“Gilroy,” said Eudora, sweeping into the room. “Have you seen my orange shell cameo brooch? I got in on a limited-time offer. The man on Home Shopping Network said there were only sixty made, I’ll bedevastatedif I lost it. And do feed AJ, we can’t have her acting the stewed prune.”
“Thewhat?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Mrs. Gilroy, mutteringSaints preserve usas she withdrew.
After lunch, Eudora would herd them onto the patio for the portion of the program AJ dreaded most: kinetic synthesis.
“You are now each other’s shadows,” Eudora announced. “When we’re done, you’ll be so closely attuned that you’ll be able tofeeleach other across a crowded room.” Then, she inserted disc one of an “as seen on TV”A&M Goldtwo-CD set into a boom box. “Now, move!”
AJ froze. She didn’t dance unless she was wasted. She turned to Noah pleadingly. Maybe they could stage a walkout. Noah seemed undecided about how to proceed.
“Move, move!” cried Eudora.
For the next ninety minutes, they circled each other “dancing” in a five-foot radius, occasionally making eye contact then looking away as the greatest hits of 1956 blared over the boom box.
It was so excruciating that AJ’s consciousness actually vacated her body. When the disc finished, all she had access to were a patchy montage of her own jerky one-armed movements, determined looks past Noah, and desperate glances at Eudora, who blithely scribbled away on her clipboard.
While kinetic synthesis was now the bane of AJ’s existence, she greatly looked forward to what followed: entire afternoons devoted to improvisation, the building blocks ofAstronauticals.
