Anne and I met in Melbourne in 1997 when we were cast in a production of Hamlet. We were both single and playing onstage lovers. The first time I saw her in the Melbourne Theatre Company cafeteria, she had a sleepy, grumpy face.
I still recall those intense, slightly scary green eyes looking at me. I thought to myself: she is very attractive, but also quite formidable. At first it was a little awkward, but humour was the key.
We’d sit on the dusty rehearsal room floor in our tracksuits while the director was working with another actor. Instead of practising our lines, we’d flip through the faded 70s magazines left in the corner and make jokes about what the models in flares or with chopped beards might be saying as they shot the images. One day by chance I flipped to the horoscopes.
I asked Anne what the stars could have in store for us in 1972. She told me her sign was Scorpio – the same as mine. My aim was just to laugh at the bullshit of horoscopes but when I read it out, it stopped me cold: “You have met someone now through work who will be one of the most important people in your life, perhaps a partner and soulmate.” It was weird and uncanny but we just laughed it off.
I felt embarrassed because it sounded like some kind of calculated romantic ploy. I quickly flicked to the next page but somewhere in my brain I knew it was the truth. Later, when the show was well under way, we were walking along St Kilda Road after a performance.
We stopped at the lights and I summoned the courage to say: “I think I’ve got one of those crushes on you.” She looked at me and said: “Well, that’s good. Isn’t it?” I took her cryptic and understated response as confirmation she felt the same way. It is very much her style – and I liked that it had a question mark on the end of it.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
