Member-only story
Learning to Speak the Language
Or how I met the Filmmaker and became a football fan.
In Melbourne, everybody follows football. Everybody, including comedians, artists, film directors, musicians. It is decided that I should learn to speak the language.
It is Saturday afternoon. I have been in my pyjamas since the call from my ex-husband. I drag myself to the shower climb over the side of the bath, pull the world map shower curtain across and stand under the hot water for about a millennium, it doesn’t work, I don’t feel any better. Well, actually I do a bit and putting on grown-up clothes helps.
Michelle is getting snacks ready in the kitchen I stand there watching as she fusses around and take things out to the table in the lounge when she directs me to. I am feeling okay, numb but okay.
The doorbell rings and Leanne arrives, she is a stunning redhead with green eyes who is one of Michelle’s best friends. She also suffers from depression.
‘Hello Emma, how are you? This is my favourite man in the world, Filmmaker. Filmmaker this is Emma, she is staying here while she gets herself sorted.’
The Filmmaker has a friendly smile and a mischievous look in his eyes.
