Page 35 of Anxious Hearts
Nearly seven weeks had passed and Finn had heard nothing. He was trying to remain positive but at what point was a long time too long? At what point did silence mean rejection? Was there no response to his audition tape because the casting director hadn’t had time to review it? Or was it because they had watched it and immediately written him off? Did they think it was so bad that they’d added it to a compilation of the year’s worst auditions that would be played at the production company’s Christmas party? Would dozens of strangers be laughing at this Australian idiot who was barely good enough for a second-rate soap opera, let alone a feature film?
These thoughts plagued Finn as he ran on the treadmill. With each disaster, he increased the speed to try to expel his anxiety through sheer physical exertion. It was mid-morning on a non-shooting day, and he was alone in the gym; the only sound was the rhythmic hammering of his feet on the path that would never end. Finn had hoped Ashley might be there, but it was a long shot. She was so busy at the moment that they hadn’t managed to line their schedules up for a second date following the success of the fashion show outing. He was starting to understand how a 23-year-old had her own fashion label: sixteen-hour work days and perpetual hustling. Downtime is for retirement, Ashley had told him when he said she worked more absurd hours than he did.
Finn was sprinting hard now. Only a few minutes more and he’d have hit his ten kilometre target. Sweat poured into his eyes but he was running so fast that interrupting his equilibrium by wiping it away could cause him to lose his footing and be flung off the treadmill like a feather in a cyclone.
His watch vibrated. He didn’t check it, he’d pick the message up when he was done. But it kept vibrating – not a message but a call. He chanced a quick turn of his wrist and saw Esme’s name. Without hesitation, Finn grabbed the hand supports on either side of the treadmill as though he was vaulting for Olympic gold. His legs continued to run comically in mid-air until his body caught up with his mind. The treadmill track whirred dangerously beneath him like deadly whitewater rapids as he swung himself off the machine, executed a perfect landing and hit the answer button on his watch just before Esme was diverted to voicemail.
‘Esme,’ he gasped.
‘Finn, is that you?’
He breathed hard, doubled over and rested his hands on his knees. ‘Of course it is. You called my mobile.’
‘You sound like a serial killer.’
‘I was on the treadmill.’
‘Oh, the poetry,’ Esme crowed. ‘You literally got off the treadmill to take my call, which is metaphorically going to take you off the treadmill of endless auditions.’
Finn couldn’t speak. He knew where she was going, even if it was the most indirect route possible.
‘I can hear your heavy breathing, which is very creepy by the way, so I know you’re still listening.’
Finn sat down hard on the bench press and raised his wrist to his ear so he wouldn’t miss a sound from Esme’s tinny little voice through his watch speaker.
‘Finley, my dear lad.’ Predictably, she paused for dramatic effect. ‘You’ve booked an audition for the Netflix movie!’
Finn gasped. He swallowed. He screwed his eyes shut.
‘Finley!’ Esme yelled. ‘Are you there?’
‘Yes,’ Finn whispered. ‘Yes, I’m here.’ He choked on the words.
‘Finley, darling, are you crying?’ Esme said gently.
Finn opened his eyes, which released tears that ran down his face and onto the gym mats. ‘Yes,’ he said with a laughing sob.
‘Oh, God, now you’ve set me off!’ Esme wailed.
Finn sprang up from the bench and raised his fists in triumph. ‘Yes!’ he screamed. ‘Yessssssss!’ He went on like that for as long as he could hold the sound without taking a breath. Beneath his own roar, he could just hear Esme squealing with the same enthusiasm on the other end of the call.
When there was no noise left in him, Finn sat back down, exhausted, relieved, thankful. ‘Thank you so much, Esme,’ he said. ‘I owe you everything.’
‘I’ll settle for a glass of Pol Roger.’
He laughed and they said goodbye. Then Finn sat in the quiet of the empty gym, smiling. Maybe this is it, he thought. Maybe it’s finally coming together. But he couldn’t get his hopes up. He wouldn’t get his hopes up.
He just wished he could tell his dad.
Chapter Eighteen
Friday 7 April
The Care for our Kids Appeal telethon was an annual event held on Good Friday to raise money for the Victorian Children’s Hospital. It was a cavalcade of every single person who had ever said a line on Australian television. They sang, joked, roused and laughed their way through the day under the blinding studio lights that were now shining in Kelly’s eyes. She longed for the relative calm of an emergency ward where no-one worried about whether her forehead was too shiny for the camera or which side of the host she should stand on.
Thankfully, Finn was there with her. She’d seen him on set a few times over the years and always marvelled at how he morphed into a person she almost didn’t recognise when the cameras were rolling – a person of confidence, strength, security. A person who wasn’t crippled by anxiety, fear and weakness. Even when he wasn’t playing a character, like today, he still managed to own the room around him.
‘How come you never get nervous with all these people staring at you?’ she asked as they stood precisely where they had been instructed while they waited for a commercial break to end.
