A Dash of Reality

by Murray, Lee

  ‘Sure, I weigh 114kg, I’m a big man, but I’m fit. I go to the gym and work out, play touch. Try not to drink too much. But I’ve got two brothers and two sisters. I don’t want to lose any of them to diabetes. I want to prove to them we have to look out for ourselves. So I’m doing it for my family.’

  The camera fades out to the green of the rugby field, only to fade back in again, this time on a different field, at a high school. The camera circles the school grounds and comes to rest on two teenage girls in blue and grey school uniform sitting on wooden pews in front of the school cafeteria. A large 44 gallon drum rubbish bin is off to the right, a few candy wrappers and a Coke can littering the ground nearby.

  Good (from off-camera): ‘So, Karen, Julie, tell us why you girls are entering NZTV’s Racing Feat.’

  Karen (to camera): ‘There’s a lot of talk about obesity these days. Yeah, and like some parents and the Board of Trustees want to take pies and chips and stuff with fat and salt in them off the canteen menu.’

  Julie: ‘Yeah, but we don’t think it’s the answer because it’s taking away our freedom to choose, isn’t it? And it’s like, if someone tells you that you can’t have something, you’re going to want it more.’

  Good: ‘You don’t agree constraints on diet are the answer to obesity?’

  Karen: ‘Yes, but it’s up to the individual, isn’t it? You can have chips and sweets and stuff, just not every day.’

  Julie: ‘Half the girls at school are either bulimic or on a diet anyway so we’re sending out conflicted messages. Eat this and don’t eat that. The thing is it wouldn’t matter much if kids were more active. Mostly, they’re staying at home playing Xbox, texting their mates, and watching TV. Less and less people are signing up for sport after school.’

  Good: ‘Is that why you’re entering the challenge? To set an example to your peers so they get off the play-station and onto the playing field?’

  Julie: ‘That’s the main reason. And we think we have a good chance of winning because we’re planning to compete as a team. That way we’ll be able to egg each other on and we won’t give up so easily. Teamwork will be important, like on the Amazing Race and Survivor. The contestants that team up and work together always win.’

  Karen: ‘Except for the people who cheat.’

  Julie: ‘Yeah, except for that.’

  There’s a short pause before Karen takes up the conversation again.

  Karen: ‘The thing is, because we’re still at school we’ll have more time to train for it than the contestants who work. And our PE teacher says he’ll talk to the Principal to get us some extra time off classes, so we can get our fitness levels up.’

  Julie: ‘And it’ll count as an achievement standard toward our NCEAs.’

  Karen: ‘That’ll be good.’

  Julie: ‘Yeah.’

  Good: ‘Have you decided what your preferred charity is likely to be?’

  Karen: ‘The Foodbank, because although there’s all this obesity, there are still some kids that don’t even get breakfast before they come to school and that sucks.’

  Julie: ‘It’s like an irony.’

  Karen: ‘Yeah, an irony.’

  Instantly, the camera cuts again and a new scene materialises. This time it’s a cluttered family kitchen. A frazzled-looking woman is finishing up a sink-load of dishes which she stacks onto a draining board. Wisps of dirty blonde hair are falling out of her ponytail. She wipes them out of her eyes with the back of her wrist.

  Carline (to camera): ‘Hi. I’m Carline Spick. I’m your standard Kiwi mum. I’m 36-years-young and the mother of 2.4 pre-school children. I gave birth to two of them, and the other is my husband’s daughter who lives with us three days a week. Since our daughter was born three years ago, I’ve struggled with my weight, gaining 6 kilos and 2 dress sizes. I’m currently a size 14. Well, my bottom is a size 14. My bust has shrunk to an optimistic A cup.’ (She giggles.)

  ‘I haven’t run since high school, but I work out on an exercise bike at home when the children take their afternoon sleep. We eat carefully most of the time, but like most Kiwi families, we enjoy our fish and chips on Friday nights and sausages wrapped in bread with a splash of tomato sauce during the summer. My biggest problem is sneaky snacking during the day because I work from home where the fridge is accessible!’

  Carline points to the fridge behind her and the cameraman obligingly swings the camera to take in the appliance. Then, the fridge door closes and from behind it a burly bearded man appears. He steps across and put a hand on Carline’s shoulder. Carline brings one hand across her body to hold his hand.

  Carline: ‘This is my husband, Greg. I used to be a medical lab technician, but since Greg and I married (she pats his hand) I work part-time in our husband-wife carpet cleaning business, Spick Carpet Cleaning. Just a little plug there…’ (She giggles again.)

  Greg: ‘I clean the carpets and charm the ladies…’

  Carline: ‘…and I try to keep the kids amused while answering the phones and juggling the bills.’

  Greg: ‘We’re definitely Mr and Mrs Ordinary New Zealander - small business owners with a humungous mortgage.’

  Carline: ‘Some free advertising wouldn’t go amiss! (She laughs and gives her husband an affectionate push.) Mostly, I want a bit of adventure. This challenge could be a fun way to get back into shape and maybe prove to other Kiwi mums they can do the same.’

  The scene blurs briefly and remerges outside a strip mall of four or five small stores, including a hot bread shop and a real estate office. This time we see Good, microphone in hand.

  Good: ‘We’re standing outside the Te Puna Centre for Natural Wellness. It’s the base of our next contestant, Asteroïde Waters.’

  Good enters the store. Inside, the shop looks like an ancient apothecary. Crouched behind the counter a woman bearing a remarkable resemblance to Harry Potter’s divinity teacher, Professor Trelawny, places items on a low shelf.

  Good: ‘Asteroïde Waters?’

  Asteroïde: ‘Yes?’

  She stands upright, placing a glass canister of a silvery substance on the counter.

  Good: ‘I understand at 49 you’re the oldest competitor in the Racing Feat series. How do you think you’ll compare against the younger contestants?’

  Asteroïde: ‘Yes, I’m 49. I’m also 160cm tall and weigh only 54kg. I’m in excellent shape for my age.’

  Good: ‘What’s your secret?’

  Asteroïde: ‘It’s no secret. Seven years ago I eliminated all animal products from my diet. My body is free of harmful toxins and I’m full of energy. I can foot it with people half my age. Once upon a time, I was inclined to violent mood swings. Not any more. And I no longer experience anxiety, bloatedness or the breathlessness that plagued me before I turned to the vegan way of life. I might be older than some of the other competitors, but my lifestyle prepares me for the mental and physical tests the challenges present.’

  Good: ‘Any magic potion here to help you here?’ (Good sweeps her arms in an arc indicating the bottles and potions.)

  Asteroïde (frowning): ‘I’m a qualified natural healer. I’ve worked in this industry for nearly a decade, giving me valuable insight into the supplements that will enhance my performance.’

  Good: ‘Without being illegal, of course!’ Asteroïde frowns frostily and says nothing.

  ‘Wow, move over Lady Macbeth!’ Janeen says.

  ‘Uhuh. That one looks like Badjelly. Keep away from her, Mel. She might put a spell on you.’ In his creepiest stage voice, Jack warbles the words of the Screamin’ Jay Hawkins song. He seizes Caro, who squeals.

  ‘Hey, get a load of this guy,’ says Janeen, pointing.

  A muscled torso has appeared. It twists to the right, chiselled arms out-stretched, back muscles rippling as it hoists a rubbish bin into a slowly moving garbage truck. The camera tracks the figure, following it’s progression along the street. The voice-over begins.

  Tazza: ‘Terry Higgins is me name,
but these days everyone calls me Tazza. I’m a Taupo boy, born and bred. I went to Taupo-Nui-a-Tia College, took metalwork and technical drawing and married a Taupo girl, Ann.’

  ‘Anyway, I haven’t been doing too great lately. I used to work for Bulkers Trucking, worked for them for about 15 years, but I broke my wrist a while back and had to go on ACC for 6 months. I was due to go back, but business got slack, the company lost a few accounts and I got let go. I didn’t get upset, although I could’ve. Fifteen years is a long time. For the past two months though, I’ve been working for a recycling company picking up green bins. It’s good honest work and I’m not ashamed to do it. Ann says I’ve got a good attitude about it. My day starts early and I’m finished by mid- afternoon, so it’s got its advantages. Also, I’m really fit now from running and chucking rubbish up onto the truck. I’m in much better shape than I ever was. Hell, back in school they called me Higgie the Piggie. Ann says I was a good sport about the nicknames kids gave me. She says if it’s done with affection then it’s okay. I want my next nickname to be Tazza from Taupo, because I’m here to put Taupo on the map. Maybe they’ll make me mayor one day. Ann says, why not? I’m running for the Taupo Hospice.’

  Tazza and the rubbish truck get smaller and smaller they move down the street away from the camera.

  Good (voice-over): ‘Shortly we’ll be going behind the scenes into the lives of our sponsors’ competitors. What are their strengths? Their weaknesses? Join us after the break.’ I sigh. I’m not on until after the ad break. The interruption hasn’t upset my friends though; Janeen and Jack both leap off the couch in a mad race for the toilet.

  20

  ‘Ooh, will you look at this one. Who does he think he is, Mr Darcy?’ gasps Janeen.

  Possibly. If dark trousers, a black polo, olive skin and obsidian eyes are anything to go on.

  Good (voice-over): ‘Rico Black is a former NZTV cameraman and NZTV’s contestant. Rico’s worked on a number of well-known television productions, but this is his first time on this side of the camera…’ As the presenter speaks, Black walks across a television set, possibly from home-grown soapie Shortland Street, and at the edge of scene he bends over (he has a hot bottom) grasps a television camera and hefts it onto his shoulder. He turns to face the viewers. A reverse view close-up follows with Black’s face seen through the camera lens. The image zooms inwards until only a dazzling black eye is visible. The camera centres on the iris. The screen goes black.

  Good (voice-over): ‘Here’s how Rico’s friends describe him.’

  From the inky depth of Black’s iris, a dimly-lit Italian restaurant emerges. Seated in a black leather booth, a man is barely distinguishable. Only his hand, playing with a twinkling tea-light, and his face stand out, spookily lit by the flicker of the flame. His is the biggest billy goat gruff voice.

  Andreas: ‘My name is Andreas. I’m Rico’s cousin and, I like to think, his best friend. You want to know about Rico? Rico’s fiercely independent. Thirty-two years ago my father and Rich…er... Rico’s dad founded a business importing European kitchen cabinetry and countertops. Nowadays, I work for the company as Operations Manager, my brother Mikey sources new products and my cousin Talia, Rico’s sister, works with clients on the interior design side. Even my mother’s on the board, but not Rico. He’s always refused a job in the family business. Wants to make his own way in the world. Independent. Determined.’

  Good (from offstage): ‘Determined enough to win?’

  Andreas: ‘Definitely. And he’s resourceful too. He’ll be one of the last men standing on your reality show.’

  Good (from offstage): ‘What can you tell us about your cousin’s involvement in sport?’

  Andreas: ‘I don’t know about running, but he looks good in a suit. He always looks fit. When we were kids we used to be all over the neighbourhood, Wellington’s Karori, riding our bikes up the back in the bush, skateboarding, but I don’t know what he’s up to these days sport-wise. Working out at the gym, probably. Watching the beach volleyball, certainly.’

  Janeen sniffs loudly.

  ‘Shhhh.’

  Good (still offstage): ‘From your knowledge of Black, what’s his motivation for entering Racing Feat?’

  Andreas seems to realise he may have painted a too-intense portrait of his cousin. Smiling in the wavering tea light, he takes on a jauntier tone.

  Andreas: ‘Rico’s the type to make an opportunity of any situation. His car breaks down on the side of the road and before you know Rico will be dating the kid sister of the guy who stops to help fix it. He’s got this mischievous bad boy side to him. That’s not to say he doesn’t know how to relax. Rico likes to dine out with his friends, play the piano and watch action movies…’

  ‘Oh puhlease,’ Janeen moans. ‘Next they’ll be saying he’s looking for a single female, 25 to 35, slim build and with a sense of humour for walks on the beach.’

  ‘Sssshhh!’ Janeen sticks her finger in her mouth and mimics vomiting. Caro giggles.

  ‘I’m not listening to this. Who wants hot Milo?’ Janeen says. Caro’s little hand shoots up. While Janeen bangs about making Milo in my kitchen, Starship Hospital emerges onscreen. In the foreground, Rico sits on a park bench holding a pink bundle. The picture zooms in to reveal the bundle’s secret identity, a cherub-faced infant with enormous eyes. The epitome of bald cuteness, she looks imploringly at Black.

  Black (to camera): ‘I’m Rico Black. I’m supporting the Starship. These kids need all the help they can get. Please New Zealand, get behind this important project and help me support kids like Kayleigh here.’

  Once again the camera closes in on his smouldering black eyes.

  Fed up with pacing, I squeeze myself back in between Jack and Caro as the image fades out…

  ‘Ohmigod, it’s Cherry!’

  I don’t believe it. They interviewed Cherry. Of all the people to choose! Why not simply hand her my head on a platter? Would you like to dish the dirt on Mel on national television? You would? Then please speak clearly into this microphone.

  ‘Mel, be quiet. Your bit’s on.’ Janeen shushes me.

  On the screen, Daddy’s Little Girl is seated on a swivel chair in her Cherry Fizz salon. She’s wearing a Rhianna-esque mini skirt and has deliberately crossed her legs. All the better to show off her ankles.

  Good (from offstage): ‘Cherry, what’s it like being Melanie’s sister?’

  Cherry: ‘She’s my step-sister, actually. Did she tell you that? My Dad married Cushla, Mel’s Mum, after my mother died tragically. (She sighs after she mentions her dead mother, her voice all trembly and tragic.) So there’s Dad and Cushla, Mel, Charlie – that’s my brother – and me. I don’t think Mel was that fussed about being part of our family. She’s always held herself apart. We’ve never had a close sisterly relationship. She’s always had this other dad in the background. Colin, his name is. When we were kids, Mel used to go on and on about him – he’s a rally car driver in Australia – but he never came to see her or anything. I’ve never even met him. Every now and again Mel would get a letter telling her he’d come for her birthday or for Christmas and take her out somewhere cool, and Mel would strut around crowing about it and then in the end he wouldn’t turn up. He wouldn’t call or anything. Just wouldn’t show. Once, Mel waited up until midnight in case he’d been held up in traffic. Served her right really. She’s such a show-off.’

  Good: ‘What do you think of her participating in Racing Feat?’

  Cherry: ‘Hah! Mel isn’t sporty. I know she’s on those glitzy Sportzgirl billboards, but wearing a Lycra top is about as close as Mel gets to doing any sports. If she makes it to the final it’ll be a miracle. It’s good she’s supporting the Disabled Riding charity though…’

  ‘Thanks so much for your support, Cherry. Very magnanimous.’

  ‘Don’t let her get to you,’ Jack says.

  ‘Did she have to say those things about Colin, though? It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t always make it. That�
�s how it’s with rally driving, you have to go where the race is. It’s okay for her. Marcus was always home.’

  ‘Let it go, Mel. It doesn’t matter what she thinks,’ Jack says.

  Caro pipes up. ‘It was good she mentioned Riding for the Disabled though.’

  ‘Mmm? Riding for the Disabled? Did she? Oh, yes, it was good, wasn’t it?’ I give her shoulder a squeeze.

  ‘Will you and Jack come there with me sometime and ride the horses, Mel?’

  ‘Where love?’

  ‘Riding.’

  ‘We’d love to, honey,’ says Jack.

  ‘Zip it you guys. There’s more,’ says Janeen.

  Good: ‘In your view, what strengths and weaknesses does Melanie bring to the show?

  Cherry: ‘Weaknesses mostly. (She titters.) For one thing, Mel’s scared of heights. Completely freaks out. Anything higher than a cornflake packet and she turns into a quivering bowl of jelly. Raspberry coloured. It’s quite funny. The way I see it, any event with a ridge or a cliff or a skinny bridge and she’s history.’

  My hand is balled into a tight fist. Caro prises my fingers open and pops her little hand in the gap. I curl my fingers around hers and find it surprisingly comforting. She pulls my shoulder down so my face is nearer hers.

  ‘Don’t worry, Aunty Mel,’ she whispers. ‘Everyone gets scared sometimes. I’m scared of the dark. Even though I know there’s no such thing as monsters, sometimes I still get scared.’

  I pop a kiss on her nose, and turn back to listen to more lies from my treacherous step-blister.

  Cherry: ‘Mind you, Mel’s ambitious, so she could surprise us. When she decides on a project she can be obsessive. One time, she figured she was talented enough to audition for the role of Roxy, the main character from the musical Chicago. The entire school holidays Mel stood in front of the mirror, warbling away into the roller ball of a stick of deodorant, learning the words. She can’t even sing. Of course, she didn’t get the part. She dances like Mr Bean. The performing arts teacher must have killed herself laughing…’