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My name is David Farrier, and after eight years, I’ve returned to The Bay. I don’t necessarily want to be here; truthfully, there’s far more other things I’d prefer to be doing, like shooting a second series of wandering through the ephemera of the weird side of America, or writing, or… literally anything other than being back in The Bay, filming a follow up to Short Poppies.
That series that had crashed and burned. Wholeheartedly.
That series.
At least until it had gone viral in late 2021 and grown a cult following and… well.
Here I am.
Walking along an unmaintained path, back in The Bay, towards a house I know all too well. It gives me the occasional nightmare, still.
That painting… of me. Naked.
Yeah.
I’m accompanied by a cameraman, fully mic’d up, but I’ve not actually spoken to Louise since I saw her eight years ago, and frankly, I’m nervous. It’s not great that I’ve got zero context to all of this, but the folks at NZTV were very insistent, so.
Steeling myself, I knock on the door, the camera guy pulling in for a tight shot as I do.
The person who answers isn’t who I expect.
Not Louise Cooper, and I’m a little ashamed at the rush of relief I feel at that, but another woman. Taller than I am, definitely, dressed all in leather, and with gorgeous long dark hair. She’s very beautiful, and more than a little imposing. “Yeah?” She says.
Ooookay. “I’m, uh. David Farrier? I’m here to film Louise for-”
“Oh yeah.” She says, waving a finger at me a bit accusingly. “You’re that guy who misinterpreted her work and then put it on TV. Few years back. I remember.” She doesn’t look impressed. Bad start. Turning, she calls back into the house. “Lou? Babe? That doco guy’s here.”
“Coming, honey!” Another voice, and yeah, that’s definitely Louise, replies.
Honey.
Babe.
Huuuuuh.
I exchange a glance with my camera guy, who I’m almost certain is thinking the exact same thing I am. Unexpected.
Louise looks the same. Still blonde, still decked out in floraled frocks, but she has a quiet peace to her that’s welcome and doesn’t even try to play footsie with me under the table. It’s a nice change.
She seems… happy.
Her… partner? Girlfriend? Wife? sits off camera, to the side, and occasionally glares at me. It’s a bit murderous, her expression, and I can’t seem to stop myself shifting uncomfortably in my seat every time our gazes meet.
“Why don’t you tell me a bit about what’s been happening in your life since we last met, Louise?” I ask. I had prepared a bunch of questions, but… they’d gone out of the window since stepping foot into the house. It’s not that I’m blindsided by the concept of Louise being in a relationship with a woman, it’s just-
She’d been such a maneater when we’d last met. So much so that I hadn’t considered any other options.
It’s just a bit surprising, I muse, sort of ridiculously, because it’s not as though anyone tends to clock me as bisexual. And yet…
“Well!” Louise sits up straight, proudly, face all joy. “I had a series run in an Auckland gallery. The Faces of Rural New Zealand - everyone loved it! And of course Zeke is doing fantastically at school - Mr Neal has really taken him under his wing. He’s going to become a beekeeper.”
“A beekeeper?” I wouldn’t have expected it. Zeke had seemed so into mechanics when I’d last seen him, though I suppose that tastes could change over eight years.
“Yes.” Louise beamed. “And a boy-racer on the weekends.”
Huh.
Well, that’s quite the unconventional choice. I say as much to Louise.
“Yeah.” Louise replies. She still seems strangely proud. “He’s the fastest one out there, my boy.” She looks over to her partner with such joy in her face, and the other woman returns her grin. “Ruby has been an absolute darling, you know? The car thing - I don’t really get it, but she is a whizz behind the wheel.”
“Oh, I try.” Ruby drawls, sitting back in her seat and winking at Louise. “It just comes naturally.”
Louise giggles, a light, ridiculous thing.
I finally feel the need to interject. I’m curious, okay? It’s all good journalism, really. “Last I saw of you, Louise, I believe you were with -” Not exactly the correct way to explain what it was, but I figure I should soften things, “-Rhod Gainer?”
“Ugh.” Louise spits. “Don’t remind me of that man. Terrible misogynist. Just awful. Rubes - well, she came into my life exactly when I needed her most.”
She wanders over to one of her shelves - this one is decked out in some lurid blue and green driftwood sculptures, and pulls down a photo album. “I know the kids are all into Facebook these days,” she says, “but I like things that I can actually feel.”
“Plus you kept on signing up to all those Facebook scams.” Ruby teases. There’s nothing in her gaze but fondness, and I wonder if I maybe initially misjudged her. “Free driftwood, really?”
“Nothing wrong with wanting free driftwood!” Louise flips through her album, cheeks going a bit pink.
“Babe,” Ruby reaches over to grab her hand. “The beach?”
Louise shows me a picture from maybe five or six years ago. It’s kind of blurry, but it’s of her barrier arm sculpture quite clearly being taken down by someone in a high-vis vest. It doesn’t seem like a happy memory. “Why’d you take a picture of this, Louise?”
“We have to feel all the emotions, David.” She says, and flips to another page of the album, “The good, and the bad.”
I suppose she’s right.
The image on the next page isn’t a photo, but rather a painting, taped hastily onto the page. It takes me a moment to make out some of the shapes. “What’s this one then?”
“Oh, that’s when I first met Ruby.”
“Really? Tell me about it.”
She tells me a long story about struggling through depression - “Zeke had to cook for me every night, David, you have no idea!” - as though Zeke didn’t already do that, I think, a bit meanly - drinking, making wild and lurid public art gestures - “I was arrested for two days actually,” - and then meeting Ruby one day when she was graffiting the side of the surf lifesaving club.
“She stopped me from getting arrested again.” Louise says, fondly. “Gave me a ride out of there on her motorbike. Then, it just sort of happened. David, I spent so long looking for a husband, and then a wife just fell into my lap.” She waves her ring at me. It's gaudy, with a huge blue stone, and it absolutely fits her expression.
Aw. That’s actually kind of sweet. Still baffling, but sweet.
Louise flips to another page, more recent photos of a wedding. She’s wearing a long, floral dress with odd splodges of colour on it, and Ruby’s wearing a suit. Someone who I guess is Zeke, but much older, is there too - dressed all in purple and with long dark hair.
It looks lovely. Genuinely.
“I made my dress, David.” Louise grins, pointing out little notes about the pattern and the colouration. “Can you tell?”
“It does… look like one of yours, Louise.”
Jeff - my camera guy, producer and continuity, all rolled into one - wants to grab some B-roll with Louise, so I take an off-mic walk with Ruby, whose attitude towards me has apparently thawed enough during our interview. There’s one thing that I don’t quite get, however. I had thought that everyone was just being nice to Louise about her art… but-
“Do you really like her art?” I ask. People definitely can’t accuse me of not asking the hard-hitting questions. We’re strolling through the suburb, across many, many unevenly concreted footpaths.
“Yeah.” Ruby says. She doesn’t seem annoyed at me, but I feel if I push too hard I might get slagged off a bit. “I do.”
“What do you like about it?”
She stops then, turning to face me, a fairly amused look on her face. I wonder if she’s had this conversation before. “David.” She says. “It might not be the most photo-realistic art in the world, but she’s passionate. She gives a fuck, and she’s stubborn. I love a woman with drive. She's made me better in all kinds of ways.”
And honestly, that’s fair enough. Love. It attracts all sorts. “What do you do, Ruby?”
“Oh, I’m a human rights lawyer.”
Honestly, I wouldn’t have guessed.
When we get back to the house there’s a car in the driveway. It’s lowered, and black, and there’s a strange contraption on the hood that looks both technical and life-threatening. Zeke must be home.
Inside, Jeff is filming Louise who - to my surprise - is cooking. The kitchen smells delicious, like peaches and spice. Zeke, who’s now tall and lanky, with dark dyed hair tied up in a ponytail, is lying on the couch, fiddling with something mechanical.
“Hey Rubes.” He says, and then squints at me. “Wow, David, you looked exactly the same.”
“You don’t.”
“Yeah.” He says, shrugging. “Felt like a change. You know.” He leaps up from the couch, all limbs, to stabilise his mum as she pulls a large jar of honey down from a top shelf. She laughs and he flings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug. Ruby joins them both, and in the faint dusk light, it’s a perfectly lovely image, one of fondness and honesty.
A true family.
“Guys. Please. Get off. I need to stop this boiling over.” Louise begs, from the middle of the hug, but neither of them let go until the pot does overflow, spilling peaches up and across the cooktop.
The Bay is full of surprises, that’s what I’ve seen today. Louise Cooper, settled and codependent? Taking charge of her own life? I love to see it.
Tomorrow brings a new Bay resident, and presumably, new surprises. I’m fascinated to see what Terry Pole has in store for me.