The Curves Ahead - Wattpad Award Winner

Chapter 10

For three days, I'd been swanning around site without any makeup, and nothing fancier done to my hair than a bun or ponytail. That simply wouldn't do for filming, so the hair and makeup lady had outlined my eyes in black and glossed my lips. My hair was poker-straight, hanging down my back to my bra-strap in a chocolate waterfall.

Facing the camera, I was proud in my orange shirt. I stood at the lookout with the mine behind me, and spoke from the heart.

"Welcome to the Super Pit. It may be the biggest open gold-mine in the world, but the miners who work here are only a thousand among over a quarter of a million mining industry employees in Australia alone.

"The people who work here have heart and dedication. There is a generalisation in this country that everyone in the mining industry earns 'easy' money. I can tell you personally, nothing out here comes easy. Work is hard, recreation is limited, and relationships are damn near impossible.

"Imagine for a moment that every day, you had to spend twelve hours alone in a dark box, with nothing to do but torture yourself with your own thoughts. And when you escaped that box, you only wanted to drink until you couldn't think any more. Your nights are equally lonely, and every day is the same.

"This is the reality facing a vast majority of mine workers, and although their community is incredibly supportive, sometimes even best friends aren't enough to help. When depression crowds your mind like a dark demon and your options seem bleak, so often, people make a choice they can't take back."

We spent the rest of the day filming around the pit. We interviewed Jacko, Jake and Nora, lightly touching on the harder aspects of the job and highlighting the camaraderie on site. Steve gave a heartfelt plea to camera, begging for more awareness of alcoholism and suicide in remote communities.

The crew joined us at the hotel that night, capturing just another weeknight of mateship diluted with drinking. We didn't film long, and the producer, camera man and sound guy joined the others at the bar, laughing and lining up shots.

Still feeling distrustful of the same men who had almost certainly been involved with the vile wager, I grabbed Joel and Jake. "Let's get out of here."

"Where do you want to go, pretty lady?" asked Joel, raising a saucy eyebrow.

"Anywhere. Just away from here."

We ended up dragging Heather out and going back to the apartment, drinking from a large bottle of Absolut and discussing the universe with all its eccentricities.

Joel was going pretty hard, drinking the vodka straight. Around midnight, he passed out on Heather's bed. She was already snoring on the reclining chair in the lounge, so Jake and I went out to the wooden benches on the balcony, wrapped in white fluffy hotel robes against the chill of the night.

We'd gone deep; Jake had been telling me about his theory that music could actually be used as mental health therapy, and I confided in him that the city could be just as lonely as the country.

"Anywhere can be lonely," mused Jake, his blue eyes appearing almost black in the subdued light. "You can be surrounded by mates and still be lonely."

"Is that what happened to Jason?" I wouldn't push, but I wanted to ask.

"I don't know what happened there." Jake rubbed his temples, as if smoothing away the hurt. "He seemed fine, you know?"

"How did it go down?"

He took a hefty scull of his drink before answering. "The three of us were going fishing. We'd organised it for weeks; we were gonna take off on Friday arvo, drive four hours to Esperance and head out on the ocean for the weekend.