Page 26 of A Simple Love

For a moment, we concentrated on our food. The burger was delicious, the salad crisp and tasty, and the potato wedges coated in some sort of spicy mixture. It was reminiscent of my favorite meal as a teenager, which only proved I’d never really grown up.

Kassie met my eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“You’re not drinking. You don’t like wine?”

“No, I do like wine. But you’re right, I’m not drinking.” I sighed, leaning my elbow on the table as I picked up my water, swirling it in the glass. “I’ve been using alcohol as a distraction, a crutch. I’m not an alcoholic but it’s a dangerous path, so I’m limiting what I drink and when I drink it.”

“A crutch?” she asked.

“For lack of a better word. I was unhappy, unsure what to do with my life, feeling trapped. It’s very easy in the world I live in to get lost in a different kind of vice to help pass the time between working. It’s easy to get bored.”

“Why were you unhappy?”

I decided to be honest with her. I wanted her to be honest with me, so it was only fair. “I didn’t like my life. What I thought I wanted, what I thought would make me happy, no longer did. The only time I felt settled was when I was working. When I could lose myself in whatever character I was creating so that I didn’t have to be Oliver.”

“Is being Oliver so bad?”

I shrugged, draining my water and refilling the glass. “When I’m working, no. During interviews, no. Helping out on a cause that means something, no. When I’m alone and looking at the sum of my life…well, let’s just say I don’t like what it adds up to.”

“Which is?”

“Loneliness.”

She reached over and grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I nodded, wrapping my hand around hers and holding it tight. “Money, fame, and fortune don’t talk to you when you’re alone. They don’t make you laugh. They don’t listen to you about your day. I always thought, once I was rich, I’d be happy. But the bottom line is, the old adage money can’t buy you happiness is actually fucking true.”

Her eyes met and held mine. Her soft green gaze was filled with understanding. She squeezed my hand. “Sometimes our dreams change and what we thought were our goals change,” she whispered. “I’m proud of you for recognizing that you needed to make a change and that you did it. That you’re here.”

“Don’t be too proud. Annie pushed me into it, but I’m glad too.” I released her hand. “I didn’t mean to ruin dinner.”

“You didn’t,” she insisted. “Thank you for telling me that. For being honest.”

I finished my burger, wiping my fingers on the napkin and topping up my water glass.

“I’ll just refill that,” Kassie said as she reached for the jug.

She grimaced a little as she stood, and I frowned in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, but I noticed she rubbed the spot in the middle of her back as she waited for the water and ice to fill the jug. I had noticed the same action earlier when she was trying to start the motor on the lawn mower. A grimace of pain had crossed her face more than once.

“Did you hurt your back earlier?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, it’s an old injury,” she said quietly, setting the jug on the table and sitting back down. “It flares up every so often.”

“Old injury? Like something from when we were in school?” I tried to recall if she’d hurt herself during one of our gym classes or at some other time, but I couldn’t think of anything.

“No,” she replied, pushing her salad around on her plate and not looking at me. “It happened when I was living in Toronto.”

“When what happened?”

“I, ah, I fell backward into a chunk of concrete. I cracked a vertebra, and it took a long time to heal. It flares up every so often.”

“Jesus. How did that happen?”

“It was an accident,” she said briefly.