Page 21 of The Life Experiment
With those words ringing in his ears, Angus did something he hadn’t done in a long time – he looked inward for an honest answer. He thought of his grand, empty penthouse. His privileged, directionless friends. His endless days and piles of belongings and full phonebook that contrasted sharply with his disconnection to everything and everyone.
‘No, I don’t think you’re happier if you’re rich,’ he replied. ‘In short-term ways, maybe, like enjoying buying something you want, but those highs don’t last forever.’
‘But if you’re rich, you never have to worry about losing your home or not being able to afford to eat,’ the woman pointed out.
Angus blinked. Never in all his thirty-four years had he had those worries. He couldn’t imagine what they felt like. With shame burning his cheeks, Angus forced a smile. ‘Very true. Maybe the secret is having enough money to live a good life, but not so much that it’s all you desire. That’s when I imagine it doesn’t make you happy. Not properly, anyway. People always say that money can’t buy happiness.’
‘That could be something people with no money tell themselves to feel better about being poor.’
‘Maybe, but I don’t think it would be a saying if it weren’t true.’
The woman tilted her head. ‘Is that how you decide if something is true or not – if there’s a phrase paired with it?’
Angus laughed. ‘It’s not my go-to tactic, but in this case, I stand by it. Money might buy things we’re told will make us happy, but when everything ends, it’s not objects we want around us. It’s people. So if that’s the case, how can chasing money lead to happiness?’
‘You’re right. Who wants to get to the end of their life and see they wasted it chasing the wrong things?’ the woman replied, so quiet her voice was almost a whisper.
‘Exactly. That’s got to be the worst end-of-life realisation there is.’
Angus meant the comment to be flippant, but when the woman’s eyes flicked to him, he was alarmed to see sorrow in them. He yearned to take her sadness away, but she spoke before he could try.
‘I used to think having money meant I’d be happy. That working hard and chasing security really mattered, you know?’
Angus nodded, but he didn’t know. All his life, Angus had been secure.
‘Now I wonder if it’s worth it,’ the woman continued. ‘I mean, what’s the point? Why are we here, buying overpriced coffee and acting like it’s a good way to spend our time?’
Angus looked around, the frivolity of his surroundings taking on a new significance in the shadow of her words.
‘Do you ever wonder why you get out of bed in the morning?’ she asked. ‘What it is that drives you to keep going?’
Angus tightened his grip around his drink as the directness of the questions set his soul on fire.
Suddenly, the woman’s face transformed. Shutters went down, covering her rawness with a bright, happy mask that looked painful to wear. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being maudlin.’
‘Not at all. Granted, the topic is a little dark.’
The woman laughed at this.
‘But it’s more interesting than thewhat’s your name, where are you fromchats you usually have when you meet someone like this.’
The woman bit back a smirk. ‘Do you meet a lot of people like this?’
‘No, actually. I’ve never approached someone in a cafe before.’
‘Does that mean they usually approach you?’ she quipped.
Angus coloured. ‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘I wouldn’t care if it’s what you meant.’
Angus fell silent, flummoxed by the knowledge that he wanted her to care because, weirdly, he cared. He cared more than he should for a man who had been speaking to a woman for less than ten minutes.
Angus’s spiralling was interrupted by the woman leaning forward, so close he could smell her perfume. Sweet, but not overpowering. A scent he wanted to bury his face in.
‘Have you ever had a bad day, Angus?’ she asked.
The sharp change in conversation threw Angus off for a second, but then he nodded. ‘Sometimes it feels like I’m having a run of bad days. A bad day marathon, even.’
