None of it mattered. As soon as I gave notice, the great weight of sadness that weighed me
down lifted off my shoulders and my attitude changed. In that moment, I decided that “poor
me” was no longer my battle cry. Melody and Sarah were right. I was twenty-eight with my
whole life ahead of me. Who was I to ignore that?

“Did you have to get her fired?” Steven interrupted my silent hear-me-roar mantra.

“I didn’t do anything. I just quit my job. Looks like she had the same idea. End of story.”

“Care—“

“Steven.” I glared at him, wishing actual daggers would shoot from my eyes and hit him in
the face.

Dropping his shoulders, he looked at me one last time. “It didn’t have to be this way.”

“There is no other way for it to be. You made sure of that when you fucked the intern in
our bed while I walked around oblivious with a two-carat engagement ring on my finger. Who
does that? A douche bag, that’s who. Now, please, close the door on your way out. I have
work to do.”

“Who are you? My Caroline doesn’t talk like that.”

“Your Caroline doesn’t exist anymore. Read the obituary. It reads: ‘Here lies Steven’s
Caroline. F**ked over by a pretentious douche bag and his plastic intern.’”
I was a bit alarmed at how good it felt to tell Steven what was on my mind. His gaze fell
to the floor and his shoulders sagged. He opened his mouth to speak again but must have
thought better of it.

It felt even better when I watched him close the door.

As soon as he left, I picked up the phone and dialed Sarah, knowing she was on her way
home.

“Did you do it?” Sarah asked in reference to part one of the plan.

“I did. And Betsy the Wonder Slut quit too.”

“A nice extension of the plan. I wasn’t expecting that.” I heard her chewing.

“Neither was I. And I told off Steven. I am so amped.”

“Excellent. Adrenaline is a beautiful thing.”

“What are you eating? It’s awfully loud.”

“Carrots. Not everyone can eat six million gallons of ice cream in a six week period and
still have a great ass.”

“True. So listen, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought and I think part two of the plan
would be good for me.”

“So you’re in?”

“I’m in.”

“Excellent.”

All weekend, I was inundated with a three-part plan. Melody and Sarah had done quite a bit
of thinking and came up with, what they deemed to be, a full proof method for helping me to
move on. Part one was complete. I quit my job. I’ll find a new one. Especially with the
help from the very kind human resources manager.

“Just so you know,” Sarah continued, “there is an addendum to the plan. Chapter one point
five if you will. You gave two weeks notice? You don’t have to stay longer than that,
right?”

“No. I’m done the Friday before Thanksgiving.”

“Good because the three of us are spending Thanksgiving in Jamaica.”

“What?”

“We all need to decompress, Care. I need to get away from school, Mel needs to back away
from her job for a bit and you need, well you need this too. I’m not taking no for an
answer. I’m booking the second I get off the phone with you.”

I guess spontaneity was the lesson for chapter one-point-five of the plan. “Book it.”

Part two was a little dicier, a little less old me and a lot more new me. But then again
Operation: One Night Stand was a go and I had two weeks to get up the nerve to go through
with it. At least I’d be on a plane out of town soon after so I’d be able to obsess about
it in a different country.

I was going to step out into the sun and live my life. And I’d spend a week in Jamaica with
my two best friends doing just that.