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“Cailin, we’re letting you go.”
“Excuse me? You’refiringme?”
“I know this may come as a shock. You’ve been with this company for years and have developed so many award-winning campaigns.”
“I’ve brought in millions of dollars, Troy. No one is more qualified than I am to do this job.”
“I’m sorry, Cailin. But part of the terms of agreement for the merger were that they keep their PR team.” Troy tapped his fingers on his desk. Perhaps he was just as uncomfortable as me with the conversation.
“I see what’s happening here. They want a man leading the company initiatives. I’m being pushed out because I’m a woman. Plain and simple.”
“It’s not that he’s a man. He’s just more passionate about pharmaceuticals. You have to admit, you don’t really have that spark anymore. I know it may not seem like it, but I’m doing you a favor by letting you go, instead of keeping you on to work with their team. You’ll get a generous severance package and the opportunity to figure out what you’re really passionate about for work.”
“I hate that you’re making that decision for me. I’ve dedicated my life to this job, you know that.”
“Please don’t cry, Cailin. Now is a good time for you to evaluate things.”
“Over all these years, we’ve gotten really close, Troy. And it hurts to lose my job at the same time my marriage is ending. But I do think you’re right. I may have had an office with a window overlooking New York City and a fancy title, but I don’t feel like I belong here. I’m not sure where—or who with, for that matter—I belong, but I’m going to find out.”
“I know you will. And I will be happy to be a reference for you. Take your time to pack your things and say your goodbyes.”
With that, I walked out of Troy’s office and vowed to find work that gives me creative freedom and purpose. And I’ll get that. As soon as I move out of this condo of false hope, settle into my new apartment, and update my resume.
I walk through each vacant room of my condo to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind and eventually find my keys next to the kitchen sink. I look out the living room window overlooking New York City. Millions of people, each with a story as to why they are walking down the sidewalk outside the building. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that’s about to walk down this particular city street for the last time.
* * *
I need anthems, I decide, as I choose a playlist for my car ride home. Songs that make me happy and fill me with power. I can and will find a new love. Obviously, I choose my boy band mix. This playlist features my favorite songs from 5 Leo Hearts, as well as my favorite groups from England and Ireland. All five-member harmonies that make me swoon and believe that rom-com love really exists.
As I drive down the highway, I put my windows down, and turn up the radio as a solo verse from Jax comes on. He has the sexiest voice, hands down. It’s rugged and rough, not smooth and youthful like the other members. That’s probably why he never got photographed in the center of the group for pictures. He wasn’t America’s sweetheart and that’s why I crushed so hard. Jax rocked tattoos and scruffy facial hair. He wore mostly black clothing to further establish his identity in the group. I wondered what he smelled like. He was edgy and mysterious and everything I wanted in a boyfriend when I was in my early twenties.
An hour later, I arrive back to my hometown. I pull into the lot of my new apartment and see Gemma standing outside with balloons. As I walk over to her, I cover my face in my hands and then look up to quickly scan the area for passersby.
“Surprise!” Gemma is wearing a maxi dress and straw hat, which signifies summer mode in Jersey, but would never be seen on the streets of NYC.
“It sure is,” I say. “What are you doing here and why do you have balloons? This is so embarrassing.”
“I just wanted to officially welcome you home,” Gemma says. “How was your ride?”
“It was great. I listened to 5 Leo Hearts. Do you remember when you were caller number 100 on the radio and won tickets for us to watch the show from the VIP area in front of the stage?”
“Those were the days. I wonder when Stella is older if she will beg me to take her to pop concerts. That would be amazing.”
“We should start getting her into the music now. She’ll grow up loving it. Where is she, by the way?”
“Home, napping with the nanny. I snuck out to go to the shop to check on things, but it’s a slow day so I decided to wait here in my car like a creep and read a book until I figured you might arrive.”
We open the door to my apartment and are greeted with the smell of fresh paint. Crisp white walls stare back at me: a fresh canvas for whatever mood I want to create. This will be my sanctuary. The apartment has a mostly open floor plan. You enter into the living room, which is open to the kitchen. There’s a small dining area and I already imagine placing an accent rug under the table to define the space. We wander into the spacious bedroom, which boasts a walk-in closet that I can’t wait to fill. The bathroom is clean and recently renovated with white subway tile. I’m going to add splashes of color to make everything pop. Maybe lots of greenery and bamboo.
“This is really cute,” Gemma says. We walk back into the living area and wait for the movers. I can tell her mind is also going in circles with décor ideas.
“It’s perfect for what I need. Plenty of natural sunlight for selfies, closet space, and I can easily access outside to walk the dog.”
“Wait, what dog?” Gemma asks.
“Well, the dog I am going to get,” I say. Putting this intention out into the universe will help me claim it. “One of my post-divorce goals is to adopt a dog and shower it with all the love in the world.”
“Dogs provide more love and loyalty than men. I’m sure there’s a study somewhere that proves it.”
