Under the Cornerstone (8 page)

“That makes sense,” I chuckle. “So I’m my own worst enemy?”

“Essentially, your anxiety and fear of abandonment are your biggest demons. They are the root of all the troubles you’re having. I think your friends leaving on the tour was what you needed. Their absence will give you some time to discover yourself without feeling as though you may be judged by them. That doesn’t mean they will judge you, but you will fear their judgment and subsequent abandonment.”

“I agree. I spend a great deal of time with the guys, so their absences would allow me time to work through some of these issues without their looming presences,” I respond.

“We only have a few more moments together today, but I’d like to discuss your evaluations. As I look through your answers I find that you don't have a personality type."

“I what?” I ask with raised eyebrows.

“I’m not saying you don’t have a personality, dear. You’ve just always been who everyone else wanted you to be. You were correct when you said you didn’t know who you are. So, our goal has to be to find you. Who is Noely inside? What does she like or dislike? How is she going to use her words to express her true feelings to other people, especially the ones she loves?”

“I’ve asked myself some very similar questions,” I admit.

“I’d like you to make an appointment for next week, and in the meantime, use the time between visits to create a list of goals for yourself.”

I leave her office with several suggestions for self-discovery books, and I walk to the local bookstore and purchase every single one of them. I sit in the nearby park and think about my goals. I think about the things I often held inside out of fear for vocalizing my true feelings.

For the next three days, I crafted my goals and it was therapeutic. I tried to imagine what the Noely who stuck to her goals would look like. How would she feel? Would she feel at peace, free from her past, and unrestricted to be whoever she really was? Would she be able to be so much like Johnny, Jimmy, Rich, and Ryan, who told the world to fuck off if they didn’t like what they saw. I’d like to be more like that, but first I have to find who is inside.

1. Don't be afraid to say no.

2. Do something because I want to.

3. Stop agreeing to do things because that's what the crowd wants. I can say I don't want to eat somewhere or decline to go to a certain bar.

4. It's okay to spend time by myself. What do I like to do? I like to paint, read, and work. I need hobbies that aren't linked to work. I should take up yoga and gym. Exercising is supposed to help people feel better and it boosts self-esteem and positive body image. Yoga could help me feel more centered. I want to volunteer at the local animal shelter once a week. It makes me happy to work with animals. 

5. I can be angry that my father abandoned me and my mother when I was eight. I can be pissed that he made a new family, and wouldn't take me in when my mother died. I can be angry that my stepfather treated me like an afterthought and attempted to molest me.

6. I don't have to feel ashamed that I am an orphan. I'm a survivor and I should always be proud of that. I should embrace the fact that I stayed out of the system, graduated high school, and obtained a college degree.

7. I'm beautiful and I should never feel that my past lessens my inner or outer beauty. I shouldn't feel like I'm damaged goods. I'm a survivor and I'm strong. 

8. I have to remember to take time to relax and when negative thoughts enter my mind, I need to deal with them instead of tucking them away. Never stop self-reflecting.

9. I want to laugh more. I'll watch more comedy on Netflix and attend some comedy shows at a club nearby. Internally, I have all this sarcasm and amazing wit that I’m often afraid to share with others. I want to embrace my humor instead of hiding behind my fear of being me. 

10. I don’t want to be afraid of what people think of me so much. I’d like to be free from that burden. I want to tell perfect strangers or even the people I love to “fuck off”.

It felt good to tell Sheila the truth about how I felt. It felt great to send that company-wide email telling the truth. I dropped my mask. I didn’t hold back the thoughts in my head and it’s the first time I remember feeling so free in my life. I need this on a daily basis. I need this to become ingrained into the fiber of my being.
 

Chapter Nine

The first thing I do is sign up for a yoga class at my local gym. Who would’ve ever thought yoga was so hard? In the week between appointments, I reflect deeply on the way I feel. It doesn’t take long for the guilt to set in about my friend’s and their families who gave up so much to take care of me. They didn’t make me become the shell of a person that I am, I did that. My circumstances didn’t help my fears, but I’m twenty-six and the root of most my anxieties can’t hurt me anymore.

I Skype with the guys each night and get a chance to talk to each of them with the exception of Johnny. I don’t ask to speak to him, I never see him in the background, and I never hear him. The only time I heard from him in the last two last weeks is last Sunday night. He sent a text.

Johnny: I miss you. You should be here with us.

Me: I miss you guys too. I hope you’re having the time of your life and making beautiful music every night. I’m so proud of you all.

I never heard from him again. But in my phone calls to the guys, I laugh freely and tell them everything that’s going on with me while they update me about life on the road. Part of me wishes I was there with them too. I’ve been with the band since the beginning of their formation, but I know I need this time away from them to find myself. I’ve said as much to them, and after several long emails, texts, and phone calls, they each understand and encourage me to grab the bull by the horns. I hope at least one of them tells Johnny about what is going on with me. I want him to know I’m okay, and that I took a left turn in life. I made that decision on my own. I want him to be proud of my new path of self-discovery. I want him to know that I’m taking charge of my own life for once and that I don’t need to be saved anymore.

At my second appointment with Dr. Webster, she relays how happy she is with sharing my journey with my friends. She’s beyond excited when I tell her how happy and encouraging they are with me. I leave her office smiling and with a new assignment to make a bucket list. The good doctor told me nothing was too big or small, silly or serious to put on the list. I make an appointment for three weeks later to update her on my progress.

A week later, I find myself in front of a tattoo shop owned by one of Jimmy’s friends. I’ve never gotten a tattoo before because I didn’t know what I wanted. To mark my body permanently, the art had to be deep and representative of me. I watched a documentary on one of my favorite artists, famed street graffiti artist Banksy, and I knew immediately that my first tattoo would be about his work. He’s managed to tag cities all over the world anonymously. He hides behind a mask in a way, but he controls it. He chooses to hide behind a mask and still share his art with the world at the same time. Banksy always incorporates a political or social message into his artwork that touches something deep inside of me.

I read a quote from him, “You live in the city and all the time there are signs telling you what to do and billboards trying to sell you something.” I don’t want to be told what to do anymore. I’m not buying anymore. The quote combined with his social anarchy messages made me realize at least someone out there is okay with me finding myself and telling everyone who has a problem with it to fuck off.

I step into the tattoo shop and am struck with a gorgeous purple-haired girl who looks like she woke up in the wrong era. She’s dressed in pinup style clothing and is tattooed everywhere. Her nose, lip, and eyebrow are pierced. She’s a knockout. I realize how empty my life has really been when I look at her. She shines so brightly. She isn’t the picture of corporate America my professors showed me. She isn’t the epitome of the college-educated woman working her way up the ladder in suits, but she’s fucking beautiful. I instantly realize I want to shine as brightly as her. I want to be that beautiful in my own way.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“Sorry. Yeah. I’m Noely King. I have a consultation appointment with Carmine,” I tell her still a little in awe of her beauty.

“Cool. I’m Sabrina. I spoke to you on the phone when you set it up,” she says. She looks down at the papers clutched in my hand. “Are those for Carmine?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“Can I see them?” she asks out of curiosity.

I step to the counter that she sits behind and hand her the Banksy pieces I carefully chose.

“Rock on. I fucking love Banksy!” she says with excitement. “Car!”

She’s still smiling down at my papers when a fucking man, a real man, steps from behind a curtain.

“Yeah?” he asks.

He steps over to see what Sabrina is looking at and then his eyes finally settle on me. He takes his time looking me up and down. It makes me want to squirm on the spot, but I offer a small smile instead in hopes he doesn’t realize how much his gaze unnerves me.

“Banksy?” he asks.

“He’s one of my favorite artists,” I reply.

“I like the pieces you chose,” he continues to stare on at me with intensity.

“Where do you want to put it?” he asks.

“I’d like to put the pieces together to make a sleeve for my right arm. I was thinking we could use distressed looking brick for filler between the pieces.”

“Holy shit! That’s fucking amazeballs!” Sabrina says. “I haven’t seen an idea this great in a while.”

Carmine shoots me a sly smile, “We get a lot of YOLO shit these days.”

I chuckle, “I’m going through the process of YOLO now. This isn’t one of those pieces, though.”

He nods at my assurance, “No. You put a lot of thought into this.”

“I wanted to see where you thought about placing each of the pieces,” I advise and he looks down to my waist and hips.

Maybe I shouldn’t let this guy tattoo me.

“Let’s take them back to my station and we’ll see what we can piece together,” he says.

I’m reluctant to follow him and be alone with him and all that man hotness. Sabrina walks from behind the front counter, laces her arm through mine, and escorts me back to Carmine.

She leans over and whispers, “From what I hear, he doesn’t bite… hard.”

I snort in laughter, “I think you’re the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”

“You’re very perceptive,” she says. “We should be friends. Any bitch who brings in Banksy for a full-arm sleeve instantly wins my heart over.”

“I’m assuming I’m the first?”

“Yep. We were meant to be friends.”

I notice a moment later she has the Banksy Anarchist Rat on her forearm. Maybe she’s right. Maybe we should hang out.

“What are you doing back here?” Carmine asks Sabrina gruffly.

“Escorting my new best friend.”

Carmine looks unimpressed.

“How many tattoos do you have?” he asks me.

“Um… none?” I respond with embarrassment.

They both look at me with shock.

“You want your first tattoo to be a full sleeve?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.

“Right on!” Sabrina yelps.

“You must be one bad ass bitch to want this, and maybe a little insane to be friends with Jimmy,” Carmine winks at me.

Jesus, my cheeks feel hot. It just got hot in here.

“Jimmy is my partner-in-crime,” I tell him.

“Then you are insane,” he laughs.

“Aren’t we all?” I wink at him.

He cocks his eyebrow at my wink, and I hold in the moan I’d like to make.

“I had a cancellation today. Do you want to start on the upper arm?” he asks.

“Fuckin’ A, she does,” Sabrina answers for me.

I almost cave in because Sabrina wants me to get the tattoo today and she’s so excited for me. But then I realize the reason I don’t want to give in is because I didn’t plan to get tattooed today. I wanted to make an appointment and plan. I’m not sure how one plans for a tattoo, but I’ve always been a planner. So I throw caution to the wind and let the new Noely make the decision for me.

“Let’s do it,” I smile so proud of myself for doing something against the grain and because I fucking want to.

They both seem excited by the prospect, and Sabrina and I hang out in the main area of the shop as Carmine assembles the pieces for my upper arm. I strike up a conversation about her piercings and the more I look at her nose piercing, the more I realize I want one. So, while Carmine continues to sketch up the tattoo, Sabrina pierces my nose.

“The redness will go down in a few weeks. Here’s a care packet, and I’m giving you my number so call me if it starts to look infected or you have any questions.”

“Thank you,” I tell her while suppressing my giddiness at getting my first piercing.

I instantly take a selfie and send it to Jimmy, Ryan, and Rich.

Jimmy calls moments later, “Welcome to the world of the freaks and misfits, Noely baby.”

I giggle, “Thank you James.”

“You talk to Carmine about your tat?” he asks.

“Yeah. We’re actually about to start it in a few.”

“Today?” he asks with surprise.

“I think he had a cancellation today,” I answer.

“Carmine never has cancellations and he’s always booked. Put his ass on the phone,” he growls at me.

“No.” I say and damn it feels good to say that two-lettered word. “I can get a tattoo when and wherever I please. You recommended Carmine,” I remind him.

“I clearly didn’t think this through. This isn’t about the fucking tattoo, now put his ass on the phone.”

“I love you, Jimmy, but I’m hanging up now. I’ll send pictures of the tat when I’m done. I love you,” I finish and end the call.

Moments later I hear a cell phone ring in Carmine’s booth.

“Fuck you too,” I hear Carmine say. “Would you rather I
let someone else tattoo her?” Pause. “She’s a grown ass woman, Jim.” Pause. “I’m not making any promises.”

I roll my eyes.