49. John – Navel
He knew it was irrational. He knew it was weird. But he had always known there was little he could do about it.
From a young age, John Tracy had suffered from a most strange fear. Omphalophobia: the fear of navels.
His hands fluttered over his stomach. It was there, hiding under the folds of his faded t-shirt. Silent. A permanent reminder of one very fateful day.
John had always been a little freaked out about navels. Or belly buttons. The description irritated him more than he could say. It didn't even make sense! It wasn't a button. If you pressed it – not that John ever would – nothing would happen. It wasn't a button. Regardless of whether you called it a navel or a button, he had never like the look of them or the feel of them.
One day, though, things changed. On that day, beer had been an enemy. He had never made any good decisions under its influence. Had anyone?
"It'll be fine, Johnny!"
"You need to face your fears, right?"
"C'mon! You're a grown-ass man. Let's do it!"
His fellow Harvard alumni had decided that, as a true graduation, Tracy needed to face his final fear. Either that or they were going to throw their valedictorian in the Charles River. In the haze of alcohol, John had chosen the former. It was the better of the two choices, right?
The next morning when he woke, an excruciating pain in his head was not the only agony he faced. There was something else, too. Something…wrong.
With the slowest of movements, he lifted the sheet from his naked torso and looked down.
And then his stomach rebelled.
"What the fuck have you done to me?" he yelled loud enough to wake all of his hungover compatriots.
Now, John lay in bed, his hands fluttering over his stomach. For the longest time afterwards, he had barely been able to look at himself, and certainly didn't want to touch it. However, he couldn't cope with the idea of some kind of infection. So he had to touch it. He had to clean it.
He had to look at it.
Like a rubbernecker at a car crash, like the people of old who watched executions. Fear or not, he had to look at it. He had to face his fear.
Edging his t-shirt up just enough to reveal his abdomen, John smiled. There was the reason. There was the way he had managed to overcome his irrational fear – even if he had done it under duress and in a most unconventional way.
Lingering in his navel was evidence of one night and a decision he had thought was a mistake.
A piercing – a belly button ring. And on the end of it? A sapphire star.
He touched it with one finger and smiled. Omphalophobia: the fear of navels. Another fear overcome; another mountain conquered.
