The Act|| Tarasia

Chapter Thirteen

Fantasia's POV

I stood in Taraji's kitchen, making a pot of hot lemon and honey tea while she rested on the couch, snuggled up with a big, fluffy blanket and her dog. She hasn't spoken much since we left her bedroom. She's just staring off into space, like she's still processing what happened to her. I can't blame her. It bothers the hell out of me that she doesn't want to make a police report, but right now she needs my support, not my opinion about how she should handle a traumatic event that happened to her. I can offer her my shoulder to cry on all day, and I plan on doing just that if it's what she needs, but when it's all said and done only Taraji knows what it's going to take for her to get past this and come back stronger. I wish that I could take all of her pain and endure it for her, but I have my own cross to bare. I can relate to her pain, but I can't take it on for her.

I poured her a mug of tea, joining her in the living room. It was hard not to notice the tiny splashes of blood on the walls. Looking at it makes me angrier and angrier that her attacker won't be brought to justice, not unless Taraji finds it in herself to speak up. I curled up on the opposite end of the couch from her, tucking my feet under my legs as my body was turned towards her. I rested my tilted head on my fist, quietly studying her body language. She's here, but she's not really here. I can tell that in her mind, she's still in the midst of her brutal beating. It's devastating knowing what happened to her, but what's even more devastating is not knowing. She's never going to go to the hospital for a rape kit, and she has made that abundantly clear. I'm not going to press the issue, but deep down I believe that she's only hurting herself by hiding from the truth, whatever that may be. There's no telling what was done to her while she was passed out, and I guess we'll never know. When she finally spoke, she sounded detached and void of any emotion. I wasn't phased, however. I knew how to handle her. I knew what she needed, and I was going to give it to her, even if she didn't quite know for herself.

Taraji: Those blood stains are never going to come out. I'll have to paint over them. Maybe I'll repaint all the walls. Maybe I should just buy a new house all together. There's nothing sacred about my home anymore. He took that from me.

Fantasia: If something can be taken from you, then it was never meant for you. If you want to paint over the stains, I'll help you. Having a 2 year old that likes to draw on the walls has given me a lot of practice with painting.

Taraji: Why are you so hell bent on saving me? Why are you being so sweet to me when I was such a bitch? You're warm where I'm cold.

Fantasia: I'm not trying to save you. Only God and yourself can save you. I'm simply being a friend to you. At this point, after today, we're sisters. It's that deep for me, and I know that it is for you too. You can try to deny it-

Taraji: I won't. Even though I tried my hardest to push you out, I'm glad that you stood up to me and decided to stick around.

Fantasia: Why do you do that? Why do you push me away when you want me close?

Taraji: I don't like how it feels to need somebody. It's scary. Dependence is scary for me. It gives another person the power to break you down or build you up whenever they decide to do so. I don't want to need anyone.

Fantasia: Everybody needs somebody. There's no shame in that. I'm not scared to admit that I need you. I need your rawness and your humility. Why are you trying to make yourself a villain for being headstrong. In my eyes, and the eyes of a lot of black women that used to be little black girls like me, you're a hero.

Taraji: I'm no hero, I'm a fraud. Everybody sees me as this strong, unstoppable force, but I'm just a phony. I guess I was born to act, because I've been playing the role of the strong black woman for a long time.

Fantasia: You're not a phony, Raj. You're a human being. You're allowed to break. Trust me when I say that I'll help piece you back together.

Taraji: I can't put that pressure on you or anyone else. People fold under pressure, and my mental state can't handle more let-downs.

Fantasia: I'm not people. I'm your friend. Your sister. I've only know you for a week, and yet I've already seen the sides of you that no one else was ever meant to.

Taraji: Is that what you wanted? To figure me out? To feel like you have some kind of special connection to me?

Fantasia: I never intended to find out so much about your personal life. But I do feel the connection. Don't you?

I stared into her eyes, silently pleading with her to agree. I need her to feel it, too. To acknowledge that our friendship is real, and that I haven't just been wasting my time. Instead of answering my question, she just leaned over and kissed my cheek. Even though we hug and kiss each other on the cheek every time we see each other, this cheek kiss feels different. It feels almost as dirty and sensual as a tongue kiss.

Taraji: Did you feel that?

Fantasia: Oh, you wanna play? I'll show you something you can feel, Raji.

Forgetting for a moment that she was physically compromised, I crawled across the couch and put her down flat on her back, hovering over her. If I was hurting her, she didn't show it. She had a big smile on her face despite her busted lip. I kissed the corners of her mouth, straddling the fence of what was and wasn't acceptable for a platonic friendship. The intimacy of the action was subtle, but it was there.

Taraji: I've always felt scared with someone on top of me, but with you I feel protected.

Fantasia: I'll do whatever I can to always make you feel that way, friend.

Taraji: Promise me, friend.

We locked pinkies and kissed them, causing us both to laugh at the childish gesture of loyalty. I realized that I had been on top of her for a long minute, but I felt comfortable there, and she seemed to be cozy underneath me. We stayed like this for awhile, her fingers tracing my tattoos that she could see and reach.

Taraji: You're so tatted up, it's sexy. I bet your husband loves it. Speaking of, don't you think he's missing you right now?

Fantasia: He probably is, but he'll be ok. I'm right where I wanna be.

We didn't talk about any more sad and depressing things. Taraji didn't need that. She asked me about every single visible tattoo that wasn't hidden by my clothes, and the meaning behind them. I answered every question she had, finding her curiosity to be adorable and endearing. Our conversation turned over to the movie, and we talked about our roles and our expectations for filming until we fell asleep right there on her couch.