Taraji's POV
The first thing I did after getting settled into my hotel in D.C. was call Brandee and let her know that the plane landed safely and that I was ok. For the sake of complete transparency, I must admit that I am everything but ok. I'm going through an identity crises that started with a married woman. I'm losing my sense of self over another man's spouse. She may very well be my soulmate, but Kendall feels like she's his too, and at the end of the day he's the one who managed to get the ring on her finger. It feels like I'm playing a losing game, but Fantasia is a prize worth fighting for. Brandee is the safe, uncomplicated option. She doesn't have a husband and three kids with a baby on the way. She saved my life when I thought I didn't want to live anymore. She patched me up when I was torn apart. She should be a no brainer. So why isn't she? I'm hoping that being home will help me see my life through less fogged up lenses.
My son was the last person I called before putting my phone on do not disturb. I don't need any outside sources distracting me from what I came here to do. Anything that doesn't contribute to me fulfilling my purpose that I have set out for myself is nothing more than useless noise. I want Marcell to know that I'm here so that we can reconnect. I haven't seen him since I was in the hospital. I can't go months and months without talking to him like I did before. Seeing him will remind me of the things that are most important to me.
While waiting for Marcell to get done with his classes at Howard, I decided to go for a drive in my old neighborhood. As I cruised the streets, I noticed that not much had changed. It was comforting and sad all at the same time. Most of the stop signs were filled with bullet holes. It was nice to see kids outside jumping rope and blowing bubbles. Some of the kids that recognized me ran up to my car and asked for autographs. My heart sank to my stomach when I came up on my childhood home. It's still standing, and from the outside it looks like it hasn't been lived in or touched since I moved away to start my acting career in LA. Growing up in that house was rough at times, especially with my dad's mental health issues, but my parents made sure that I never went without.
I parked my car at the end of the street, cautiously getting out. I wrung my hands anxiously as I slowly walked up on the porch to the door. The spare key was still hidden behind the pillow on the rocking chair where my mom used to always keep it. I put it in the lock and twisted, surprised for some reason that it still worked. I released a shaky breath when the door creaked open. Some of my best and worst childhood memories were created in this house. As soon as I stepped foot inside, I felt like I was walking through a time machine. Everything was as my parents had left it, almost as if someone still lives here. All of our family photos are still everywhere. Why wouldn't my mom have packed them up and taken them with her? Maybe the memories were too painful for her after losing my dad and having her only child move thousands of miles away. My mom always has been a big softie with a tough exterior. I know she must see so much of herself in me. I will never forget the time that she was robbed at gun point and pistol whipped right in front of me. At the tender age of 6 years old, I watched my mom stitch her own gash and put on makeup, and get up and go to work like nothing had happened. That was the day that I learned what a true superhero was.
I went down the hall to my parents' master bedroom, going inside. Their closet was still full of clothes. My mom truly left all of her memories behind when she left this house. But why? Hopefully someday I can ask her in person. I ran my fingers over her clothes, remember all the times I would play dress up with her works clothes and Sunday dresses, falling over every time I tried to walk in her heels. She never yelled at me for playing in her makeup and essentially destroying her products. She always encouraged my creativeness and curiosity. I wonder what she would have to say about my situation with Fantasia.
My dad's side of the closet was nothing but army uniforms and combat boots. He was so damaged and traumatized when he came back home. His heart was forever changed, but the one thing that didn't change in his heart was the unconditional love it held for me. He was scary at times, but I knew that he would have never hurt me or my mom. If he was alive right now and I asked him for advice about Fantasia, he would tell me that there's nothing wrong with a squirrel trying to get a nut, because that's just the kind of man he was. He always saw the world for exactly what it was, but even in all the negativity he still managed to make me crack a smile. Because that's just the kind of man he was. A lot of my inspiration for Cookie Lyon came from him. I wish that he was around for me to tell him that to his face. He would have loved to have met Fantasia...Wait, why am I only thinking about Fantasia right now? My brain hasn't once uttered anything about Brandy since I stepped foot inside my childhood home. It's definitely a sign, but what is the sign telling me? Is it telling me that I should let Fantasia stay in my past and focus on building a future with Brandee, or is it telling me that Fantasia feels like home? It's hard to know.
My thoughts were intercepted by the sound of a car crunching over gravel and pulling up into the driveway. I ran out of my parents' room and into the living room, looking out of a window to see a car parking in the driveway. A woman got out of the car, and I realized that the woman was my mother. I didn't even know that she still lived here. We don't talk like we should, and we're both to blame. I can finally tell her everything that I've been wanting to tell her, but suddenly the urge to keep my mouth shut is very strong. I want to run away, but there's nowhere to go except out of the door that she's about to walk into.
What do you guys think her mom will be like? Do you think meeting her mom will give you guys some insight on why Taraji is the way she is with Fantasia and relationships in general?
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The Act|| Tarasia
FanfictionWhen the cameras cut, the scenes not captured by the lens are what the people really want to see. When the lights go down, dark desires come out.