This is a part 2. For the part 1, click here.
Brittany blinked. Then refreshed her page. But it was still there—a comment from Ms. Taraji P. Henson herself. Brittany couldn’t believe it. She didn’t know that idols actually engaged with their fans, and Brittany certainly didn’t consider herself to be Ms. Henson’s biggest fan. But there it was. I will show you how.
Show me how? Brittany thought. Isn’t Ms. Henson notoriously single?
Taraji flipped through the May issue of Essence that featured her on the cover. It was one of the last times she was able to be photographed—since her fanbase had grown, so had her power, which in turn affected the frequency on which she existed. Now, most cameras could not make enough sense of her wavelengths to capture an image of her that was readable to the human eye—just one more “surprise” addendum to the secret world of IdolHood that existed within Hollywood.
Friends and family said she “changed” since she’d become an idol—she laughed ruefully at how right they were. Taraji knew without knowing that her existence would diminish when her fame did, but something compelled her to continue to strive…it was the same fever that gripped all of the other idols in her industry: at first, you’re just trying to make it. But then you get a taste of the fame and you see how being worshipped changes you; it’s addicting. Physically, Taraji had never looked or felt better. She hadn’t slept or eaten in months—she didn’t need to anymore. Her facebook fan page newsfeed was more nourishing than any multivitamin, and the energy she got from her fans’ thoughts and prayers was more energizing than any night’s sleep. Taraji knew she was something other than human, but she suspected that what she was, was something better.
“She commented on my status,” Brittany told CiCi. “Did you see it?? She said, ‘You can. I will show you’ How does she even know what I mean?”
“I don’t know girl, but I’m looking at your page right now and I don’t see no comment,” CiCi replied.
“Must be the privacy settings, because I’m looking at it too and I still see her comment clear as day. How does she even know what all three I’m referring to??”
“You know those idols,” CiCi said. “They have a way…they always know their fans.”
“You right bout that girl, but listen. Eddie is coming over tonight, so I gotta go take a shower and straighten up my place. I will talk to you tomorrow.”
“Eddie is comin over tonight?!” CiCi repeated. “I thought y’all were done!”
“Well we are friends and friends go over their friends’ houses,” Brittany replied coyly. “He’ll probably spend the night, but that don’t mean he gettin’ any.”
“Haha I know that’s right girl! Hold out on him! Love you.”
And with that, they hung up.
Even though they weren’t having sex, Eddie still spent the night regularly. Brittany told herself she could handle this because they weren’t having sex, but she secretly wondered if his spending the night meant more to her than it meant to him. Now when he spent the night with her, the two would sleep completely entangled, faces inches apart, and wake still intertwined. That had to be intimacy, right? Brittany asked herself. You can’t fake the way you sleep with someone…even if the cuddling before sleep were feigned, if it weren’t actually real, he would move away during the night. Right?
Just then her cell phone buzzed, and the facebook icon appeared on the screen. A message from Taraji P. Henson.
Come to LA. I want to show you some things. Your eticket has been sent to your Gmail account.
And then her Gmail icon flashed.
Taraji had never before interfered so directly with a fan’s life, and there was nothing about this particular fan’s situation that made it so exceptional. But listening to her instincts is what had led her to this ever rising plane of existence, so Taraji had learned to follow them in these sorts of matters. Something kept telling her to reach out to Brittany Nunya. Somehow, it felt like helping her would allow Taraji to help herself.
“So do you still think that there’s a God, then?” Brittany asked, licking the last of her Pinkberry frozen yogurt from her spoon. They were walking down the street. Taraji couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged in something mundane. Due to her heightened plane of existence, Taraji had to guard others from her image carefully, adding tangible elements to her intangible makeup with wigs, and oversized shades and jackets. She’d started to notice the sensitivity of those who were pure humans to her unaltered self: the way they averted their eyes, the way they froze or became frenzied. The same was true of her voice: she had to be sure she spoke slowly and low during the few times she had to speak directly with a fan. Add to that the sport some photographers made of capturing her high-frequency image, and a simple stroll down the street became complicated for most idols.
At first, Taraji worried that bringing a girl from a place like Virginia, virtually devoid of idols, to Hollywood, a place that practically radiated on its own from the fallout of idol energy, might harm her, especially since the express intent of the visit would be to spend time with the idol. Taraji noticed, though, that those who spent an extended amount of time in her presence adjusted to her frequency and were able to perceive her without difficulty, and so she decided she was not worried about inflicting any lasting damage on Brittany by having her come to LA.
“Do I believe in God?” Taraji repeated, carefully monitoring her cadence and inflection. “Of course. In fact, I can say I believe now more than ever. If my fans’ adulation can heighten my existence, then how much more could worshippers throughout the world over the course of millennia heighten God’s? I can’t say I believe in a Christian sense anymore, but in a God? Absolutely—I’m proof of the process.”
They stopped for Brittany to toss her frozen yogurt in the trash and Brittany thought about how strange it was that she would be walking through Downtown LA with Taraji P. Henson on a regular Tuesday afternoon.
Brittany turned toward Taraji and tried to look directly at her. It was like starting at the sun. Brilliant, but it made her eyes water. She looked away.
“Why did you bring me here?” Brittany asked.
“There’s something I want to show you,” Taraji replied.
- The Omniscient Taraji P. Henson (bryoneyh.com)