Rapunzel Untangled

  “Do you understand what can happen, Rapunzel, if we relax our vigilance for just one moment, if we become careless?”

  Rapunzel nodded as soon as the first word escaped her mother’s mouth. “I do know, and I’m very sorry. I missed it somehow. It won’t happen again.”

  Her mother suddenly pulled her into her painful embrace, nearly smothering Rapunzel with her overbearing fright. “No, it must not happen again. You know the consequences.”

  Rapunzel nodded against her mother, mainly with the objective of trying to find a pocket of oxygen. As suddenly as Gothel grabbed Rapunzel, she then released her. “Why this sudden interest in Cook?” her mother asked suspiciously, all concern forgotten.

  Rapunzel stumbled at the sudden freedom. She put a hand against the countertop, regaining some balance in the shift. “Well, Mother, it’s just that this is my whole world, this room. I’ve never seen the rest of the house. I have no idea what it looks like. I don’t know who else works here, because all I ever hear about is Cook. I don’t even know our address.” She couldn’t keep the exasperation from her tone.

  Her mother pushed up against her, her face inches from Rapunzel’s own, a blaze in her eyes Rapunzel had never seen before.

  “Why would you need to know the address here, Rapunzel? What difference could that possibly make to you?” Rapunzel cowered against the sharp edge of the counter. Suddenly her mother relaxed and soothed her hands down Rapunzel’s arms in a frantic petting motion. “You don’t need to worry your little head about such things. Must you be such a burden? Just forget about your silly, unimportant questions.”

  She turned toward the door, scooping up the folder on her way past. At the door, she turned back, eyes narrowed, empty smile pasted on her face. “Rapunzel, put thoughts of a cure from your mind. There is no cure.”

  With those words she left the room, leaving a stunned Rapunzel trying to figure out what had just happened. She looked around at the dismal gray walls that seemed to loom closer than ever. She’d lived within these walls as long as she could remember. The thought of never stepping outside them, never seeing another person’s face besides that of her mother . . . of never even knowing who lived or worked within her home overwhelmed her with sadness. How was she supposed to continue on without hope?

  She turned to her computer and the one person who had become her refuge. He was offline, so she decided to leave him a message.

  My mother leaves for her trip next week. Do you want to

  She stared at her flashing cursor. She stood and walked back out into the main room, then into the other alcove with the window. She opened the window, surprised to see Angel perched in the tree. The bird turned her head toward Rapunzel and chirped, leaving her perch to land on the windowsill.

  “I’m sorry, Angel, I don’t have any seeds for you.” She turned an empty palm over to show the bird, who hopped over until she resided on Rapunzel’s palm. She pecked lightly at her palm twice before settling down, wings tucked under. Rapunzel grinned as she cautiously brought her second hand up. When she first stroked Angel’s head she expected the little bird to flit away. Instead, the bird closed her eyes as if in pleasure. Rapunzel continued stroking, and Angel sat still, turning her head occasionally from side to side as if to encourage Rapunzel to not miss a single spot. Then, chattering, the bird flew off. Rapunzel laughed, her mood suddenly lifted.

  With renewed determination, she walked back to her computer and finished her message.

  My mother leaves for her trip next week. Do you want to come over one night?

  She clicked the send button without trepidation.

  chapter

  *.*

  7

  .**

  Seriously? You want me to come over while your mother is away?

  Rapunzel realized how her request must sound.

  If you’re uncomfortable coming over without a suitable chaperone, I will understand.

  Uh . . . that’s not what I meant. Are you uncomfortable without a chaperone?

  She wasn’t sure how to answer that. What was proper in this situation? She hadn’t really thought her request through. She’d only been thinking that she wanted to talk to someone else in person. Even if it killed her.

  I promise your virtue is safe with me.

  Rapunzel’s cheeks burned.

  Oh, I didn’t question that. Is it okay that I asked you over, or is that a strange request?

  Not a strange request at all, and one I’ve been hoping for. I’ve wanted to meet the mysterious Rapunzel G for a while now. Not related to Kenny G, are you?

  Who? And please don’t ROLF at my ignorance.

  Well, since I don’t have a LAUGHING FLOOR to roll on, I think I can manage to refrain.

  Rapunzel’s laughed at herself.

  Oops. I meant . . . well, you know what I meant.

  Yeah, I do. And please, please know I’m grinning as I happily accept your invitation. When and where?

  Her mind raced at the thought of having him here, in her rooms. A different face. Someone other than her mother.

  She leaves Friday morning. Do you want to come Friday night? And here at my house, I suppose.

  Friday night works well. Neither wrestling nor basketball has started yet, so I still have a few free minutes in my life. I do have practice after school but I could come around 8. You want me to bring a pizza? And FYI, I have no idea where you live. An address would be helpful for that.

  Rapunzel suddenly realized she really hadn’t thought this through. Not only did she not know her address, she wasn’t sure how she was going to get him into her room. Obviously he couldn’t just march up to the front door and come in.

  Hold on a minute.

  She hurried over to the window and, after looking around to make sure no one was near, opened it. She looked down. The ground was at least twenty feet below. While the turret was built of rough stone, she doubted he could climb it. He could climb the tree, but then how would he get from the tree to the window? It was six feet away.

  Her eyes fell on the outbuildings. There might be a ladder in one of them, but she had no way of knowing for certain. Frustrated by her discovery, she huffed out a breath. A bird tweeted nearby, catching her attention. Angel flittered overhead. As Rapunzel watched, the bird flew just below and landed on the trellis that hugged the side of the house.

  “Hey, Angel,” she called. “Wish I had time to play, but I have Fane on hold.” Angel chattered loudly at her. Rapunzel pulled her head back inside, placing her hands on the bottom of the window to close it, when she realized what she had just seen. She stuck her head back out the window, glanced down at the bluebird, and laughed. “Angel, you’re genius.”

  She went into the kitchenette and grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds from her drawer. She ran back to the window and scattered them on the ground below. Angel chirped and dove down to the proffered treats. Rapunzel closed the window and walked back to the computer.

  I’m back. Can I ask how you you’d feel about climbing a trellis?

  You are always full of surprises. That’s nowhere near any question I’ve ever been asked before. And I’m kind of curious what it has to do with pizza and your address.

  Before she could type a reply, a new message from him popped up.

  Wait! Are you saying I need to climb a trellis to get to you? Awesome!

  Yes. I can’t let you in the front door, so you’ll have to climb up to my room. If I can discover my address, then I’ll tell you where to find the correct trellis. There might be more.

  You GENUINELY don’t know your address? Huh. Weird. Okay. Maybe I can find you by your last name if it’s not common.

  I know the name of my house. Does that help? It’s actually my own last name.

  Your house has a name? Can’t be too many of those, so maybe that will help. Especially if it’s also your last name and your last name isn’t Smith or Lee.

  Rapunzel took a deep breath, then plunged.

  My last name is Gothel.
I live at Gothel Manor. Do you know where it is?

  The cursor flashed for so long without response Rapunzel thought he’d signed off. It showed him as still online, though. Maybe he was Googling the information. She smacked her forehead. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that all this time? She probably could have discovered her own address in that same manner and not had to let him know that she didn’t know where she lived. She moved her mouse to open a new tab for that very purpose when his message came.

  Sorry. Just a bit stunned, here. Are you saying you live at GOTHEL MANSION??? THE Gothel Mansion? I’m having a hard time believing that. You’ve been playing me this whole time? Is that the reason for all the secrecy? I’m just kind of feeling . . . disbelieving, I guess.

  Rapunzel stared at his words. Was her home well known? Why did he call it Gothel Mansion instead of Gothel Manor? And why did he think she was kidding about living here?

  My mother calls it Gothel Manor, so maybe that’s different?

  No, Rapunzel. There’s only one that I know of. It has to be the same. Are you telling me the truth here?

  Yes, of course.

  She made a decision.

  Okay, time for me to stop being so “secretive” as you say. But I have good reasons for being so. I have a disease

  She stopped and deleted the last four words.

  I can’t go outside because if I do I will get very sick. I live in a specific area of the house. It’s the southeast corner. I only know that because I have a compass. I don’t know my address because I’ve never had any reason to need to know it. I suppose I could have Googled it, but honestly the thought never crossed my mind. Is it weird that I live here?

  There was no response again for a few minutes before he answered.

  No, not weird, just . . . never mind. So you live in the tower?

  Uh, the tower? I don’t know. Is it a tower?

  Yes, it is. I know where it is. I’ll be there Friday at 8.

  Rapunzel sensed the difference in his tone. Something wasn’t right.

  Rapunzel, promise me one thing.

  Okay.

  Don’t Google your house.

  chapter

  *.*

  8

  .**

  Rapunzel’s mother joined her for breakfast as usual on Friday morning. Rapunzel’s entire being thrummed with nerves with the anticipation of both her mother leaving and her scheduled visitor.

  “It’s only six days, Rapunzel. You’ll be fine.” She handed Rapunzel a small phone. “I’ll call you every day. Do you know how to work this?”

  Rapunzel shook her head. Of course not. She’d seen them on the Internet and in some of the movies she’d watched but had never held one. Her mother took a matching phone from her purse and pushed a button. The phone in Rapunzel’s hand vibrated, startling her.

  “Push this button here,” her mother pointed. She did so, and after a few moments her mother guided it to her ear. Gothel mirrored the gesture and when she spoke Rapunzel heard her words echoed in the phone. “This is how we will stay in communication.” Her mother pushed another button, showing Rapunzel what to do to end the call. “I’ll call you every evening at six. Now, Rapunzel, you remember what we spoke about?”

  “Yes,” she said, repeating the words that had been drilled into her daily since her mother first told her she’d be going. “Brush my hair each night in seventy-two strokes, stay away from the window, and keep my rooms clean.”

  “Yes, that’s a good girl.” She stroked Rapunzel’s hair before pulling her into a quick, awkward embrace. “Stay safe. There’s much riding on you.”

  “I know,” she answered. As her mother left, Rapunzel turned back to the rooms that had always felt comforting and familiar. They now felt empty and cold. She shivered and went into the alcove to complete her homework. Once she finished with that, she opened the movie streaming site. She searched through the main page until she found one that looked interesting.

  It downloaded quickly and she tried to concentrate on it, she really did, but Rapunzel couldn’t keep her mind off Fane. They’d talked every night on Facebook, but it felt restrained somehow. She wondered if it was his nervousness of their impending meeting . . . or if it was something else.

  She was just about to shut the movie off when the two main characters began kissing. She leaned back in the chair and watched, touching her own mouth as she watched the action. Would she ever be kissed? Probably not. One kiss could kill her. As the two characters pulled away and gazed into one another’s eyes, she felt the pang of loss. No one would ever look at her that way, no one would ever hold her like that. She snapped the computer off and strode from the alcove, brushing her tears away.

  She scrutinized the room, making sure it was perfectly clean and sterile. On a whim she decided to bake cookies. Two hours later, the room once again sterile but aromatic with the scent of fresh baked cookies, she walked into her bedroom. She sat at her vanity and looked at herself.

  She’d watched a movie recently in which a plain girl was made beautiful by making herself up, subsequently wanted by the movie’s hero. She wished she had some makeup to make herself look better, but it wasn’t allowed. She touched her plaited hair. She pulled the heavy end up and released the tie, fingering the braid until the strands hung free. She brushed it until it gleamed.

  She looked at the clock on the microwave. 7:45. Her stomach tightened. She moved to the alcove, opening the window in case he came early. There wasn’t any light in the alcove. It was dim enough she felt safe standing there waiting. She saw him when he came around the corner of her house and her nerves, already taut, felt as if they would snap.

  “Rapunzel!” he called in a loud whisper.

  “I’m here,” she called back in the same manner. She leaned forward a little so he would see where she was. He waved.

  “I’m coming up.”

  She watched as he tugged against the trellis, testing its security. As he started to climb, she pulled the mask from her pocket and secured it around her ears. Her quick breathing pressed loudly behind the mask, and she could hear her heart pounding. At the last moment, as his hand touched the windowsill, she made a decision, ripping the mask from her face and shoving it into her pocket.

  As his face came into the window, she could see the outline of him, but it was too dim for details. Still, her pulse sped up. In just moments she’d be seeing another person up close, other than her mother, for the first time in her life.

  “Hi,” he said, and she could see his stark white teeth against the darkness.

  “Hi,” she answered.

  He pulled himself over the ledge, half falling into the alcove with a laugh. “You have a light in here?” he asked. She closed the drapes, leaving them in deep darkness before she clicked the dim lamp on, creating muted light. As he got his first look at her, he stopped moving. His mouth dropped a bit as he gazed at her. For a moment Rapunzel wondered if this was a mistake, if she’d made a horrible error in judgment by allowing him in. Then he swallowed, loudly.

  “Wow, you’re really . . . beautiful,” he said slowly on an exhaled breath.

  Her cheeks heated up, and she raised her hands to touch them, vaguely worried about why they suddenly felt so warm. She lifted the corners of her mouth in a small smile, embarrassed by his words.

  “Um . . . thank you, I suppose,” she said quietly.

  He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of something, then continued to his full height. Now it was her turn to be stunned. She’d had some idea of what he looked like, of course, from his photos on Facebook. He was tall, as she’d known. His dark hair was pushed back from his forehead, a thick lock falling onto one temple, landing above a short sideburn. His eyes were dark in the muted light, lips full above a patch of dark whiskers on his chin. She came to just below his shoulder. He was trim but substantial somehow, broad shouldered. He had on jeans and a long-sleeved polo shirt pushed up to just below his elbows, revealing muscled arms. As handsome as she’d
thought him in the photos, he was even more so standing before her.

  “Would you . . . ” she began nervously, sweeping one hand toward the sitting room. “Would you like to come in?”

  He finally tore his eyes from her face and looked beyond her. “Sure,” he answered, walking past her. As he did so, she inhaled deeply the scent of another human being. She wasn’t sure how to describe the smell: clean, musky, something altogether different than anything she’d smelled before—and very, very pleasant.

  “Wow,” he repeated as he stepped out of the alcove into the seating area. “This is some setup you have here.”

  She looked around. It looked the same to her as it did every day, as it had every single day of her life. He stopped next to the bookcase and turned back toward her. She stood next to the opening to the alcove.

  “So, what’s the deal?” he asked. “You said you can’t ever go outside. Why not? What happens if you do?”

  “I’ll die,” she answered simply. His eyes widened and she understood that she had perhaps spoken too abruptly. “I mean,” she tried to backpedal, “I have a disease—”

  He stepped away from her, a small motion, but obvious nonetheless. “What kind of disease?” His voice sounded tight though clearly he tried to sound normal. “Is it contagious?”

  “No.” Her answer was firm. She knew for certain that it wasn’t her that was the danger. It was the world that threatened her life. “I have SCIDs—which stands for Severe Combined Immunodeficiency. It’s an immune system deficiency I was born with. If I’m exposed to any germs or bacteria, my body will be unable to fight them, and I’ll die.”

  His look became even more worried. “Isn’t it dangerous having me here? Who knows what germs I brought in with me?”

  She shook her head. She had considered that possibility before she had asked him over. The invitation hadn’t been extended lightly. “It doesn’t matter,” she said lightly, eyes turned to the floor. “I’ve been here alone for so long that sometimes I think it’s worth the risk, exposing myself, just to spend a few hours with someone.”