My Name is Rapunzel

by K. C. Hilton

  Ah. This would do. An article about how to get the look of a celebrity on a budget. I didn’t care about the money, but this would tell me how an average person could look like a style icon. I wanted to look good, and I couldn’t go there looking like I’d stepped out of the 1950s.

  Okay. Clearly everyone wears jeans to everything. I had three pairs, but would any of them do? One of them still had the tags on, but the waist was as high as my rib cage and the bottoms as wide as a bell. Yeah, those wouldn’t work. In another fifty years, maybe. One of my others was covered in grass stains and dirt splotches. Those wouldn’t do. Only one pair remained.

  I lifted my much-loved, favorite pair of jeans. Actually, I’d been wearing them since 1980. The knees were worn through and one of the back pockets had ripped off…Wait a second. I flipped a few pages back in the magazine. Bingo. Looked like celebrities did that on purpose. Or they paid big money for someone else to do it for them. My jeans were perfect. And it only took a little over 30 years to get them that way.

  Okay. Now for the top.

  Judging by the photos, it looked like anything was fine as long as it was layered upon other layers of anything and everything—shirts, tank tops, T-shirts, jackets, blazers, scarves…whatever. Okay. I could do that.

  I returned to my armoire and rummaged through the drawers. Some of Mother’s scarves would look really cool, kind of vintage, with my denim jacket. That and a couple of those snug T-shirts I ordered from The Gap, and I'd be fine.

  Maybe some hot pink layered over lime green. I pulled the tops over my head and freed my thick braid. I slipped my arms inside my jacket and looked in the mirror. Yep. That would work.

  Now, a colorful plaid scarf draped and tied just like in the picture. Perfect.

  I twisted my hair up in my signature style and clipped as much of it as I could fit into the over-sized claw. Some lip gloss and mascara, and I looked like any girl fresh off a college campus.

  I stopped by the bathroom on the way out of the tower and glanced in the bigger mirror. I looked like I'd leapt off one of the pages of that magazine. I raced downstairs and made it just in time before the dishwasher repairman left. I’d catch a ride to town with him, as long as Gretta didn’t see me. Hopefully Pepper would bring me home. I needed to see about getting a drivers license and a vehicle. Enough was enough.

  Stan was just coming out of the kitchen when I reached the bottom of the staircase. I motioned for him to step into the hallway with me. “Hey, you mind giving me a lift into town when you leave?”

  Stan shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I'll be leaving in about a minute. You ready?”

  “Ready as I'll ever be.” I hitched my Coach bag up onto my shoulder and tipped my head toward the door. “I'll just be waiting in your car.”

  “Works for me.” Stan smiled and looked me over.

  Gross.

  I made my way to the green Honda out front. Far as I knew, Gretta hadn’t seen me. As long as I made it back before dusk, I'd be fine. I slipped into the passenger seat and flipped down the visor so I could check my makeup. All looked well. Stan slipped in the driver’s side and started the car. “So where you headed?”

  “You could just drop me off at Starbucks on Main. I'm meeting some friends.”

  “Glad to hear it. You keep to yourself too much. You need to get out more.”

  “So they say.” I chuckled.

  The car inched up to the curb in front of the Starbucks, and I got out. I turned to wave, but he was already gone. Okay. So much for chivalry. Guess that mostly died out a long time ago.

  I took a deep breath and approached the door. It opened with a jingle as customers exited with their steaming cups. I stepped through the threshold and got walloped in the face with a heady aroma unlike anything I’d ever experienced. We had coffee at the castle, but nothing could have prepared me for the decadence of the smell that overwhelmed the tiny space. Nothing smelled like a Starbucks, or so they said on television. They were right. I could practically feel caffeine jitters just from breathing the air.

  Pepper gasped. She sat in a cluster of comfy chairs with three other girls who looked just like her. “There she is. It's Rapunzel.”

  I should have maybe thought about using a different name, what with the fairy tale and all, but it was too late for that.

  “Hey, Rapunzel. So glad you could join us. It’s good to meet you.” A pretty redhead stuck out her hand.

  “Hey guys. Thanks for inviting me. I don't get out much, due to taking care of my aunt. Her sister’s in town, too. It’s nice to step out for a change.” A little white lie never hurt anyone. Besides, it gave me the opportunity to ease myself in or pull back if I got uncomfortable. I took a seat between Pepper and a raven-haired girl in a ponytail and athletic gear. She looked like she’d just come from a yoga class.

  Pepper smiled. “Well, I'm so glad you could join us. I think it's good for you to get out.”

  The girl directly across from me nodded. “My name is Amber. I totally agree. My mom was my grandma's caretaker for like, ten years, and it about did her in. She never got to go anywhere or do anything. She sort of shriveled up and got sick herself. You need to take care of yourself.”

  I nodded. “Definitely. I agree. That's why I'm here.”

  “So tell me, Rapunzel.” Yoga Girl grinned. “What made your parents name you that?”

  ***

  John’s turn. Other than a few uncomfortable moments, the trip to Starbucks was so uneventful I couldn’t wait for my next adventure. I checked the clock—ten minutes until John picked me up. I’d better get outside before he did something crazy like use the doorknocker.

  I crept down the hall and out the front door. I held the latch as I pulled it closed, then released it ever so gently. No one could have possibly heard the click. So far so good.

  I hurried down the drive to wait for John. He’d better be on time, or Gretta would see me, and who knew what she’d do?

  I kicked at the stones surrounding the mailbox and peered down the lane looking for a dust cloud to signal his arrival. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting Gretta to come plodding from the castle, intent on dragging me back inside.

  John had been right in saying nobody would recognize me. In fact, no one had even noticed me the day before. Granted, I went to one place and then home, but still, it was a good experiment to test things out. Now I should be safe in town for at least five years, maybe even ten if I learned how to do my makeup to make me look older. After that, I'd need to hide away again, for another fifty years at least. But I didn't want to think about that—it only ruined the moment.

  My stomach bubbled with nerves. About going to town? Or about being alone with John for a social thing? I picked up a flat stone and skipped it down the lane. Wait. I caught sight of that same figure on the far hillside again. Who was that man and why was he there again? I stared back at him. He didn't move to leave or raise a hand to acknowledge me, in fact… I squinted to get a better look. He didn’t actually look right at me.

  Maybe I should say hello? I raised my hand then let it fall. It would be pointless anyway. He was too far away and he hadn’t seemed to hear me the other time I tried. I couldn't even see his face, just his figure. It was definitely a man, but who was he? Was he spying on me? For how long? I should tell someone, but who? It was a sad reminder that I had no real friends that I could trust and I refused to tell Gretta anything. She would just make my life even more miserable and find a way to keep me from going to the mailbox. She'd find a way to keep me locked in my tower if I gave her reason to. No, I couldn’t tell anyone about the stranger.

  Pepper's Jeep sounded down the lane and she arrived in seconds, taking my mind off the stranger. “Hey chic!” she said, waving as the car came to an abrupt halt. “I don't have much for you today, just some junk mail, sorry.”

  “It's all right. Better than a stack of bills.” Wasn’t that what people said? As soon as the words left my mouth, I heard the sound of another vehicle approach
ing. It was John.

  Pepper gave me a strange look. “Expecting someone?” She looked in her side mirror at the fancy car slowly coming to a stop behind her Jeep.

  “Yes, it's just a reporter from the newspaper. He's taking me to town.”

  John pulled up alongside us and buzzed down his window. “Morning, ladies.” He grinned.

  “Wow. Trip to town twice in two days? My little Rapunzel is growing up.” Pepper narrowed her gaze and looked John over. “Just be careful, okay?”

  I’d be careful, but if today went as well as I hoped it might, then I’d be going a lot more.

  “So.” Pepper hadn’t peeled her gaze from John. “A reporter? Are you someone famous?” Pepper shielded her eyes from the sun and peered closer.

  “Nope, I'm just a writer.” John seemed like he might say more, but he closed his mouth.

  Back to me. “All right chic, got to go. Maybe we can do lunch next week?” Pepper asked.

  “Sounds great.” I smiled. Lunch plans. Friends. Just like a normal person. I took two steps back, and Pepper spun her tires on the gravel and waved goodbye.

  I actually meant it this time. I was going to do it, once and for all. I’d be able to live normally for a few years. If only I’d tried this sooner. But, then again, would it be harder to retreat from life once I’d experienced it, than if I’d never dipped my toe in the ocean?

  John had already gotten out of his car and was holding the passenger side door open. “Are you ready to go?”

  I nodded as I eased myself into his vehicle. It smelled good inside. It smelled like John. He started the car, then took my hand and kissed it. “I'm glad you agreed to go with me today. Thank you.”

  “Thank you for inviting me.” Butterflies flitted in my stomach and my hand tingled. I resisted the urge to wipe at the tingling spot. Why was I so nervous? Was it because I was going to town or was it because I sat beside a man who looked as if he wanted to kiss me again? He did kiss very well, but I’d only kissed him to distract him from seeing the dragon. It was only a kiss. Nothing would ever come of it. It should never have happened, but I had no choice.

  It meant nothing.

  ***

  We drove away from the castle toward the town center. I watched my home shrink in the side-view mirror as we pulled away. My heart beat heavily in my chest. Could John hear my nervousness?

  I should have said something. Anything. But nothing came to mind. Ugh. I was so boring.

  John reached forward and pushed a button to turn the radio on. Soft music filled the car as we drove through the countryside. He reached over and took my hand in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “So, is it okay if I ask you some questions?”

  “Is this for an article?” I teased, and then winked. “Sure, you can.”

  “Well, it's so odd to even ask this, but what is it like to have your very own dragon? Is it the most wonderful thing in the world?” John shook his head, a look of miraculous unbelief in his eyes. “You know, it's the stuff of legends, what every little boy dreams of.”

  So he believed me now? “You know, John, dragons aren't always green, loping, happy creatures with pink hair. And they don’t always live in caves by the ocean and belong to little boys named Pete. Many times, they imprison their prey.”

  “You don't seem much like a prisoner.” John narrowed his gaze and looked me over.

  How could I explain to him that I was the prisoner of the witch who was the prisoner of the dragon, but I was not a prisoner of the dragon? Was I? No, the dragon just wanted to protect me. Even I didn't understand it. Which made it easy to accept his lack of belief as natural. “He need not imprison me, because I have nowhere to go.”

  John seemed to consider that concept. He nodded. “Okay, next question…”

  Most of the way, John held my hand and quizzed me about my life and the dragon. It sure was nice to be able to talk to someone else, besides Gretta, about everything. But, I'm not entirely sure John believed my story, let alone the part about the dragon. He was probably just being nice.

  I glanced at John, hoping I wouldn't come to regret sharing my story with him. After all, John would never have known any of it if I hadn’t written that letter. I couldn't change the past. I couldn't erase the truth. But, I could pretend that I made the whole thing up as a ploy to get a publishing contract. What if I did that? I could easily back out of the truth, and maybe even get that elusive book contract that people on the Internet seemed to want so badly.

  “This road was so bumpy when I arrived here the first time. Dirt and rocks, wagon wheels. Quite a different journey.”

  John grinned. “Sometimes I have to remind myself you're not playing a part…that you're not a character in some elaborate movie. That this is very real. It's hard to believe.”

  I felt my smile fade. How hard to believe? Impossible?

  “Now you put that pretty smile back on your face. I believe you. You just have to understand that to someone like me…” John shrugged.

  “Someone normal?”

  “Well, you have to admit, it's a big story. I think it would be rare that someone would accept it completely. Now you have to decide if you can trust me.”

  I wanted to. I did. But it was hard.

  “The houses, they are so close together. And they all look alike. Why do people want to live like that?” I thought back to the little home I was raised in. It too had been very close to its neighbor, and I'd lived to regret that. I couldn't stand being that close to people again. “Trees, gardens, grass, space. That's what I need.”

  “Well, sure.” John shrugged. “But not everyone has freedom of choice like that. With land prices being what they are and construction prices through the roof, so to speak, people often have little choice. The biggest opportunity they have for customization, a lot of times, is simply choosing the color of their vinyl siding and shutters.”

  “Ooh, look, ski slopes.” I craned my neck to see the chairlifts disappear into the clouds. When the snow came, I’d have to come back and watch the people zip down the side.

  “We could hike there if you'd like. Maybe even ride the chair lift up and down. Do you want to?”

  “Oh, definitely. That would be fun. Let's do that as soon as possible.” At least within the next few years.

  “Here we are.” John zipped his little car into a parking lot and chose a space near the front door. “I picked a place that might be comfortable for you. A lot like the last time you ventured to town, I guess.” He held the door open for me to step through, back in time.

  Elvis Presley blared from the jukebox. Waitresses rolled by on roller skates, scuffing the black and white checkerboard floor tile. John steered me to a stool at the countertop and ordered me a chocolate shake.

  I looked up at the walls and smiled at the pictures of James Dean and others from that era. The waitress set down my milkshake, complete with whipped cream and a cherry on top. I took a big sip. Perfection.

  During lunch, John told me more about his life. He especially liked talking about his childhood and his aunt. He'd been an only child and didn't have any family currently living. I felt a sad sort of connection with him. I knew what alone felt like.

  John hadn't found the right woman yet, and he didn't plan on settling down anytime soon. “Why the rush?” he asked out loud, but clearly didn't expect me to answer. “I'm enjoying my freedom. I do have the occasional date, but nothing serious, of course. I want to be free. From my job. From demanding people. Free, like your dragon.”

  “But the dragon is alone. He has no family. How could he possibly be happy?” I asked in a low voice, not wanting anyone to hear. “I think the dragon is sad sometimes.” John didn't understand just how lonely it could be to be a dragon. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t realize it. I understood completely.

  We took a stroll through the park in the center of town. I kept my head down and avoided eye contact with anyone who crossed our path. My nerves had settled, but it was still difficult. We wandered down
Main Street, exploring the shops and peeking in windows.

  We visited a small medieval museum, apparently a great tourist attraction. It depicted coats of arms, old swords, and armor complete with the helmets. It was erected because of the dragon myth, no doubt. The museum was connected to a little store at its exit. Even from outside I could see the store was filled with books about the Crusades, King Arthur, dragons, and wizards. Replica costumes were displayed throughout the shop, as were tiny wooden swords, which were surely a big hit with the tourist children.

  It turned out to be the most wonderful day ever. Better than I had imagined it would be. How could anything top this? Things had changed so much, but much had stayed the same. Yes, some new structures had been erected on the outskirts of town, but Main Street held the same buildings, though spruced up with paint or new awnings and signs.

  The cars that lined the street and the way people dressed were the biggest changes to me. Newspapers and magazines were one thing, but experiencing modern culture in person was an entirely different thing. Material excess was everywhere. And cell phones. Everyone spoke or typed into a cell phone.

  I gasped and grabbed John's sleeve. I pointed my finger at the shop across the street. “It's still here.” I grinned up at John's surprised face.

  “What? That old bookstore?” John shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it's still here. But there's a bigger and better one down the road. We can head over there if you like.”

  “No way. Old ones are the best.” Bigger and better would never smell like an old bookstore. It would probably smell more like Starbucks had.

  We held hands as we crossed the street. John pushed the door open, sending off a cacophony of chimes—so much for discreet.

  “Feel free to browse around. I'll be with you in just a minute!” a man shouted from the back room.