My Name is Rapunzel

by K. C. Hilton

The smell of musty old pages, mingled with incense and years, assaulted my brain. Instantly I sailed back to moments as a tiny child sitting on Father's lap listening to his wild stories—unbelievable, yet perfectly believable, much like my own story.

  “Pick out anything you want. It's my treat.” John smiled and handed me a small basket. How could I resist? So many books. Where would I start? I took to the aisles like a child, touching them, examining the cover designs, and smelling them. I probably looked crazy sniffing the pages. Musty books and a rosewater bath was all a girl needed.

  My basket grew heavy and the wire handles dug into my forearm. And I was only halfway through the shop. What other treasures might I uncover?

  All shopped out, I followed John to the checkout counter. John tapped the bell on the counter for assistance and I placed my books next to the register.

  “Are you stocking up? You know you can buy new and used books online, much cheaper than in a bookstore.” John grinned, looking at the stack on the counter. “Bookstore prices can be outrageous.”

  I laughed. “I’m sorry. You said I could pick out anything I wanted.” I hope I didn't overstep his generosity. I chewed my lower lip as I looked at the sticker price on the books. Oh, I didn't realize how much book prices had changed. Doing the math in my head, I gasped and covered my mouth. This was going to cost John a small fortune. I should put some of them back.

  John waved a hand. “Oh, I didn't mean it that way. You can get more if you want. It's just nowadays people tend to buy more books online and price match to get the best deal. You could get twice the number of books, if not three times, for what they cost in a bookstore. You should think about it for next time.”

  “I shop on the Internet. I do most—actually, all—of my shopping that way. Right now I’m just enjoying this experience. It’s a new one for me.”

  “I can’t imagine that. You’ve led a very sheltered life. I’m sorry about that.” John smiled. “I’m happy to treat you to this extravagance.”

  Should I be embarrassed? “I don't miss what I've never had.” I didn’t know what else I should say. Looking through John's point of view, my life was dull and always had been. Probably always would be.

  John paused and stared off in to the distance, not looking at anything particular, then said, “On second thought, if I were free, truly free without responsibilities, I could imagine how nice it would be to live without technology.”

  Now he was just being nice to me.

  In no time, the clerk arrived behind the counter, but it wasn't just any clerk. My hands started to tremble. Holding my breath, I suddenly felt faint. One of my fears stood directly in front of me. It was a very old man.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  On the other side of the counter, directly in front of me, stood an old man, in his early to mid-sixties. Although his hair was as white as snow, he appeared to be in good health—fit and spry. He didn't slump or shuffle when he walked. Plus, to work in a bookstore like this he’d have to have his memories well intact. This I feared the most.

  I quickly calculated how long it had been since I visited this store. He couldn't possibly be the owner I had met those many years ago. It wasn’t possible. But he did look familiar, sort of. This had to be a new owner or someone who simply worked here. I slowly released the air in my lungs, trying to calm down. It wasn't working.

  John's eyebrows creased and he cocked his head. “What’s up?” he whispered.

  I tugged on John's elbow. He leaned closer to me. “He's old,” I whispered, hoping the old man didn't have superhero hearing.

  John giggled. He actually giggled! This was serious, but he thought it was funny. When we left this store, I was going to tell him exactly what I thought of his sense of humor.

  The clerk was busy sorting my selection of books, stacking them in separate piles by genre and then size.

  John leaned closer, “Nothing to be afraid of. Just remember, the older they get, the less they remember. It's a natural part of life.”

  John's words brought back a memory of something my father once told me. We are born then we grow up. We get married then have a family. We grow old then we die. It's a part of life.

  The clerk handled each book with care, being extra careful not to bend the paperbacks or crease the dust jackets on the hardbacks. He read each title before scanning the barcode to ring up the price. It couldn't possibly be this easy.

  The clerk had yet to even glance our way. Maybe he was in his own little world, not caring about what the customers looked like, only caring about what they bought. My heartbeat slowed to an almost life-sustainable pace.

  As the clerk added the last book in the pile, he smiled longingly at it then lightly brushed his finger across the title. Without looking up he said, “This has always been a favorite book of mine. No matter how much the story has changed over the years. It's the girl, you see.” He pointed to the young lady on the cover. “She has always remained the same, ageless, if you will, forever frozen in time and forever beautiful.”

  I released my breath and took another one, as silently as I could. He could talk as much as he wanted to, as long as he didn't look at me. It would be a great time to step back and browse the rows of books and let John finish with the clerk, but he kept his hand on my elbow. He didn't want me to run. He probably assumed everything was going to be all right. Easy for him to think so. Was he not listening to the clerk? This was going to end badly. I just knew it.

  “A person could get lost in her silky long hair.” The salesclerk smiled softly as his eyes grew wistful. “And those eyes…those big blue eyes, Cinderella had nothing on her.” He chuckled again then wiped his moist eyes. “Just looking at her eyes alone could make a man's legs turn to jelly. She's always searching for someone, wanting to escape her prison. So, she waits for someone, anyone.”

  It was as if he knew me.

  I held my breath. John must have been holding his, too. He squeezed my elbow to either comfort me or revive me. Whatever the reason, it didn’t help.

  The clerk kept talking, and I didn't dare interrupt him. Something wasn't right. Why did this book have to be his favorite? Why me? Why now? My legs wobbled. And why, why was I so stupid to pick Rapunzel to buy today?

  Maybe the old man was infatuated with the character of the book—a little obsessed with the character, in my opinion, but that was his right. I took in a few more quick breaths. Nothing to worry about, I was just being silly.

  “When I was a young lad,” the old man continued. “Many years ago. A young girl came into this shop. I was just a silly boy then, almost a teenager, and in love,” he chuckled. “I helped my father run the business, you see. She was about seventeen years old, and she was the most gorgeous girl I had ever laid my eyes on. Gorgeous isn’t even a suitable word. Exquisite. She was exquisite.” He closed his eyes as though remembering the sight.

  Could I dash out of there before he opened them again?

  “She was the character straight from this book, in this very store, come to life in front of my eyes. She also purchased a pile of books, such as you have.” He waved his other hand to the bulging bag on the counter then sighed. He actually sighed.

  “I'd always hoped to see her again, but sadly, even though I’d mustered up the nerve to ask her out, she never came back. I thought she must have moved away. At least I’d hoped that was the reason and not that she had no interest in me. I pined over her for years, hoping she would come back. And then I got polio.” His eyes grew moist. “After that, I hoped she’d never come back because I couldn’t have borne to look up from my wheelchair to see her pity.”

  He liked me? He had been planning to ask me out on a date? How sweet. Oh dear, what was I thinking? Please don't look at me. Please don't look at me. I should look away. I should walk away, something, anything but stand there, but my feet refused to move. What was wrong with me?

  Wait a minute. I knew just where I’d seen that man before. Polio? That would mean…

 
In a wheelchair. That was him? The man Gretta had been pushing? How could it be? And why was he standing before me as though he’d never been crippled?

  “I might be old, but I'll never forget her face. She was my fairy tale, but that story didn't get a happy ending. I always wondered what became of her.” The clerk placed the book gently into the bag then announced the total. He looked up and his eyes met mine. His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide. He gasped, then took a step back and groped behind him for the counter. He slumped against it, his hand on his heart.

  Mind control was certainly not my forte. I was in big trouble now. What else could go wrong? I looked at John. What could he do? I was busted. My worst fears about being in town realized on the first morning. My vision blurred, and I grabbed the edge of the counter to keep myself from swaying.

  “It's you.” The old man barely said the words out loud, lifting a shaky finger and directing it toward me. “It's you.”

  Yes, it was me, but I wasn't going to be the one to tell him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I'd been recognized! It would have been much easier to faint, but no such luck there, although I came close. What would I do? I needed to breathe, just breathe. This was the first time in 250 years that someone had ever claimed to recognize me. I'd been so careful. I never should have come to town. I should have waited longer.

  I don't know if I was more sad about being recognized, scared about what it would mean, or devastated that I’d be relegated back to the castle for another half-century. And what about this man? How was it that he walked? Had he sold his soul to Gretta in exchange for some legs?

  “You're the girl.” The clerk jabbed his finger toward me. “The girl—the one I was just speaking about. The girl in the shop when I was a lad!” His voice finally found a louder sound. I was glad the shop was void of other customers. It was bad enough to have two sets of eyes fixed on me. I couldn't imagine being the center of attention more than I was at that moment.

  I tried to say something—anything—but my words were stuck in my throat like a lump.

  John's laugh interrupted the uncomfortable silence. If he hadn't had a grip on my elbow, I would have made a run for it, but I didn't move. I didn't run.

  “How could that be possible? You said you were just a boy.” John shook his head, still laughing. “If that were true, wouldn't she be as old, if not older, than you?” John was good, I must admit. He knew exactly what to say. Putting doubt in the old clerk's mind was quick thinking. Making him question the absurdity of his own memory. John did work for the newspaper after all. I was sure being an attentive reporter had its advantages.

  “But,” the clerk stumbled on his words. “I know it's you. My memory hasn't faded and my mind is as sharp as it was when I was young.” The clerk lifted his finger, pointing it toward me again. “How can this be possible?” He looked as if he'd seen a ghost, and that ghost was me.

  John must have sensed my fear. He tried to change the subject to take the clerk's attention away from me. “You say this book—” John tapped the cover—” was your favorite story because you had seen someone resembling the main character, a character from a fairy tale, right in front of your eyes?” John's eyes lingered on the book.

  “Yes, that's right. That's what I said.”

  John read the title out loud. “Rapunzel. I remember that story.” He chuckled. “If I were to be part of a fairy tale, I'd want to be a dragon.” Oh, he was just making fun of me now. How dare he? If he believed the dragon to be real, he certainly wouldn't bring it up, because it would be dangerous for the dragon and me.

  “A dragon?” The clerk looked confused. It worked. He was distracted and focused on John. I could breathe again, hopefully long enough to get my thoughts together. I rubbed my hands together to dry them off. Surely John's plan would work. Whatever it was. I just wish he'd hurry it up so we could leave. “Why on earth would you want to be a dragon? They are feared creatures and nobody likes them. If you were a dragon, you would be forever hunted and you would never have any peace.” The clerk folded his arms across his chest.

  “Yes, I would be feared,” John said with a smirk. “But only by those who didn't know me or would want to hurt me. My reason is simple. I would be able to fly!” John stretched his arms above his head and stared at the ceiling. “I could soar above the clouds and I would be free. Free from a job going nowhere. Free from women wanting to become my wife. Free from the world and its demands. I would be a free man, or dragon, if you will.” John laughed. “And, I almost forgot, I wouldn't have to pay taxes, ever again. Talk about tax evasion, let the government try to arrest a dragon. They'd never catch me.” John was amused, and he laughed again, but I couldn't say the same about the old man.

  The clerk considered his answer. He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

  “Tell me, sir,” John continued. “If Rapunzel is your favorite story, what character would you want to be? Perhaps you'd want to be her prince?”

  Men. Why couldn’t he have shut up when the man said he was crazy? It might have ended there.

  “No, not me. I'd want to be her hero. Save the day, so Rapunzel and her true love could be together. That's what character I'd want to be. Rapunzel's hero.” He said it without blinking an eye. He really was a sweet old man.

  I should keep my mouth shut. But I couldn’t help it. “But Rapunzel's story doesn't have a hero like that. Not in any version that I know of, anyway.”

  John released his grip on my hand and slid his arm around my waist and gave it a gentle squeeze. Maybe I should have left it alone, but I had to say it. Rapunzel doesn't have a hero. Why would the clerk think I did? What story had he read that I hadn't? I'd read them all. I knew all the stories. I knew all the lies.

  The man looked directly at me. He stared at my eyes. I couldn’t look away.

  “No, not yet.”

  Not yet? “What do you mean?” I asked in a meek voice.

  “Stories change. One day, Rapunzel will have a happier ending than the original story. Have you read the one by the Grimm Brothers? It's changed so many times over the years. I think I've read them all.”

  Yes, I knew the Grimm Brothers all too well. I’d met them after we had moved to Paradise Valley. They were traveling, by horse, through my land, scouting out the countryside, looking for interesting people, they’d said. They’d asked me so many questions…

  I told them my story. I told them the truth. I hoped they’d help me. And there was something trustworthy about them. I thought they’d keep their promise. But they tossed a few coins at me and bid me farewell. It wasn’t very long after that, they wrote a story and used my name. It resembled the story of my life, but they had twisted the truth to benefit their pockets. And they never helped me.

  In contrast with the Grimm’s story, Mother and Father weren't to blame for my unfortunate life. I had only myself to blame for making a deal with the witch. Henry never used my hair to climb up to the tower, because he was gone before I had to leave my home. There was nothing more than a single beautiful kiss that I shared with Henry, and I definitely did not get pregnant from a kiss. Furthermore, the witch didn't scratch out the eyes of my true love…she killed him, and I certainly never saw him again. The Grimm Brothers stretched the truth so much it was barely recognizable.

  In fact, I wrote the Grimm Brothers about what they had done and told them it was wrong to bend my true story into some twisted tale to line their pockets. I had told them the truth and confided in them in hopes that they would help me. They wrote me back and said they had paid for my story. They informed me they purchased it from me, with the right to tell it as they saw fit and thanked me for my time. They even included a few more coins to appease me. As if I needed their money.

  I’d vowed never to tell my story to anyone again. I glanced at John Jenkins. Yet here I was, sucked in by another storyteller.

  “I've read them all, too.” I lowered my eyes to avert his gaze. I didn't want him to see the sad
ness on my face or the hurt that I felt inside and the painful memories I dream about every night. If he looked in to my eyes, I knew he would be able to see it all. He would know everything. He would know the truth. And truth be known, he already did. I hadn't fooled him one bit.

  “Well, it's time we should get going,” John announced. “It'll be dark soon and Rap…” I interrupted him with a slight elbow in his rib cage and he coughed to cover it up, suddenly realizing he'd been about to say my name. “As I was saying, Rapella needs to be home before dark.” He was good at covering things up, I'd give him that. But, Rapella? “Nice to meet you sir.” John paid for the books and picked up the bags then turned to leave.

  “Very nice to meet you, um, Rapella. My name is Edwin.” The old man gave my hand a strong shake. His warm touch reminded me of Father.

  I moved toward the door to follow John. I felt the shopkeeper’s eyes on me the entire time. I glanced over my shoulder once more.

  “One day, Rapunzel will have her hero. I promise.” The clerk winked, then smiled again, before he turned and walked away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  John tried to make small talk while he drove me home, but all I did was bite at my fingernails—a bad habit I’d just started. I didn't want any part of John. I think I uttered a few uh-huh’s, but he finally gave up trying. Edwin had recognized me. But it was more than that. I should never have come to town this early.

  “Just pull over here. I’d rather walk up the lane than risk getting caught by Gretta.” Too much excitement for one day. Plus, daylight was fading fast and the dragon would be nosing around soon.

  John pulled to a stop and held my hand to his cheek, and then caressed it with a light kiss.

  Too much. This had gone too far. “I'm sorry, John.” I pulled my hand away. “I should never have gone to town. We should never have kissed. It was all a huge mistake.”

  “Going to town or the kiss?” He smiled.