Rapunzel Untangled

by Cindy C. Bennett

  G2G.

  TTYT.

  You misspelled that. It’s TTYL.

  No I didn’t. It means talk to you tomorrow. I WILL talk to you tomorrow, right?

  Right.

  Good.

  Rapunzel signed off the computer, writing down the names of the books he had told her about. She didn’t know how she could talk her mother into movies to watch, but she could easily convince her of the books. She hoped.

  chapter

  *.*

  4

  .**

  I need a few books for my language arts course,” Rapunzel told her mother. She took a breath and in a rush said, “And I’ll need a couple movies because they go with the books and I have to write a paper on the differences.”

  “Movies?” her mother asked. “You need to purchase movies as well as books?”

  Rapunzel chewed her lip as she nodded, thankful that in this one area, her mother preferred to not get involved. She wished Rapunzel’s education to be just that: Rapunzel’s education. “But there’s a place on the Internet where you can watch as many movies as you’d like if you pay a monthly fee. Sort of like renting them instead of buying them.” Fane had told her of the site, of course.

  “Oh. Well then why don’t you just do that, Rapunzel, if you need it for your education?”

  Rapunzel cringed at her deception. Her mother had given Rapunzel a credit card to use when ordering necessities for school, though she gave Rapunzel the address of her office to have the items sent. She said she didn’t want delivery men bringing their germs to their door, which didn’t make sense since Rapunzel knew there were construction workers around most days.

  “Now, I need to talk to you about something important,” her mother continued, the conversation about movies forgotten. Rapunzel sat in the chair and turned for her mother to begin her ritualistic brushing, always done in counts of six. It was Rapunzel’s responsibility to keep track on the little clickers used for just such a purpose. One clicker kept the individual tally up to six, which was then reset. The second clicker kept track of how many times they’d cycled through the first. When it reached twelve, they were done.

  “Coming up is a trip I must take.”

  Rapunzel jerked around at the announcement. Her mother had never been gone for more than a day, always returning for their nightly ritual. She felt panicked at the thought of being alone.

  “A trip? What do you mean? What kind of trip? For how long?”

  Her mother smiled, and Rapunzel couldn’t help comparing it to the open smile that reflected in Fane’s photos. His smiles seemed to radiate from his eyes. Her mother’s smile, in contrast, was flat and didn’t move past her lips. How had she not noticed this before?

  “Calm yourself. I won’t be gone long. Six days isn’t such a long time, is it?”

  “Six days?” Rapunzel yelped.

  “Please, Rapunzel, enough of the dramatics. Cook has agreed to stay in the house while I’m away so you won’t be alone.”

  “But what if there’s a problem?” Rapunzel asked. She had never met Cook and wouldn’t recognize her if she saw her. “She can’t come in here. I can’t go out.” Her chest tightened and her breathing escalated.

  “I’ve thought of that, Rapunzel,” her mother said, jerking her hair to turn Rapunzel back around, and continued brushing. Rapunzel systematically began clicking, even though her mind raced. “Give me some credit, please. What count are we up to?”

  Rapunzel glanced down, did the math. “Sixty-eight.”

  Her mother gave four more long strokes with the brush. “There.” She sat the brush down and placed her hands heavily on Rapunzel’s shoulders, looking at Rapunzel in the mirror. “I have a surprise for you.” She stood, stroking the blonde hair. “Come with me.”

  Rapunzel did as she was told, though she felt like screaming. She clamped her lips tightly shut and followed her mother. When they reached the sitting area, her mother reached into her bag, then turned and handed Rapunzel a strange, plain white rectangle with elastic loops on each end. Rapunzel simply stared at it and with an exasperated grunt her mother took it from her.

  “It’s a medical mask.” She lifted it to Rapunzel’s face, placing it over her nose and mouth and fastening the two loops around her ears. Rapunzel immediately felt claustrophobic. “Should there be an emergency, you can put this on and it will protect you from the germs.”

  Rapunzel stared at her over the mask, then as her words sunk past the panic, she felt something new. Hope.

  “You mean,” she began excitedly, “that with this on, I’m protected? I can go outside my rooms? Maybe even outside the house?” Her mind filled with visions of being able to meet Fane in the gardens below.

  “Of course not!” her mother snapped, startling her. “Don’t think it for one second, Rapunzel. The danger is very real, very present. Put that thought immediately out of your small mind.” The blaze in her eyes calmed as she seemed to realize Rapunzel’s alarm. She soothed a hand down Rapunzel’s arm then reached up to remove the mask. “It’s a temporary barrier, my dear child,” she said soothingly. “It will help if absolutely needed, but it can’t keep the threat completely away. Do you understand?”

  Rapunzel nodded, mute with her disappointment. She hoped that this mask was a new way for her to have something akin to a normal life. It crushed her to realize it wasn’t so. Finally, she found her voice, smaller now. “When will you go?”

  “Not for a few weeks, Rapunzel. I want to give you plenty of warning so that we can both prepare.” She pulled Rapunzel into her tight embrace that was more painful than comforting. “I don’t relish the thought of going. I wouldn’t leave you if I could avoid it. I promise the time will fly as if on the wings of a bird. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Rapunzel shuddered in her mother’s arms. The speech sounded practiced, unnatural to her ears. She hadn’t had any conversations outside of her mother. She supposed she couldn’t really judge.

  “Where are you going?”

  Her mother pushed her abruptly away. “I told you. On a business trip. You really must learn to listen better.”

  “I mean, where, as in, where will you be? Maybe I can look it up on the computer so I can picture you there.”

  Gothel’s face hardened. “Why would you look it up, Rapunzel? The computer is a device for your schoolwork. Nothing more. Have you been using it for other things?”

  “No,” Rapunzel quickly assured her, even as her heartbeat increased in tempo at the falsehood. “Of course not. It was just an idea.”

  Her mother studied her for long moments. Apparently satisfied, she turned away. Rapunzel walked toward her bedroom after her mother left. Just before stepping through the high wooden doorway, she turned toward the stone alcove that held her computer. Without allowing herself to weigh the consequences, she entered and woke the computer.

  Immediately her Facebook message box popped up.

  Well, look who’s being a night owl.

  Rapunzel smiled when his message came.

  Isn’t that redundant? Aren’t all owls night owls?

  And a bit testy so late.

  Rapunzel sighed.

  Sorry. Just got some bad news.

  Now I’M sorry for being such an insensitive jerk. Care to share?

  In a few weeks my mother is going away.

  Like, forever?

  Of course not. But she’ll be gone six days.

  Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you said you had some BAD news.

  Rapunzel stared at his message. How could it be anything but bad news?

  It IS bad news. She’s never been gone before.

  Afraid of being left home with the old man? Is he that bad?

  Rapunzel’s brows scrunched at the words.

  There is no old man living here that I know of.

  Oh, sorry. Insensitive again. I suppose I’ve never asked about the familial situation there. Just you and your mom? No siblings?

  No siblings.

&n
bsp; Wait, are you saying that you will be home alone?

  No, Cook will be here with me.

  Ah, well, I guess we can’t all have the perfect dream come true. But seriously, how vigilant is this Cook guy? Is sneaking out an option?

  Rapunzel shook her head at this odd sentence.

  Cook is a woman. Why would I want to sneak out?

  Oh, my friend, you haven’t lived until you’ve snuck out at least once. I can’t believe you’ve made it to 17 without having done so.

  Do YOU sneak out often?

  Well . . . no. But then, I don’t really need to. The parental units are pretty cool about giving me rein as long as I toe the line.

  Should any of that make sense to me?

  Uh . . . *pauses awkwardly*. You don’t get out much, do you?

  She wondered if she had said something that sounded ignorant of the world. Of course, she was ignorant of the world, so it would make sense that she sounded so.

  No, I suppose I don’t.

  Would you like to? Sometime? With me, I mean.

  Rapunzel stared at his words. They reflected the momentary fantasy of Fane and the garden she’d had such a short time ago as she stood with the mask covering her face. Yet she’d been assured by her mother that the fantasy was still just that.

  Maybe. Sometime. But I can’t yet.

  Can’t. That’s different than WON’T, right? Wait, don’t answer that. My mom always tells me never to ask anything I don’t want to hear the answer to. So let me change that to: Awesome. I look forward to “sometime.”

  Thank you, Fab Fane.

  What did I do to elicit you using my TRUE name?

  Haha (I’m saying that sarcastically, FYI). No, really, thank you. I was feeling kind of depressed. Now I’m smiling after talking to you. If this can be called talking.

  Sounds better than “keyboarding at you.” Glad I could make you smile. My day is now complete.

  Rapunzel knew he teased, but she couldn’t stop the warm tingle at his words. She signed off and went to bed with the smile still on her face, thinking of Fane rather than her mother’s impending trip.

  chapter

  *.*

  5

  .**

  Rapunzel’s next two weeks seemed to speed past as she rushed through her homework each day in order to either spend time talking to Fane or reading the books he’d suggested. She was quite taken with The Hobbit, but wasn’t so crazy about The Lord of the Rings series. However, she did enjoy the movies.

  Gollum is a horrible little creature. I can’t believe you compared me to him.

  I DIDN’T compare you to him, if you recall. I simply borrowed his name to fill in for the G of your name.

  Oh. Well. Still, I can assure you I look nothing like him.

  Intrigued, definitely. And now wondering as well. What DO you look like?

  Rapunzel thought about his question. She hadn’t ever really considered what she looked like. She hurried into her room and picked up her small hand mirror, then returned to the computer to look into it as she answered him.

  I have long, blonde hair. It’s heavy. Gives me a headache sometimes. Green eyes that, if you ask me, are too large for my face. Straight nose. I’ve read my shape of upper lip described as a bow, though I can’t fathom how it looks like a bow. Lower lip slightly . . . chubbier, I suppose, than the upper. Chin is neither too large nor too small. I’m sixty-five inches tall, and I weigh 115 pounds. Hands and feet seem appropriately sized, as does head. Does that help?

  Okay, I’m using one of my hated acronyms: ROFL. The only thing you left out was your actual shoe size. You only get more and more interesting the more I talk to you. And yes, you sound hot.

  Rapunzel flushed at his words. How else was she to describe herself? She decided to put the question to him.

  Well, how would you describe yourself if asked?

  Handsome. Debonair. Striking. Sensitive yet daunting. In a word: perfect.

  Okay, now I’m ROFLing—and slightly nauseated. Have you ever been accused of humility? Come on, I’m serious.

  Fine, fine. *holds hands up in surrender* Brown hair in need of a haircut if my mom is to be believed. Eyes that are neither dark enough to be called brown or green enough to be called hazel. Really light brown, I guess. Have a small goatee that said mom is after me to shave, but I like it. Makes me look older. Great cheekbones and strong jaw . . . oh, sorry, slipped into non-humility again. Um, yeah, I guess that’s it. Besides, you can see my pics on FB, right?

  Yes, I can. I just wondered how you would describe yourself if I couldn’t see them. How tall?

  Six-six, which is great for the basketball career, not so great for fitting into my small car, or through most doorways. And people literally hate me if I’m in front of them at a concert or movie.

  Rapunzel tried to imagine standing next to him, a full foot taller than her. She had nothing to reference it with though because her mother was the only one she ever stood next to, and she was only three inches taller than Rapunzel.

  Shoe size?

  Haha.

  Rapunzel smiled and shifted in her chair. Then Fab’s next words appeared:

  Do you have a camera on your computer? You could take a picture of yourself and send it to me. I promise not to show anyone.

  Her stomach tightened at his words. She did have a camera, but she didn’t think she was ready to reveal herself quite that much. What if he thought she did look like Gollum? Besides, if he didn’t keep his promise, she would definitely have her computer taken from her. Or worse, if one of his friends were to see it and send it, she might be stalked and kidnapped, her death sealed. She’d been told the horror stories by her mother when she first got the computer and so had never utilized the camera in any way.

  Hello? I’m guessing the dead silence means no.

  Oh, sorry, it’s just that

  She couldn’t tell him the truth. So she typed

  the camera is broken.

  Bummer. For me, I mean. Just wondering: do you think I might ever get to meet you? I mean, we live in the same city. You can’t be all that far from me. Where do you live?

  She didn’t honestly know where she lived. She knew the name of her house, but not her address. Having never been outside, she didn’t even know where it was located within the city. Afraid that would sound odd, she instead wrote,

  Now who sounds like a stalker?

  Touché. Fine, keep your mysteries. But would you at least consider meeting me somewhere? I would really, really like to meet the enigmatic Rapunzel G.

  G2G. TTYL.

  She quickly signed off, knowing she was being an utter coward. Hopefully, he would think her mother had shown up, since it had happened before. His words panicked her nearly as much as her mother’s announcement that she would be leaving on a trip. He wanted to meet her; the idea made her heart soar. But the reality of her situation was as cold and stark as her stone walls. She couldn’t be exposed to anyone, or she would die. No matter how much her heart was breaking at the thought that her first and only friend wanted to meet her, she had to say no. She was sure in the knowledge of the fate of any other decision. She wiped the tears away as she heard her mother enter her room and call her name.

  “I’m here, Mother,” she said as she walked with heavy heart to her bedroom to have her magic hair brushed by her only possible companion.

  chapter

  *.*

  6

  .**

  Mother, do you think they will ever find a cure for my disease?”

  Her mother flinched, as always, at her casual use of the word disease. “Please, we must concentrate on this.”

  Rapunzel obediently turned her eyes back to the task before them. Her mother required that she write out a step-by-step daily plan, including everything she planned to eat, what she would study or read, and what she would do with her free time during her absence. Rapunzel had a pretty good idea of what she would be doing in her free time and struggled with what to write, so she ad
ded in several books that she’d be able to read quickly. Hopefully, that would free up much of her time.

  “I’ll make myself dinner every night,” Rapunzel said, pointing to the blank spots on the schedule.

  “Why ever would you do that? Cook will be here. She can bring your dinner each night.”

  “I like to cook,” she said, standing and moving to the bookcase that rested against the gray stone wall next to the door. She turned to her mother. “Who is Cook anyway? Is she a maid or something?” She’d never seen or met her, only eaten food cooked by her and either left at her door or brought up by her mother.

  Her mother looked at her oddly. “She’s the cook.”

  Rapunzel laughed. “Our cook’s name is Cook? How ironic is that?”

  “Of course it’s not her name,” her mother scoffed.

  “Her name isn’t Cook?” Rapunzel was confused. “But then, what is her name? Why do we call her Cook?”

  “We don’t call her anything.” She stood and closed the folder that held the schedule. “She is the cook, therefore I call her Cook. Her name is unimportant.”

  Rapunzel’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to voice her surprise at such an attitude when her mother froze. Rapunzel followed her gaze and saw what had caught her mother’s attention. Earlier she had dropped a glass of orange juice that shattered. She thought she’d cleaned it up, but now saw the sticky spot under the cabinet’s edge. Dread tightened her stomach.

  “Rapunzel,” her mother said, voice quivering, face suddenly pale and clammy.

  “I’m sorry,” Rapunzel quickly apologized, rushing over to the sink to wet a cloth. She dropped to her knees and frantically scrubbed at the spot.

  Once she was certain the sticky area was more than clean and had been sterilized with the bleach solution, she turned back to her mother who stared blankly at the spot where it had been. “It’s gone now, see?” she asked tentatively, moving slowly toward her mother.