Rapunzel Untangled (11 page)

That part was new, the part with the black room, but there was no doubt why it had infused itself into her dream. The beginning was also different and also easy to see why she had dreamed it. The middle part however, with her as an infant, was a dream she’d had repeatedly as a child. She didn’t know how many nights she had woken up crying, though from a feeling of loss rather than the terror this new version inspired. It always ended with the woman reaching for her and her desire to be held by the woman. She hadn’t had the dream for several years now.

She snapped the light off as she exited her bathroom, then quickly turned it back on when the darkness surrounded her. She decided it wouldn’t hurt to sleep with it on for one night.

 
^.*
*

F
ane came to Rapunzel’s every day as soon as the workers left, staying for dinner, until the day before she expected her mother to come home. Rapunzel knew he wanted to explore the house more, could sense his restlessness, but every time she thought of it, thought of the room beneath her—of discovering more unsettling secrets—she couldn’t bring herself to leave the room.

He’d discovered a back hallway that brought him up to her rooms without passing through the kitchen or family room area where Cook always seemed to be. Still, Rapunzel worried about him each time he came and left.

He brought a couple different games for them to play. Monopoly was one of her favorites, aside from poker. She was saddened by the thought of their meetings ending. Her mother had never gone out of town before so she had no reason to believe she would ever do so again.

“I guess tomorrow we go back to conversations on Facebook,” she said to him as they ate her homemade chicken burritos.

“Not Facebook,” he said. “Skype.”

“Oh, yeah.” She smiled. “I guess that’s better. At least it will feel like we’re kind of together.” She took another bite, watching him as he devoured his own. “Aren’t your friends upset you’ve been spending all your time here?” He’d told her about some of them.

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t tell them I was here.”

Rapunzel knew that, because he’d promised not to tell. “Where do they think you’ve been?”

He glanced at her and quickly away. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “Don’t be mad, okay?” he said.

Rapunzel shook her head. “I won’t be.”

He lifted the lemonade to his mouth as if to take a drink, then sighed and set it back down without doing so. “I told them I’d met this hot girl who lived nearby, but they didn’t know her since she doesn’t go to our school.”

“Okay,” she said.

He just stared at her.

“Well, it’s all true—except the ‘hot girl’ part,” she continued.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?” Rapunzel was genuinely confused.

“Because I told them about you.”

“You didn’t tell them who I am or where I live, right?” He nodded. “So, that’s okay.”

“Huh.” He took another large bite of his burrito. “I think I’ve been dating girls who are way too high maintenance.” Rapunzel didn’t know what he meant by that but didn’t ask. He grinned at her. “And just so you know, the ‘hot girl’ part is true. You’re one of the hottest girls I know.”

Rapunzel shoved him lightly against his shoulder, laughing, her face heating as it always did when he teased her that way.

When it was nearing time for him to leave, Rapunzel felt a rush of sadness. They stood just inside the closed doorway, the one she wouldn’t be leaving again for who knew how long. Suddenly she regretted not spending the time outside the room with Fane. She would have loved to see the greenhouse one more time.

“I’m going to miss . . .” she began, but lost courage and finished with, “beating you at poker.”

“I’m not going to miss getting my butt kicked on a regular basis.” He laughed. He stepped closer, lifting one hand to brush along her jaw. A shiver ran through her at his touch. “But I am going to miss you.”

She swallowed over the lump of fear in her throat and braved the question. “Will you kiss me before you go?”

Fane looked stunned and took a step back from her. Rapunzel read the hesitancy in his eyes. Her heart plummeted, and she dropped her gaze. He tugged her chin back up until she was looking at him.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. But you . . . I mean, if I . . .” He blew a breath out. “It could make you sick, Rapunzel. It could kill you.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “Maybe,” she conceded. “But I also thought it would kill me to be around strangers and to leave my room. It didn’t. The thing is, I might never get the chance to see you again, or anyone else for that matter. I don’t want to live my entire life wondering.”

“Wondering if a kiss can kill you?” he asked.

“Wondering what it feels like,” she answered.

Fane shook his head, the movement barely discernible. He stepped forward once again, his eyes locked firmly on hers, asking silently if she was certain. She answered with a tiny nod. His hand came up to her face once again, then the other, until her jaw was sandwiched between them. He leaned forward, never taking his eyes from hers. At the last second, just as he touched his lips to hers, he closed his eyes.

Rapunzel watched, a strange feeling flooding her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. It was a feeling similar to when she lay on the grass and the sun enveloped her, warming her. She let her eyes drift closed and realized what she’d been missing by keeping them open. Now she could simply
feel
. His thumbs on the edge of her jaw, lightly moving up and down. His fingers wrapped lightly around the sides and back of her neck. His lips moving gently across hers felt unlike anything she could have imagined, soft and warm, the pressure slight but firm. His whiskers tickled her chin.

He slanted his head, urging her to slant her own in the opposite direction with the slightest pressure of his thumbs. The kiss changed, became more demanding. His mouth opened slightly, and she bravely followed suit. The sun-heat became scorching, and with her eyes closed she found the courage to slide her hands around his waist. He took her hands and placed them on his shoulders, placing his own on her waist and pulling her closer. She boldly threaded her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Rapunzel’s pulse beat swiftly in her chest at their closeness. Finally he lifted his mouth from hers, and the loss was immediate. He wrapped his arms tightly about her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She tightened her embrace, and they stood that way, silently, for several minutes. Peace swathed Rapunzel, something she couldn’t remember feeling before.

Fane released her in slow degrees until he was a step away and holding both her hands. He smiled and said, “Wow.” Rapunzel nodded, blushing furiously.

“Thank you,” she whispered. He brought her hands to his mouth, kissing them as he backed out the door. Rapunzel stood in the hall until he disappeared from sight, twisted the lock on the handle before closing the door, then hurried to the window to wait. He always waved from below. This night was no exception, though tonight he also blew her a kiss. She smiled at the gesture.

After he was gone, she brought her fingers to her lips. She felt changed, renewed. Time would tell if the kiss would make her sick, but she didn’t care. If she didn’t wake up tomorrow, she’d be happy. She walked into her bedroom and sat at her vanity, staring at her image. She looked the same as always. She touched her lips again and marveled at the remembrance of the kiss, a smile behind her fingers.

The smile fell as she realized she would never be kissed like that again. She’d have the memory for her whole life—something she could think about, dream about.

She’d also have the memory to torment her.

 
^.*
*

R
apunzel’s mother returned on the sixth day as promised. As much as she’d missed her, Rapunzel was almost sorry to see her come because it meant no more visits from Fane.

“Hello,” her mother said, breezing into the room. It had been six days, but she didn’t move to hug Rapunzel, nor did she say she missed her, which bothered Rapunzel.

“Hi, Mother.”

“Was everything okay while I was gone?”

Rapunzel smiled.
Okay
didn’t begin to cover it. “Yes, Mother, everything was . . . fine.”

“Did you complete your homework?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have enough food?”

“Yes.”

“Did you brush your hair seventy—”

“Yes, Mother.” Rapunzel couldn’t keep the exasperation from her tone. “I brushed my hair each night. I brushed my teeth twice a day. I kept my room clean.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed at her. “Why the attitude, Rapunzel?”

Rapunzel shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Her mother flicked her fingers her way, as if to dismiss her apology. For the first time she wished her mother would pay closer attention. She should delve further to understand why Rapunzel felt frustrated. Couldn’t she see the changes that Rapunzel felt inside?

“Mother . . .” Rapunzel began as her mother carried in the food that Rapunzel was sure was prepared by Cook. “Do you think . . . ?”

When she didn’t finish her thought, her mother glanced at her irritably. “Complete your sentences, please, Rapunzel.”

Rapunzel took a breath. “Do you think, if I wore the mask, I could leave my rooms? Just go into another part of the house?”

Her mother blanched, then flushed red as anger suffused her face. “What are you talking about? Do you think I would risk your life like that? Rapunzel, you know of the prophecy. You know what is to be lost if you don’t live.”

Rapunzel cowered at her mother’s words. She honestly didn’t know exactly what would be lost, only that she was the key. She thought about spending the rest of her life inside these walls . . . never being kissed again.

“What if it doesn’t hurt me? What if staying inside the house is okay? I just don’t like the thought of spending the next fifty or sixty years in this room.”

Her mother began pacing, wringing her hands. “You know that isn’t possible. The risk is too high. You can’t leave here, Rapunzel. You can’t do it.”

Had her mother been yelling the words, Rapunzel might have continued pressing it. But the words came in a half-mumbled nervous rush, her mother’s wringing hands trembling.

“You wouldn’t just endanger me, you’d endanger everything. Do you understand?” Rapunzel didn’t think she was talking to her anymore. Her stomach clenched with a different kind of fear. Suddenly her mother whirled toward her and seized her upper arms, pulling her close to her face. “Do you understand? Haven’t I done everything for you? Haven’t I protected you, kept you safe? I built this tower just for you.” A vision of the black room covered in sixes flashed through Rapunzel’s mind. “How can you question me now? All of this is for
you
.”

She flung Rapunzel away from her and strode to the door, ripping it open. Turning back to Rapunzel, fury lighting her eyes, with a voice low and full of warning, her mother said, “Don’t ever ask to leave again, Rapunzel.” Rapunzel swallowed and nodded once.

Her mother slammed the door, and Rapunzel dropped to the floor. She wrapped her arms about her knees, burying her face as she rocked back and forth. A nervous trembling shook her body silently. She felt as if she’d just survived an earthquake—not that she knew what one felt like.

After a few minutes, she stood and cleaned up the uneaten dinner. She had no appetite. She sat in front of her computer, wondering if she turned it on if she’d find Fane on the other end. She lifted her hand to try, but stopped, her fingers hovering just above the keyboard. With a sigh she dropped her hand back to her lap. She couldn’t tell him what had happened. She wasn’t entirely sure herself what had happened. And what could he do, anyway?

She pulled a book from the shelf and sat on the couch. She never opened the cover. Her mind kept spinning through the events and her mother’s strange words. She knew of the prophecy—or some of it anyway. It had been drilled into her for as long as she could remember. She’d always been told that she had to stay healthy and never cut her hair. She realized her mother had never said
why
really, other than the fate of the future depended on her, that the world would be destroyed if something happened to her. Her mother said that her disease was part of the proof that she needed to be kept completely safe and kept away from the rest of the world. Now she began to doubt the authenticity of it. After all, she’d survived having someone besides her mother in her rooms and being out of her rooms. Even outdoors.

She’d survived being kissed. She’d
enjoyed
being kissed.

She went into her room, glancing at the clock. Enough time had passed she doubted her mother would come back. She got ready for bed and brushed her hair. She pulled back her covers and climbed into bed. As she did, a thought struck her and she sat up. She glanced toward her bedroom door and the living area beyond.

She walked out of her room slowly, hoping. She approached her door and slowly twisted the handle, her heart pounding in her chest. It turned easily and when she tugged on it, the door opened. Her breath rushed out as she peered around the edge of the door.

She glanced back at the microwave. The time shone bright red in the darkness of the room: 9:56. She looked into the hallway, able to see the edge of light coming from somewhere else. Her mother was probably still up. Others might be up as well, like Cook, and . . . well, whoever else might live in the house. She quietly closed the door and walked into her room.

Instead of climbing back into bed, she pulled her nightgown over her head and dressed once again.

 
^.*
*

A
t midnight she felt safe to leave her rooms. She pushed aside the covers she’d been buried beneath—just in case her mother came back to check on her—and moved to the door. It still opened freely. She thought maybe her mother remembered and came back to lock her in once again. Beyond the door was darkness. She wished Fane had left his flashlight behind. Then she thought of the cell phone her mother hadn’t retrieved, remembering how Fane used his to light the way.