Rapunzel Untangled (16 page)

Rapunzel swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d known he would do whatever he could.

“I don’t really know,” she said. “Can you ask around, see if anyone outside has heard anything? Find out what I have to do with the community?”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“And come see me soon,” she said quietly.

Fane cleared his throat. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

She smiled at him. “I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.”

“But what if I make you—”

“
Please
,” she whispered.

He stopped speaking at her plea. Then he nodded. “Okay. I’ll try to come as soon as I can.”

Rapunzel rolled her shoulders. She was still somewhat sore. “I’m really tired. I think I should go lie down.”

“Definitely,” he said. “You should definitely go lie down.”

“Fane?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you were on. Thanks for worrying so much about me.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice full of emotion.

 
^.*
*

E
ach day Rapunzel felt stronger until she finally finished taking the pills,
antibiotics
Dr. Henreich called them. She managed to be out of bed for longer periods of time, and soon her mother had reduced her visits to twice a day. This gave Rapunzel time to try to figure things out surfing the Internet.

She began by Googling SCIDs. She read about David Vetter, known as Bubble Boy, and was grateful she didn’t have to live in the same kind of sterile environment he did. Although he at least was able to have some social contact with others instead of being shut up in a tower. She didn’t know which was worse.

She was excited when she read about a vaccine or possible cure, then became disheartened when she read it was only for infants. She read about the possibility of bone marrow transplant or gene therapy but again realized these worked better on young children.

There were many sites relating to SCIDs, though most of them repeated the same information. The only hope she seemed to have was a site that talked about possible false negatives. She wondered if that were a possibility in her case, though her recent illness seemed to negate that. She could find a lot of information about causes and symptoms of her disease, but nothing definitive that said if she’d be safe going out in the general public if she were careful.

She thought of asking her mother about it, but knew there was no chance based on her recent illness. She remembered when she was six and first asked if she could go outside and play.

“No, Rapunzel, and you must never ask again.” Her mother’s tone was firm.

“But why?” her young self asked.

“Because, my dear, it was prophesied that you must live to save us. You must live, and you must never cut your hair.”

“Why?”

“Because, Rapunzel,” she said, voice full of irritation, “someone foretold of you before you were born. He told me I would have a child with golden hair who would be the savior of . . . humanity. He told me that you would live to save
everything
, and that your long, golden hair would be the beacon to light the way.”

Rapunzel had no idea what any of those words meant, but they sounded ominous. And her mother had repeated the story to her over and over through the years until she’d memorized it. Confused how she was supposed to save humanity from her tower, she didn’t want to cause the downfall of the world with her selfishness.

She shut the computer off—no chance of Fane being on during school hours—and twisted a strand of hair around her finger. She looked down at it, briefly considered cutting it, not for the first time, and knew she never would. She couldn’t take the risk.

She walked over to her window with a handful of birdseed and saw Angel huddled on the tree branch. Gray and overcast, the skies promised snow soon. She didn’t think the little bird would still be around, weathering the cold.

She pushed the window open, breathing in the fresh, clean, cool air. Smelling the outdoors was such a relief. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it. Angel flew over and looked up at her, cocking her head as if to ask where she’d been.

“I’ve been sick, little one,” she said. Angel seemed satisfied and pecked a seed from her palm. “I’m better now.”

Angel ruffled her feathers and picked up another seed.

“I wish you could talk to me,” she said. “I wish you could answer my questions. I wish
someone
could.” As she said the words, Dr. Henreich flashed into her mind. She wondered if he would answer her questions or if he’d be as closed about everything as her mother.

“Do you think the good doctor would answer my questions?” she asked the bluebird. Angel fluttered her wings, then settled back down for more seed. “I don’t know how to interpret that.” Angel looked up at her, blinked, then bobbed for another bite. “Well, I suppose if I don’t ask I’ll never know, right?” Angel chirped and snatched one more peck of seed before flitting off to her perch.

Rapunzel released the rest of the seeds, leaning on her elbows and watching her friend. “You should go soon. It’s going to snow before long. You don’t want to get caught in the cold.”

As if her words were the impetus needed, Angel flew off to the south. Rapunzel watched her go, saddened that she might not see her little friend again until the spring. She took a few more deep breaths and then closed her window.

She flopped down on her sofa, looking around at the area that had been her entire life—until Fane, that was. She thought again about the prophecy. Who had told her mother of her destiny? Rapunzel stood, intending to go back to her computer to research prophecies to see what she could discover. As she entered the cove where her computer was, she heard the door to her room open. She turned guiltily, as if she’d been about to do something wrong.

“Are you feeling better?” her mother asked with far too much concern in her voice. Rapunzel raised a brow at the false tone until she saw Dr. Henreich follow her mother in.

“Yes, I am,” she said.

“I’d like to check you over, Rapunzel,” he said. “I want to do a few tests just to make sure that we’re not going to have a relapse.”

Gothel’s eyes widened. “Is that a possibility, Henreich?” she asked, the worry in her voice genuine now.

“Of course it is,” he answered. “Though it’s unlikely. However, due to the . . . unusual circumstances of Rapunzel’s . . . uh, disease, we should make sure.”

Rapunzel wondered at his halting speech.

She led the way into her room, followed by the other two. Dr. Henreich went through a series of procedures, listening to her heart and lungs, looking in her throat, eyes, and ears.

“I’d like to take some blood to run a few tests as well,” he told her. She nodded, not sure how he was going to get the blood from her. When he pulled out the needle, she pulled back in fear.

“It’s just a small poke,” he reassured her.

Rapunzel looked toward her mother, opening her mouth to ask her to hold her hand. But her mother stared at the needle as if it were a viper.

“I’ll just be out here,” she muttered, quickly exiting the room.

Rapunzel’s attention drew back to Henreich as he tied what looked like a large rubber band around her upper arm.

“It might help if you look away.”

She nodded, took a bracing breath, and turned toward the door her mother had disappeared through. She felt a pinprick against the inside of her elbow, and a few seconds later the rubber band released. She looked at her arm and saw the blood flowing into the little vial that he had pushed onto the needle.

“That didn’t hurt,” she said, her tone reflecting her surprise.

“Good,” he said, smiling warmly at her. Suddenly it struck her—she was alone with the doctor.

“Dr. Henreich, can I ask you something?” she asked quickly before her courage deserted her.

“Certainly.” He pulled the vial away and replaced it with another.

“It’s about my SCIDs.” His eyes flicked nervously toward the door. She continued, “I’m wondering . . . do you think there might be a cure? Or something . . . some kind of way that I could maybe at least be okay enough to go outside, or see other people?”

Henreich pulled the needle from her arm, pressing a cotton ball against the dot of blood that welled up.

“Hold some pressure on this,” he said. Rapunzel began to think he wouldn’t answer her as he marked the little vials. “It’s difficult to say, Rapunzel. There are some cures that are currently being used, but it depends on each individual case.”

“Well, who would I talk to about that?” she asked excitedly.

Henreich cleared his throat and looked at the door once again.

“I don’t think any of the cures would work on you,” he said, his voice lowered. Rapunzel’s heart plummeted. “But not because I don’t think you can’t be cured.”

“What?”
What in the world did that mean?

Henreich swallowed loudly, as if he were nervous. Rapunzel thought about the secret he shared with her mother. He glanced at the door again, and Rapunzel followed his gaze.

“Is there something . . . you know? About me?” she whispered.

Henreich’s eyes cut quickly back to meet hers. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but her mother’s voice from the other room cut in.

“Are you finished yet, Henreich?” she called.

He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, then stood. Rapunzel felt as if an opportunity were slipping away.

“Please,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. “If there’s something I should know . . .”

He froze at her touch, then placed a hand over hers as her mother appeared in the doorway.

“You’re going to be okay, Rapunzel,” he said, patting her hand, sounding like a concerned doctor. But his eyes bore into hers, seeming to want her to find meaning in his words. He squeezed her hand lightly. “You’re
just fine.
”

“Well, that’s a relief, isn’t it?” her mother asked, coming further into the room. Henreich’s face tightened as he turned away, placing all of his tools back into his bag. Rapunzel watched him, once again feeling as though she missed something that, if she could just figure it out, might change her life.

 
^.*
*

W
hen you asked me about your disease and the community, is it possible you meant
immunity
?”

Rapunzel blinked. She’d been staring pretty hard at Fane through the computer screen as he regaled her with tales about school, and updated her on the beautiful sisters Marissa and Ashlynn. In all honesty, other than when he talked about the sisters she didn’t really pay attention, just took the opportunity to look at him. She missed him desperately. She hadn’t realized how lonely she was until he came along.

“Immunity?” she repeated.

“Yeah. I . . .” he trailed off, looking distinctly uncomfortable, eyes downcast. “I asked my mom what diseases had to do with the community.” He glanced up at her as if to see her reaction.

“What did she say?” she pressed.

“A
lot
,” he grinned. “And after lots of listening to her talking about diseases that affect communities, she began talking about
immunity
and I suddenly wondered if that was what you’d heard.”

“Could have,” she said, nodding. “The two words sound similar.”

“It would make more sense,” he said. “Do you remember any more of what they were talking about?”

“Not a lot,” she admitted. “It’s all kind of fuzzy. Just something about being kept inside being bad for the community . . . or the immunity, I suppose. Makes sense as SCIDs is an immune deficiency disease, right?”

“That definitely makes more sense,” he said, leaning forward excitedly. “I Googled some stuff after she said that, and I read in several places that babies who are kept inside don’t have the chance to develop normal immune systems.”

“Babies have to be exposed to the world to develop their immune system?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know a lot about immunity, so I read some stuff. It’s the . . . thing in your body that keeps you from getting sick. That’s not quite right. It’s like your body’s defense system. It’s how you’re able to fight off viruses and bacteria and other things that make you sick. If a baby isn’t exposed to some of those things when they’re a baby, they don’t have a good immunity, which means even the slightest exposure can get them sick—really sick.”

Confusion swirled around in Rapunzel’s head.

“Don’t you get it?” Fane asked. Rapunzel shook her head. “Maybe what has made you unable to go outside is the fact that your mom has kept you inside your whole life. She was afraid you’d get sick. But now, because you don’t have that immune system you need, that means you’re more likely to get sick if you
do
go outside.”

Rapunzel dropped her chin into her hands, keeping her eyes glued to Fane’s face. Even all this baffling information couldn’t dim her joy in seeing him.

“So how do I fix it?” she asked.

He slumped back in his chair. “I don’t know.”

Despair swirled around Rapunzel. “Then how am I supposed to—gotta go,” she said quickly, shutting down the program as she heard her door handle turning. She pulled up the math page she’d been working on before Skyping Fane.

“Still doing homework, Rapunzel?” her mother asked as she breezed into the room. “You’re going to cause yourself to relapse if you don’t get more rest.”

Rapunzel sighed. It had been nearly three weeks since she’d first gotten out of bed following her sickness. She felt completely normal, but her mother would have her lie in bed all day in her fear of a “relapse.” Rapunzel almost considered faking one just to see if she could get Dr. Henreich to come back so she could question him again.

“I feel fine, Mother,” she said, rising from her seat and joining her in the kitchen.

“Well, we can’t be too careful, can we?”

Rapunzel didn’t answer the rhetorical question. She slid into the seat opposite her mother and watched as she pulled the chicken, baked potatoes, and apple cobbler from the basket she’d used to carry it upstairs. Cooking was another activity her mother felt to be too strenuous and wouldn’t allow Rapunzel to do.