Rapunzel Untangled (6 page)

It downloaded quickly and she tried to concentrate on it, she really did, but Rapunzel couldn’t keep her mind off Fane. They’d talked every night on Facebook, but it felt restrained somehow. She wondered if it was his nervousness of their impending meeting . . . or if it was something else.

She was just about to shut the movie off when the two main characters began kissing. She leaned back in the chair and watched, touching her own mouth as she watched the action. Would she ever be kissed? Probably not. One kiss could kill her. As the two characters pulled away and gazed into one another’s eyes, she felt the pang of loss. No one would ever look at her that way, no one would ever hold her like that. She snapped the computer off and strode from the alcove, brushing her tears away.

She scrutinized the room, making sure it was perfectly clean and sterile. On a whim she decided to bake cookies. Two hours later, the room once again sterile but aromatic with the scent of fresh baked cookies, she walked into her bedroom. She sat at her vanity and looked at herself.

She’d watched a movie recently in which a plain girl was made beautiful by making herself up, subsequently wanted by the movie’s hero. She wished she had some makeup to make herself look better, but it wasn’t allowed. She touched her plaited hair. She pulled the heavy end up and released the tie, fingering the braid until the strands hung free. She brushed it until it gleamed.

She looked at the clock on the microwave. 7:45. Her stomach tightened. She moved to the alcove, opening the window in case he came early. There wasn’t any light in the alcove. It was dim enough she felt safe standing there waiting. She saw him when he came around the corner of her house and her nerves, already taut, felt as if they would snap.

“Rapunzel!” he called in a loud whisper.

“I’m here,” she called back in the same manner. She leaned forward a little so he would see where she was. He waved.

“I’m coming up.”

She watched as he tugged against the trellis, testing its security. As he started to climb, she pulled the mask from her pocket and secured it around her ears. Her quick breathing pressed loudly behind the mask, and she could hear her heart pounding. At the last moment, as his hand touched the windowsill, she made a decision, ripping the mask from her face and shoving it into her pocket.

As his face came into the window, she could see the outline of him, but it was too dim for details. Still, her pulse sped up. In just moments she’d be seeing another person up close, other than her mother, for the first time in her life.

“Hi,” he said, and she could see his stark white teeth against the darkness.

“Hi,” she answered.

He pulled himself over the ledge, half falling into the alcove with a laugh. “You have a light in here?” he asked. She closed the drapes, leaving them in deep darkness before she clicked the dim lamp on, creating muted light. As he got his first look at her, he stopped moving. His mouth dropped a bit as he gazed at her. For a moment Rapunzel wondered if this was a mistake, if she’d made a horrible error in judgment by allowing him in. Then he swallowed, loudly.

“Wow, you’re really . . . beautiful,” he said slowly on an exhaled breath.

Her cheeks heated up, and she raised her hands to touch them, vaguely worried about why they suddenly felt so warm. She lifted the corners of her mouth in a small smile, embarrassed by his words.

“Um . . . thank you, I suppose,” she said quietly.

He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of something, then continued to his full height. Now it was her turn to be stunned. She’d had some idea of what he looked like, of course, from his photos on Facebook. He was tall, as she’d known. His dark hair was pushed back from his forehead, a thick lock falling onto one temple, landing above a short sideburn. His eyes were dark in the muted light, lips full above a patch of dark whiskers on his chin. She came to just below his shoulder. He was trim but substantial somehow, broad shouldered. He had on jeans and a long-sleeved polo shirt pushed up to just below his elbows, revealing muscled arms. As handsome as she’d thought him in the photos, he was even more so standing before her.

“Would you . . . ” she began nervously, sweeping one hand toward the sitting room. “Would you like to come in?”

He finally tore his eyes from her face and looked beyond her. “Sure,” he answered, walking past her. As he did so, she inhaled deeply the scent of another human being. She wasn’t sure how to describe the smell: clean, musky, something altogether different than anything she’d smelled before—and very, very pleasant.

“Wow,” he repeated as he stepped out of the alcove into the seating area. “This is some setup you have here.”

She looked around. It looked the same to her as it did every day, as it had every single day of her life. He stopped next to the bookcase and turned back toward her. She stood next to the opening to the alcove.

“So, what’s the deal?” he asked. “You said you can’t ever go outside. Why not? What happens if you do?”

“I’ll die,” she answered simply. His eyes widened and she understood that she had perhaps spoken too abruptly. “I mean,” she tried to backpedal, “I have a disease—”

He stepped away from her, a small motion, but obvious nonetheless. “What kind of disease?” His voice sounded tight though clearly he tried to sound normal. “Is it contagious?”

“No.” Her answer was firm. She knew for certain that it wasn’t
her
that was the danger. It was the world that threatened her life. “I have SCIDs—which stands for Severe Combined Immunodeficiency. It’s an immune system deficiency I was born with. If I’m exposed to any germs or bacteria, my body will be unable to fight them, and I’ll die.”

His look became even more worried. “Isn’t it dangerous having me here? Who knows what germs I brought in with me?”

She shook her head. She had considered that possibility before she had asked him over. The invitation hadn’t been extended lightly. “It doesn’t matter,” she said lightly, eyes turned to the floor. “I’ve been here alone for so long that sometimes I think it’s worth the risk, exposing myself, just to spend a few hours with someone.”

He relaxed his worried pose, now looking sympathetic. “That sucks,” he said.

She grinned and laughed when he added his grin to hers.

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” she said.

“So you just sit here, all day, all alone?” His tone was incredulous. She only nodded in answer as she moved forward into the room and the full light.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, seeing her hair. “I have never seen hair like that.”

She self-consciously pulled a long strand around to the front and played idly with it as she lowered herself into the chair. He sat across from her on the sofa.

“It’s pretty heavy to lug around all day. It’s never been cut,” she said.

“That’s amazing.” He leaned forward. “Can I touch it?”

She shied back for a moment, then realized he couldn’t hurt her by
touching
it. “Okay,” she said. He stepped around the oval table that separated them. He crouched down next to her and almost reverently reached out. Taking one thick strand between his thumb and finger he slowly pulled downward until he had nearly reached the end before letting go.

“It’s so soft,” he murmured. She was glad she had taken the time to so thoroughly brush it before his arrival. Her eyes dropped to the patch of hair on his chin. She’d never seen facial hair before. He reached up and lightly scratched his fingers through it. “Do you think my mom’s right about shaving it?”

She shook her head. She brought one hand halfway up. “May I?” she asked, looking at him for permission. He nodded and she touched the tips of her fingers to the bristly, wiry strands. She hadn’t felt anything like it before, rough and scratchy. She pinched a small chunk, amazed at the thickness of it. Her eyes came to his in amazement.

He glanced up at her from beneath long, dark lashes, and her breath caught in her throat. She’d never been so close to a boy before. She’d never been so close to
any
one before besides her mother. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she unthinkingly licked her lips, remembering the kiss she had watched in the movie earlier. His eyes came back to hers, and something within their depths, something intense and hungry, sent a skitter down her spine. He slowly lifted his face toward her. The movement caused her to draw a breath. As if that broke whatever spell held them, he blinked and backed away from her. He moved back to the sofa, and she felt the loss of . . . something. She just wasn’t sure what.

He shrugged and held out his empty hands. “I didn’t bring pizza.”

“That’s okay.” She smiled. “It might have been kind of difficult to climb up carrying a pizza.”

“It was kind of tough climbing up
without
carrying a pizza.”

Her smile fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t consider that. It wasn’t fair of me to—”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “I wasn’t complaining. Just stating a fact.”

“Oh.” She lifted the corners of her mouth temporarily, returning her gaze to the floor.

“So . . . this is awkward, huh?” he asked.

She shrugged, then remembered the cookies. “Oh, I made some cookies. Do you want some?”

“I never turn down cookies.” He stood and followed her to the kitchen area. “Wow,” he said yet again. “Your hair is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. How long is it?”

“I think about fifteen feet,” she said, blushing.

“That’s gotta be some kind of record. You could probably be in the
Guinness Book of World Records
.”

“That would require someone coming in to measure it, right? And that isn’t allowed. I don’t think they’d just take my word for it,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, right.” He sat at one of the bar stools at the counter and she put the place of cookies in front of him. “So this is like, your apartment?”

“I suppose,” she said, turning to the fridge. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure, whatcha got?”

She looked into the cold interior. “Milk, lemonade, or water.”

“What goes better with cookies than milk?” he asked with a grin.

She filled two glasses and sat next to him, taking a cookie.

“These are fantastic,” he said around a mouthful of cookie. “Did you make them?”

“I did.” She couldn’t help the flush of pride at his genuine pleasure.

“I have to tell you,” he said, “I was pretty skeptical about coming here.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just nodded.

“Not because of you,” he said. She could feel the weight of his gaze, so she turned to look at him. “I couldn’t wait to finally meet you face-to-face.” She felt her cheeks heat up but held his gaze. “It’s just that I honestly didn’t believe you were who you said you were.”

“Thought I was a creepy stalker, huh?” she teased, and he laughed, breaking the tension.

“You’re definitely not creepy,” he said. “It remains to be seen whether you’re a stalker.”

She laughed. “Kind of hard to stalk from my . . . tower.”

“The girl in the tower,” he murmured. “Who woulda thunk it was the truth?”

 
^.*
*

A
fter Fane finished half the plate of cookies—to Rapunzel’s amazement—he stood and looked around.

“So, do I get the grand tour?”

“Uh, sure.” She led him to the alcove where her computer sat.

“Is this where you sit when we’re talking? Or chatting, or whatever you want to call it,” he asked, stepping in and looking around.

“Yes.”

“Cool. Now I’ll be able to picture you. Before it was like just this weird . . . 
void
when I tried to imagine you or your surroundings.” He looked at her. “What did you picture about me?”

Rapunzel glanced up at the second lock of hair that escaped his brushed back hair, framing his face. “Pretty much like you look now, because you look very much like your pictures. Maybe better.” He grinned knowingly and she dropped her eyes. “I guess I just picture the area where you sit as the same as mine.”

He placed a hand against the rough stone wall and rubbed it, his hand vibrating across the uneven surface. “No rock walls in my house,” he said casually.

“Oh.” She really didn’t know what to say to that. Was it abnormal to have walls of stone? They were only in the two alcoves. In the other rooms the walls were sheet rocked and painted. “Well, this is where I do my schoolwork.” She turned and exited the alcove. He took one more look around before following. She led him into her bedroom, and he let out a low whistle.

“I know a lot of girls who would
kill
for a room like this,” he said. Rapunzel scanned the room. It felt normal to her, but since she’d never seen another room she couldn’t really compare. He walked over to the bed and ran a hand down one of the four thick posts that sat on each corner. He leaned in and peeked up at the white gauzy material that draped in a large X from corner to corner. He sat on the edge of the mattress, which he could easily do without having to hop up onto the bed as she did, and bounced up and down a few times. “Holy . . . is that your bathroom?” he asked incredulously, leaning forward. Without waiting for an answer he stood and walked into the room he spoke of, flipping on the light switch. The white marble floors and counters gleamed.

“That sucker is huge!” he exclaimed, eyeing the sunken tub. “You could swim laps in that thing.”

“I hardly ever use it,” she admitted. “It seems like a waste to fill it with so much water for one person. Plus, it’s much easier to wash my hair in the shower.”

He looked at her hair again, reached out and touched a strand almost unthinkingly, then turned in a half-circle. “That’s where the magic happens, huh?” he asked, indicating the glass enclosed shower. She didn’t know what magic he meant but nodded anyway. He ran his hand along the marble countertop the length of both sinks, opening one drawer just the smallest bit before pushing it closed. His brows raised in humor at the monogrammed towels.

Rapunzel watched his reflection in the mirror as he circled her bathroom. He seemed curious about her space, which felt odd to her. He lived in the world where he saw all kinds of things, not shut in like her in a limited world. How could any of this be interesting?