Rapunzel - 3 of 3

As the days went on, they continued their conversation through her blogging and his replying. No one ever bothered them or interjected their own words. They were free to communicate and reflect and share thoughts and feelings.

Rapunzel: I am trapped at home. I can’t go away for school because I can barely afford the classes on my own, let alone food and housing. My Dad needs me here. Mom is getting more reliable these days, but there are still days that she depends on me to get things taken care of. I am trapped in a tower with only a window and no stairs. I can see what I want, to go to school, to learn, to live on my own, but I have no way of getting there.

William: I wish I could come in riding on my noble steed, let’s call him “Beat up Volkswagen.” I’d take you away from there and you could come live in the building across the parking lot from me. We could go on dates and eat greasy food and have fun together. Sing me another song, I love to hear your voice!

She would send him songs saved in her archives of years of recording herself singing other people’s songs. Depending on her mood, she would send him silly, twangy country songs that made them both laugh or other times slow, beautiful ballads that not only showcased her lilting voice, but also her heart and her truest feelings. Will downloaded her songs onto his iPod and listened to them often.
As the months passed and the time for finals approached, their posts grew farther apart. They centered more on the mundane subjects they were studying and were rife with excuses for not writing more often. The summer was no better as they both worked hard to earn money for the next semester. Then something magical happened.
Will was driving his beat up Volkswagen to work one afternoon and the radio station he was listening to began playing a very familiar tune with a very familiar voice singing it. He could hardly believe his ears as Rapunzel’s voice came to him over the air waves. He was so excited he didn’t know what to do! He saw a phone booth and pulled over erratically to look up the address of the radio station. It was in the business park near his job, and he could hardly contain himself as he pulled into the parking lot just beyond the one for his job and swung open the glass door with the station’s call letters emblazoned on it.
“I know I’m gonna sound a little crazy,” he said breathlessly to the manicured woman behind the desk, “but I gotta know who sings that song!”
“Excuse me?” the heavily made up girl asked slowly.
“You just played a song. I’ve heard it before, but I don’t know who it’s sung by. I’m sorry if I’m being a pest, I just have to know. Please?”
“Here,” she thrust a Xeroxed list at him and went back to her typing. It was a list of songs to be played that day. Next to the title of the song, Baby Girl was written Guest Artist.
“I’m sorry, ma’am? The song I was wondering about, it just says Guest Artist. Do you know who it was?”
“Some chick came in and recorded it last week. She never picked up her check though. I’m still waiting for her to come in.”
“Last week? She lives here in town?”
“If you can call Salt Lake a town, then yeah, she lives here.”
Staggered by the thought that his Rapunzel could walk in at any moment to pick up a paycheck, he rubbed his head with his left hand and stared at the song printed on the paper in his right. He turned to leave and didn’t realize until 20 minutes later when he was already sitting behind his desk that he had forgotten to ask the receptionist her name.
His blog entry that night was carefully thought out and had been rumbling around in his head all day at work.

“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair! I was riding through the forest on my noble Volkswagen when your voice came to me as though from a dream. When I realized I was awake, and that you were coming from my radio speakers, I could hardly contain myself! When the radio station told me the song was done by a local artist, I nearly fell on the floor! Is there any way you would lend me your hair so I may climb up to meet you? Even if it’s as scary to you as it is to me, I beg you not to say no. Even if we’re not a perfect match physically, I wouldn’t give up these months of communication for all of Rumplestiltskin’s gold! You name the place and I’ll follow you there.”

There was no response that night or the next. Will’s will began to buckle as he began to lose hope of meeting his fairytale girl. Just then, the window opened and down came a long, woven braid. The message read:

“Meet me at the Jamba Juice near State Street and 53rd South Saturday night near 6:00. I actually do have long hair, but It doesn’t really matter where I’m from or what I’m like, I don’t know you and you don’t know me, so come on, let’s dance anyway!”

The reference to her profile was not lost on William and he realized she was as nervous about meeting in person as he was.
The night couldn’t come soon enough and William drove with the windows down hoping the movement of the air might convince the sweat not to threaten his composure. His characteristically short hair hadn’t needed more than a wash, but his clothes he had carefully chosen to present the best image of himself. A tie would have been false representation, but a buttoned shirt undone by one seemed to fit his style along with well-fitting jeans and gym shoes. His arm reached across the passenger seat to keep the vase of flowers from tipping whenever he turned. If things went well, they would be hers before the night was over.
He entered the Jamba Juice ten minutes after 6 and, hands in pockets, looked around. A trio of girls twittered to each other in the corner and he studied them wondering if one could be her. They looked too young and he turned his glance to the board of choices above the register. Something cold to sip might calm his nerves. He walked towards the counter, face uplifted to the lighted sign. As he approached the register and brought his gaze down, his eyes met hers and he knew. He just knew.
“It’s you;” he paused, “isn’t it?”
Her crystal blue eyes looked misty and far away as they gazed back at him. She nodded and without a word, went to the back and shed her black apron and hair net to return wearing a beautiful silk blouse and slim fitting jeans. Her wavy golden hair nearly reached her waist when freed from the poofy hair net. She grabbed two juices already prepared from the counter and followed his outstretched arm holding the door open for her into the glaring setting sun.
“Lets’ walk this way,” she said softly, offering him one of the juices.
They walked around the corner and through a back parking lot and up a grassy hill to a park. They began the path stealing glances at each other and sipping their juice.
“I’m Rebecca,” Rapunzel noted quietly.
“I’m William, but I go by Will.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Prince William,” Rebecca giggled infectiously.
Will chuckled as his right hand found her left and they continued walking down a shady path between the trees.