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My Name is Rapunzel(63)

By:K.C. Hilton


“Oh, definitely. That would be fun. Let's do that as soon as possible.” At least within the next few years.

“Here we are.” John zipped his little car into a parking lot and chose a space near the front door. “I picked a place that might be comfortable for you. A lot like the last time you ventured to town, I guess.” He held the door open for me to step through, back in time.

Elvis Presley blared from the jukebox. Waitresses rolled by on roller skates, scuffing the black and white checkerboard floor tile. John steered me to a stool at the countertop and ordered me a chocolate shake.

I looked up at the walls and smiled at the pictures of James Dean and others from that era. The waitress set down my milkshake, complete with whipped cream and a cherry on top. I took a big sip. Perfection.

During lunch, John told me more about his life. He especially liked talking about his childhood and his aunt. He'd been an only child and didn't have any family currently living. I felt a sad sort of connection with him. I knew what alone felt like.

John hadn't found the right woman yet, and he didn't plan on settling down anytime soon. “Why the rush?” he asked out loud, but clearly didn't expect me to answer. “I'm enjoying my freedom. I do have the occasional date, but nothing serious, of course. I want to be free. From my job. From demanding people. Free, like your dragon.”

“But the dragon is alone. He has no family. How could he possibly be happy?” I asked in a low voice, not wanting anyone to hear. “I think the dragon is sad sometimes.” John didn't understand just how lonely it could be to be a dragon. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t realize it. I understood completely.

We took a stroll through the park in the center of town. I kept my head down and avoided eye contact with anyone who crossed our path. My nerves had settled, but it was still difficult. We wandered down Main Street, exploring the shops and peeking in windows.

We visited a small medieval museum, apparently a great tourist attraction. It depicted coats of arms, old swords, and armor complete with the helmets. It was erected because of the dragon myth, no doubt. The museum was connected to a little store at its exit. Even from outside I could see the store was filled with books about the Crusades, King Arthur, dragons, and wizards. Replica costumes were displayed throughout the shop, as were tiny wooden swords, which were surely a big hit with the tourist children.

It turned out to be the most wonderful day ever. Better than I had imagined it would be. How could anything top this? Things had changed so much, but much had stayed the same. Yes, some new structures had been erected on the outskirts of town, but Main Street held the same buildings, though spruced up with paint or new awnings and signs.

The cars that lined the street and the way people dressed were the biggest changes to me. Newspapers and magazines were one thing, but experiencing modern culture in person was an entirely different thing. Material excess was everywhere. And cell phones. Everyone spoke or typed into a cell phone.

I gasped and grabbed John's sleeve. I pointed my finger at the shop across the street. “It's still here.” I grinned up at John's surprised face.

“What? That old bookstore?” John shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it's still here. But there's a bigger and better one down the road. We can head over there if you like.”

“No way. Old ones are the best.” Bigger and better would never smell like an old bookstore. It would probably smell more like Starbucks had.

We held hands as we crossed the street. John pushed the door open, sending off a cacophony of chimes—so much for discreet.

“Feel free to browse around. I'll be with you in just a minute!” a man shouted from the back room.

The smell of musty old pages, mingled with incense and years, assaulted my brain. Instantly I sailed back to moments as a tiny child sitting on Father's lap listening to his wild stories—unbelievable, yet perfectly believable, much like my own story.

“Pick out anything you want. It's my treat.” John smiled and handed me a small basket. How could I resist? So many books. Where would I start? I took to the aisles like a child, touching them, examining the cover designs, and smelling them. I probably looked crazy sniffing the pages. Musty books and a rosewater bath was all a girl needed.

My basket grew heavy and the wire handles dug into my forearm. And I was only halfway through the shop. What other treasures might I uncover?

All shopped out, I followed John to the checkout counter. John tapped the bell on the counter for assistance and I placed my books next to the register.

“Are you stocking up? You know you can buy new and used books online, much cheaper than in a bookstore.” John grinned, looking at the stack on the counter. “Bookstore prices can be outrageous.”