“But,” the clerk stumbled on his words. “I know it's you. My memory hasn't faded and my mind is as sharp as it was when I was young.” The clerk lifted his finger, pointing it toward me again. “How can this be possible?” He looked as if he'd seen a ghost, and that ghost was me.
John must have sensed my fear. He tried to change the subject to take the clerk's attention away from me. “You say this book—” John tapped the cover—” was your favorite story because you had seen someone resembling the main character, a character from a fairy tale, right in front of your eyes?” John's eyes lingered on the book.
“Yes, that's right. That's what I said.”
John read the title out loud. “Rapunzel. I remember that story.” He chuckled. “If I were to be part of a fairy tale, I'd want to be a dragon.” Oh, he was just making fun of me now. How dare he? If he believed the dragon to be real, he certainly wouldn't bring it up, because it would be dangerous for the dragon and me.
“A dragon?” The clerk looked confused. It worked. He was distracted and focused on John. I could breathe again, hopefully long enough to get my thoughts together. I rubbed my hands together to dry them off. Surely John's plan would work. Whatever it was. I just wish he'd hurry it up so we could leave. “Why on earth would you want to be a dragon? They are feared creatures and nobody likes them. If you were a dragon, you would be forever hunted and you would never have any peace.” The clerk folded his arms across his chest.
“Yes, I would be feared,” John said with a smirk. “But only by those who didn't know me or would want to hurt me. My reason is simple. I would be able to fly!” John stretched his arms above his head and stared at the ceiling. “I could soar above the clouds and I would be free. Free from a job going nowhere. Free from women wanting to become my wife. Free from the world and its demands. I would be a free man, or dragon, if you will.” John laughed. “And, I almost forgot, I wouldn't have to pay taxes, ever again. Talk about tax evasion, let the government try to arrest a dragon. They'd never catch me.” John was amused, and he laughed again, but I couldn't say the same about the old man.
The clerk considered his answer. He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re crazy.”
“Tell me, sir,” John continued. “If Rapunzel is your favorite story, what character would you want to be? Perhaps you'd want to be her prince?”
Men. Why couldn’t he have shut up when the man said he was crazy? It might have ended there.
“No, not me. I'd want to be her hero. Save the day, so Rapunzel and her true love could be together. That's what character I'd want to be. Rapunzel's hero.” He said it without blinking an eye. He really was a sweet old man.
I should keep my mouth shut. But I couldn’t help it. “But Rapunzel's story doesn't have a hero like that. Not in any version that I know of, anyway.”
John released his grip on my hand and slid his arm around my waist and gave it a gentle squeeze. Maybe I should have left it alone, but I had to say it. Rapunzel doesn't have a hero. Why would the clerk think I did? What story had he read that I hadn't? I'd read them all. I knew all the stories. I knew all the lies.
The man looked directly at me. He stared at my eyes. I couldn’t look away.
“No, not yet.”
Not yet? “What do you mean?” I asked in a meek voice.
“Stories change. One day, Rapunzel will have a happier ending than the original story. Have you read the one by the Grimm Brothers? It's changed so many times over the years. I think I've read them all.”
Yes, I knew the Grimm Brothers all too well. I’d met them after we had moved to Paradise Valley. They were traveling, by horse, through my land, scouting out the countryside, looking for interesting people, they’d said. They’d asked me so many questions…
I told them my story. I told them the truth. I hoped they’d help me. And there was something trustworthy about them. I thought they’d keep their promise. But they tossed a few coins at me and bid me farewell. It wasn’t very long after that, they wrote a story and used my name. It resembled the story of my life, but they had twisted the truth to benefit their pockets. And they never helped me.
In contrast with the Grimm’s story, Mother and Father weren't to blame for my unfortunate life. I had only myself to blame for making a deal with the witch. Henry never used my hair to climb up to the tower, because he was gone before I had to leave my home. There was nothing more than a single beautiful kiss that I shared with Henry, and I definitely did not get pregnant from a kiss. Furthermore, the witch didn't scratch out the eyes of my true love…she killed him, and I certainly never saw him again. The Grimm Brothers stretched the truth so much it was barely recognizable.