When I was watching the movie Tangled again, I realized what a short period of time the parents had with Rapunzel. I was actually curious to what happened after they hugged and everyone was a happy family again, so here's my take on it, yes it's a little weird. I'm not sure if the king and queen named Rapunzel or if Gothel did because in all of the stories the witch names the girl after the plant that the peasant man had traded his daughter for (great trade) and in the movie they just say "A beautiful baby girl was born…Rapunzel." And she's referred to as "the lost princess" later so I'm just like o_0. So no one kill me for that.
I'm frozen in time. The queen - well my mother - is holding me in her arms and the king was right there beside me too. Soon I felt Eugene get pulled into the group hug as well. I'm just taking in the moment. I don't really know what to think of it. These people seemed so happy to see me, and I am happy to see them too, but I was nervous.
We did eventually have to break out of the hug and when that happened, we'd have to speak. I'm not sure what they'll think of me then. It seems like we stand and separate too fast, I don't have time to think. The queen is still holding my hand and looking at me up and down. It feels like I'm being scrutinized and on display, although I know that isn't her intention.
I'm so nervous in the silence that I say in such a low voice I don't even know if my mother hears me or just sees my lips move, "Hi."
My mother repeats the phrase and keeps looking at my eyes. "All these years," she says in a tone of voice that's warmer than Mother Gothel's. "I cannot believe that it's you."
I can only manage to smile and I'm too nervous to say anything else after that. Luckily for me, the King - I suppose I should call him "Father" - speaks right after her. "You're so grown up. What happened to your hair?" he asks.
"My hair?" I'm so dazed that when he mentions my hair I almost completely forget that it was chopped off. I reach back to feel the prickly edges where my hair was cut. I panic for a moment before I remember that I had given up the gift and Eugene had saved me by taking it.
"Yes. It used to be gold and now it's brown," he says as he hesitantly reaches and picks one strand out of hundreds. Mother Gothel would have probably teased her about the new color. I try to stop thinking about what she'd say, but a few little jokes that would make me laugh half-heartedly go through my mind.
I laugh a short breathed laugh. It's not like anything was funny, I'm just that nervous. I say quickly, "Um, I guess it just darkened with age." Why did I lie? I had no reason to lie. Why would I lie then? I don't know why, but I did. I glance over at Eugene and he's looking at me in a slightly unbelieving expression. I can't believe myself either.
"I love it," the queen said. She hugs me again and I'm glad that she does. "Goodness. It's just. It's been so long, Eleanor."
Eleanor? I had a doll named Eleanor. Who was Eleanor? Wait. Is…did she call me that? "Eleanor?" I ask.
The queen's eyes widen and she covers her mouth, "Oh dear, I'm sorry. That's what we named you. But, I suppose you didn't grow up using the same name. No one else knew it except for us and it would be ridiculous of me to expect you too-" The Que - my mother's babbling was cut off when the King - I'm sorry, my father - placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. I suddenly took comfort in that. She babbled and mumbled too. I smile a little and nod.
"I guess so - I mean - not ridiculous but," I'm stuttering like an idiot. I have to cut to the chase if I want to make a good impression. "Um…my name's Rapunzel," I say.
The queen - gah, my mother - smiles like Mother Gothel did whenever I told her a compliment. A wide soundless grin and light in her eyes remind me of that one look Mother Gothel used to give. "Rapunzel," my mother repeats it. The kin - my father - does the same. They seem like they can't get enough of it as they repeat it a few times. I'm starting to think they might not like the name. I look over at Eugene, who has all but been forgotten by the King and Queen, and he gives me a reassuring smile and raises a thumb. It makes me feel a little better to know he thinks it's going well.
The Queen says examining me again, as if she's forgotten what I look like, "I suppose we have a lot to talk about. Come in. Come inside."
She doesn't let go of my hand and gently leads me forward. Her touch is gentler than Mother Gothel's. I walk into the large doors into a giant empty room. The room we were passing was bigger than three of my tower flats combined. The queen still holds my hand and gently guides me through many giant rooms made with beautiful designs in the marble and carvings. Everything here is so extravagant, so huge, so…empty. When we sit down in the parlor, there is one couch two chairs, a low table between us and a fireplace. That's it. The entire parlor could have held my room and the downstairs flat. I'm used to everything being cramped together and paintings of my fantasies are on the walls. Here, everything is spaced out and portraits of people I don't know are scarce and square in their little borders I feel…claustrophobic in reverse? There's too much space.
When I look around, I realize Eugene is missing from the room and so is Pascal. It's just my new parents and I in this giant room with a giant window behind us pouring in sunlight. I'm comforted by the window and sit down at a chair that lets me face it. The queen sits in the chair next to me and the king sits on the couch. At the tower, Mother Gothel used to sit next to me in her chair and I'd sit on the stool. We had a few chairs, but for some reason a stool and chair felt right. Now, in an extremely comfortable and lavish chair, I feel very out of my element.
My mother's the one to break the silence that I had all but forgotten about when staring at the room. "So. I suppose we should start from the beginning…Rapunzel," she says in that warm tone with a kind smile. It's different from Mother Gothel's and mine. I think it's her nervous smile because I see while she's smiling she's twiddling her thumbs and placing one polished shoe, just barely visible under her beautiful silk gown, over the other and switching. My father is close to me too, but I can't peg any nervous tics, if he's nervous at all. He just sits in with one boot crossed over the other and leaning in forward so that his cloak falls a little forward. I'm suddenly conscious of how underdressed I must be and the fact that I have no shoes. I curl my toes and try to cover up at least one of them, as if it would mask that fact. "Um…I don't know how to phrase this," she said with that nervous smile. "Who was the one that took you from us all those years ago?"
I try to picture Mother Gothel kidnapping me. There's no image for that. I know. I should be mad and hate Mother Gothel. I should have thrown her from my mind the moment I remembered who I was, but I didn't. She has been my mother for eighteen years and up until just a day ago, I had no idea of what she could be. Although that the events from merely hours ago is going to make a bitter taste in my mouth, she was the person that raised me and I can't help but feel strange when I think about her not being my real mother. Looking from the king and queen, the people that are my true parents, I see a resemblance but, they don't feel real…not just yet. I don't even know if that's the right way to phrase it.
"Um…Rapunzel?" I hear her warm voice again. I like that voice much better than Mother Gothel's, I decide.
I look to her and suddenly remember her question. "Oh…right, who took me away. Well Moth-Gothel raised me in a tower ever since I can remember."
"She kept you in a tower?" the king's voice was sympathetic with an edge of disgust just being masked.
For some reason, I instantly jump to say, "Oh she wasn't bad to me. I mean, not until recently. Um…it's complicated," I put my face in my hands for a moment and then brush back my hair. "She raised me like a mother. I don't really know what to say about her. The only reason I was never allowed to leave was because she didn't want my ha-" I cut myself off immediately. Something inside of me doesn't even want to mention my hair. I don't know why, I just won't explain it to them. They'll probably think I'm crazy if I say "I had magic hair that glows." Eugene thought I was crazy at first. Now, I'll have no way to prove it. I decide to take that part out. "-because she didn't want me to be harmed."
"Well you had to know at some point didn't you?" asked the queen.
"Yes."
"I can't believe that monster raised you for eighteen years," my father suddenly says.
"Well she wasn't-"
"Took you from your crib late at night and spirited you away. Sometimes I wonder if we were just a little more vigilant that night. Maybe you wouldn't have had to go through that."
"I wasn't really aware that I should go until recently."
"What made you leave now?" my father asked. I still am not used to that term. Mother Gothel didn't even tell me about fathers until she bought me a book when I was twelve that mentioned a dad. Until then, I thought there were just mothers and that was all. When she did tell me about fathers she said that not everyone had to have one and I didn't. I look at him up and down and I like him. He seems nice and he has that same kind expression as the woman sitting next to me.
"Um…Eugene was the one that found me in that tower and he took me to see the floating lanterns you host on my birthday. One thing led to another and then I was here," I say with an unsure smile and a nervous giggle.
The King laughs a little with me. He said in a proud voice, "I believe we owe this Eugene our sincerest thanks. He was the boy that came here with you?"
"Yes," I answer, glad to have a question I don't have to choose words for. I look around for a moment, almost expecting him to be there, but instead it's just the big room again. "Where is he?" I ask.
"Oh, I'm not sure," the queen said looking with me. She clapped her hands and suddenly a guard walked into the room. The guard looked from the queen, to me, to the king, then back to me in a double take. The queen brought his attention back to her and said, "Sir Carter, please find a mister Eugene…"
"Fitzherbert," I say.
"Eugene Fitzherbert," my mother says with a slightly amused tone. I don't blame her. It is a sort of funny name. But, I mostly think it's sweet. "We'd like to converse with him personally sometime in the near future. Oh and Sir Carter, please do not mention El-Rapunzel's arrival to anyone. Have arrangements made for a party tomorrow before you start up a few rumors." She talked to the guard like he was a longtime friend. This woman was so kind and casual it was unbelievable to me. Mother Gothel could be casual, but most of the time a healthy dose of teasing came with it.
"Yes, your highness," he says shortly and then walks like a stiff toy out of the room.
My eyes follow him until he leaves the room. It's so strange not to be running from guards. I realize that my position with both feet curled under me and my back twisted around the chair probably looks ridiculous and I move back into a sitting position and try to keep my back straight. I look back at my parents and say desperately wanting to break the silence that was just building between us, "So…you're my parents. I don't really know - I don't know anything about you two. I didn't know you existed until yesterday. Um, my point is. Well…" Why can't I form simple words? I can't get my point across and I think my stomach is jumping in all directions.
The king suddenly chimes in, instantly becoming my savior from more embarrassment, "We'd like to get to know you too."
They start with themselves, mostly because I like asking them questions more than I like telling about myself and weaving my way around happy memories with Mother Gothel. I usually like to talk about myself, but right now, I'm the last person I want to hear about right now. I learn plenty about them liking tennis, crochet, and horseback riding. I have no clue what two of the three are. I learn that my mother is addicted to reading. That gives me something in common with her and there are no words to describe how relieved I was when I learned that. My father hunts with his cousins once a year. I don't have much interest in that. I do find out that he painted in his youth and likes to buy more than create now. That's something we have in common, I suppose. They learn that I like to paint, read, and that I haven't seen much of the world since sometimes I have to ask them to explain things that are apparently common. It's not my fault I never read about the neighboring countries or what a masquerade was. I ask them questions and they respond without hesitation for maybe an hour. That wasn't very much time to do more than go over the basics.
Just as they were beginning to ask about me, because I was running out of ways to avoid talking about myself, a few servants not dressed in a guard's uniform, say that my mother and father have to attend to… well I don't really listen, something about foreign affairs. I'm just getting used to one country!
My mother, I think I'm getting used to thinking that, looks to my father and says, "I'll be there in a moment."
My father smiles a little and nods. He kisses his wife and then reaches out towards me. I'm not exactly sure how to respond. He kisses me on the forehead and pats my hair before leaving. I feel a rush of warmth and kindness and it makes me feel a little better, I hope that means I'm accepted. Once he leaves the room.
My mother looks at me again and says, "I suppose this is a lot to take in…for the both of us."
I nod and find myself shyly saying, "Yeah." At least I've stopped stuttering.
"Come with me," she says standing up and outstretching her hand. I'm hesitant but I accept the gesture and she walks me through the halls. She leads me through a few grand halls which are, again in my opinion, too wide open and spaced out. We climb a set of cold marble steps and she walks me into a room filled with dressing dummies and fabrics of all colors and designs. There's measuring tapes everywhere and pins stuck in their cushions in the corner. My mother says, "I imagine that you'll need a new dress for your party tomorrow."
I look at her and then back at the dressing dummies a little nervously. I don't think I've ever made a dress in one day before. I need a break in between and then sewing on its own takes hours. I know my sizes, but cutting patterns is time consuming and so is making everything the appropriate length and style. I look back at the fabrics of so many colors and shades. "Um…I don't think I can make one by then," I say. A puzzled expression crosses her face. Oh no. Did she expect me to be that good? Was that a common thing for girls here? "I mean. I've sewn dresses before. If I had maybe half a day I could-"
"Oh," she says with a smile forming across her face. "No, no, you're not making the dress. I'm sorry to have scared you like that. Of course not." If I wasn't making the dress, then she was? She must have been great at sewing then. I'm impressed. She claps her hands and calls, "Jock, could you come here for a moment?"
Like a creature from the forest, a tall man with a pointed mustache comes out from behind the fabrics, making me jump a little. He has pins between his teeth and a measuring tape around his neck. Two other men dressed in formal, smooth clothing like him emerge as well. Jock takes one look at me and then back at the queen. His eyes widen, but before he can say anything, my mother says, "Jock, if you would be so kind. My daughter, Rapunzel, needs a new gown for tomorrow and a nightgown for tonight."
I instantly think of all the work he'll have to do to make a dress ready for tonight, even if it is a simple nightgown. Nightfall was only a few hours away. It had to be at least twelve in the afternoon. Before I can open my mouth to protest, Jock waves his hand and says, "Not a problem, your highness."
"Good. Something gold," my mother says. "She always used to love gold."
I have no time to say anything as Jock starts to measure me with the tape and the other two assistants hold up all different designs of gold fabrics in front of me. I stare at them stupidly until my mother says I'm supposed to pick the pattern. Once I finish deciding between all of the extravagant samples, which was not an easy choice for some reason, Jock is already selecting a dummy that's my exact size. He makes a few alterations to the metal with a hammer to make it perfect. He measures me a few more times before starting to trace patterns on the fabric. I bend down to help but my mother catches me by the arm.
"Shouldn't I be helping?" I ask.
"No, Jocks job is to do that for us. Not to worry, he makes dresses all the time," she says casually. "He'll have no difficulty creating this one."
"So, I don't have to sew them?" I know it's a stupid question but it's like saying I don't have to use my hands to eat dinner. Mother Gothel taught me how to sew and brought me fabric when I was going through my fashion designer phase. I must have made twelve dresses in the span of a month. None of them were very good now that I look back on it, but it gave me practice and a wore each one as much as I could until I grew out of them two years later.
"No," she shakes her head. "All that is done for you. So, by the time we have our own little celebration, you'll be presentable. Oh, and I don't mean that contemptuously," she says quickly. "I just mean that your dress isn't exactly fit for a princess."
I like my dress despite the flaws because it was my proud work, but I don't want to say the wrong thing. I nod and giggle a little nervously, "I know. I did my best making it, but it was always too short and a few of the stitches are loose. Mother used to-I mean Gothel taught me how to sew when I was little." I know I said the wrong thing. My real mother's expression drops. She mutters something along the lines of "monster" before cheering herself up and focusing on my dress.
"Oh, I think it's charming," my mother compliments. "Just not fit for a princess, is all. Besides, sewing is such a nuisance."
I actually like to sew since it helps time pass by and I think I'm pretty good at it, but I nod anyway. Why am I suddenly acting against my feelings? I don't disagree and I don't insist on helping even though I really want to. I honestly don't feel comfortable with someone else making my dress, but I don't say a thing.
"But never mind that. I want to show you something," she says leading me out of the tailor's room and through another series of hallways. By now, I'm lost and I don't' think I'd be able to find my way back to the exit. Not that I'm eager to leave either. It's interesting to be around my mother. She's different from Mother Gothel, but in a good way mostly.
She opens a door and reveals another large room, but this one feels a little more home-like to me. There are toys everywhere on the floor in this gold-painted room. A little dresser is against the wall and a sun mobile hangs above a sumptuous crib. I stare in bewilderment at the nursery. My mother walks around a little excitedly with her arms outstretched. She says with a tinge of happiness in her voice, "This is where you slept."
I immediately move to the mobile and look up to see the golden sun emblem at the base. That's what I have been painting for so many years and it's more beautiful than my foggy memories. When I look back, my mother is holding a toy or something in her hand and looking at it with kind-sad eyes. I think she might cry and I instantly try to make the mood a little lighter. "Um…what's that?" I ask.
She looks up and says, "You don't remember it?" She turns the doll towards me. It's small cloth doll with felt hair and a blanket-like dress. The eyes are sewed-in "x"s and the smile goes across the circumference of the face until halfway. It kind of creeps me out. "It was your favorite toy," she says holding it out towards me. "It's the only thing that would keep you from crying at night, so you fell asleep with it in your arms every night." She hands it over to me.
I don't remember this toy at all. Looking down at the "x" eyes I'm really creped out. I feel like the doll is either dead or looking straight through me. But, I don't want to say anything against it. Mother Gothel gave me a doll once. She was my favorite with silky brown hair and a pretty red dress that I could play with every day. Her eyes were buttons and she was soft enough to be a stuffed animal. I think I named her Flora or something of that sort. Looking down at the doll in my hand, I'm not nearly as comforted, but I smile and say, "Of course. Yeah. It's adorable."
I see my mother smile like she had just been given a special prize. I see that she's trying to suppress her grin, but she can't. I smile too as I look back down at the doll. Mine becomes a little forced as I examine the raggedy thing. "Yeah, it's fantastic," I say.
My mother smiles and says, "You talk differently than I had anticipated."
"Hm?"
"Oh, it's nothing. It's just that I always thought you'd be preposterously well-mannered when you came home and have that proper terminology and everything," she says. I instantly panic. I don't know if I let it show, but she doesn't seem to notice because she says. "It was always a comical fantasy. Of course, you weren't raised by sovereigns so how could I expect anything more. But, the way you talk is so fascinating. It's perfect in its own way."
"Thanks," I say blushing from embarrassment. There was something wrong with the way I talked? No she just said it was fine, but it wasn't what she expected. What did perfect in its own way mean? Should I learn how to speak like royalty? I don't even know what that means. Well, I noticed my mother was very proper and she used big words sometimes, but the language was pretty basic to her. Maybe I was over thinking this. Who am I kidding? I'm over thinking everything and I'm still so nervous!
She looks down at my feet and says, "What happened to your shoes?"
"I don't have any," I say. She instantly guides me to another room. Next thing I know, I'm fitted for shoes and those are ready in moments since I'm apparently my mother's size. My mother was the one to make the design specifications. "She needs this" and "don't forget that, that always looked best." I'm beginning to feel like a blueprint.
To be honest, I've never had a pair of shoes before in my life and when I walk in them; it's a totally new movement. I don't like them that much. It feels funny when I walk. I don't like not being able to feel the textures and temperature of everything. Again, I just can't say anything because something inside of me is afraid to upset anyone in any way. I wonder if my nerves are going to go away soon. Looking up at my mother, who looks so happy to see me in shoes…or maybe she's happy to see that I'm "happy" in shoes, I smile a little wider. Mother Gothel would have caught my false expression by now.
My mother leads me through another hall and opens a door for me. "Peculiarly enough, we already had a room made out for you if you ever came home," my mother smiles. "I'm glad we get to use it."
I suddenly realize she's talking about me. She already has a room for me? I'm already accepted. I can't help but smile and I say, "I'm glad too." I can't wait to look inside. Maybe it'll have all my favorite things. My purple sheets my fun designs, a few pictures. I don't really know what to expect, but I'm excited. I look at my mother and she's looking at me again.
"Are you alright…Mother?" I ask.
She cups my face in her hand and then pulls me into a hug, "I'm just so happy to know it's really you."
"I'm so happy too," I say. I really am. Despite all the mild discomforts, I had gone through them with this woman hadn't I? She was kind and caring and lovable…but, no, I shouldn't think of any negatives. This is amazing enough as it is. Why am I spoiling it by being so picky?
She pulls back and looks up at me. "I have to go now, but we'll see each other at dinner. I'll have one of my servants come and collect you, until then, feel free to do whatever you like."
She leaves with some hesitation and keeps looking over her shoulder. I can't take my eyes away from my mother either until she turns a corner of the hall. I look back at the room. I open the door wide and reveal a giant room, like all the others. Everything is so neatly spaced out. There are parlor chairs in the corner with a tiny little table. A mahogany desk sits next to a large window that stretches from the floor to the ceiling. A vanity mirror and desk sit on the total opposite corner of the room. There is a large polished closet that has to be twice as large as the one I have at home - I mean the tower. A beautiful square-patterned rug is at the base of a large over-sized bed that could probably fit five people. The sheets were a deep red and the walls were painted gold. Everything's so proper, plain, and prearranged.
I look for a shade of a calm color that isn't so bold. That's why purple's my favorite, it's a happy color but it isn't so tough to look at. Right now, I feel like I've entered a world where everything is stiff and precise. I don't like this room very much. It's beautiful, yes. But, it's nothing like me. I know it's no one's fault, but I feel guilty for not liking it. Mother Gothel let me choose my colors and patterns. That was actually the first room she let me paint and customize. Why am I thinking of that now?
The first thing I do as I enter the room is pull off my shoes. I stay inside for maybe half an hour going through everything in there and being careful to leave no evidence that I've touched anything. The perfume bottles are aligned exactly in their former positions, and the bed is smoothed out from when I try to lay on it. That is the most comfortable mattress I have ever seen, but I feel like an intruder being on it.
After an hour, I'm bored and I decide to leave. I decide that maybe I could try to find the kitchen so I can start to help prepare dinner. The only problem is, I don't know where the kitchen is and there's hardly anyone in these big hallways. Two hours later, I admit to myself that I'm lost and I've been wandering around the halls without even looking in at the rooms. Suddenly, a man dressed in red and gold, but no armor, runs up to me and says he's been looking for me everywhere and I was late for dinner.
I start sprinting and asking which way to go, but he just looks at me dumbfounded. "Did I do something wrong?" I ask.
"No, madam, it's just that you're running through the halls," he says.
Maybe that was a rule. "Oh…sorry," I slow down and walk alongside him through the confusing hallways. I try to start up a conversation to make things less awkward but he doesn't really know how to respond, making it even more awkward for me. Once he reaches a door he opens it and says, "The dining room, Madam."
"Wait, shouldn't I be in the kitchen?" I ask.
"No, madam," he opens the door wider and places a hand on my back so that I walk forward. Once I enter the dining room, he closes the door behind me. In front of me is a giant room of marble filled with extravagant designs and pictures. There's a large mahogany table that stretches so far it could fit maybe fifty people easily. In the far corner is my mother and father sitting with their backs straight and talking. I take a few steps forward and suddenly remember I left my shoes in my room and I'm barefoot. I sprint towards the table to cover my feet and try to maneuver so that I don't draw attention to them as I cross the large distance between my parents to where another plate is waiting.
I sit down quickly and instantly try to stretch the skirt of my dress to cover my feet. My father looks over at me and says, "Getting lost are we?" He laughs and I laugh too reminded a little of Mother Gothel.
"Yes," I say with a smile. "Sorry."
"No trouble at all," my mother says as a plate of food is put in front of her. Another is placed in front of me. "So, how did you find the palace?"
"It's big," I say unsure of how else to describe it.
"Yes, a man can get lost in this place very easily," he says with a comforting smile. "You know, you didn't tell us much about where you grew up. A tower on its own is an interesting place."
"Yeah. I didn't think much of it until I came here. Everyone's houses are so low to the ground," I say just before I realize how stupid I must sound.
"What happened to your shoes?" my mother suddenly asks.
I freeze and now that I know my efforts to conceal it have been in vain I say, "I forgot them in the room."
"You didn't like them?" she asks. He expression makes me nervous.
"No, I did, it's just. I'm not really used to walking in shoes. I used to go barefoot everywhere. It's not that I don't like shoes, I liked the shoes it's just that they were funny to walk in," I probably sound like an idiot. I think I should eat something before I say anything else. My mother doesn't respond. I look down at the food and see a sort of fish, I'm used to fish, potatoes and something else that I've never seen before in my life. It's an odd green color but it isn't basil or spinach or anything like that. I try the fish and it's delicious, nothing like Mother Gothel used to make. The potatoes are better and even the stuff I've never seen before is delicious. Before I know it, I have a mouth full of food and my elbows are on the table while I slouch over. I knew table manners, but I usually got away with ignoring them. I felt embarrassed not having them now and instantly corrected myself.
My parents were quiet for a few moments and so was I. I think we were each waiting for the other to start a conversation. My father, who I am quickly learning is the more lay-back one, starts the conversation. I realize his speech is a little more informal than my mother as he says, "So, this Eugene boy. How long have you known him?"
"About three days," I say. "He's a real nice boy. Without him, I never would have met you two. I think I said that already."
"Yes, not to worry. What does he do?" my father asked.
I giggle a little nervously not exactly sure how to respond. "He's…um…well I'm not really…"
My mother is already rescuing me and saying as I stutter, "It doesn't matter now does it? We need to make our acquaintance with this young man before you can start interrogating. I wonder what's taking that affair so long."
I don't even know how I'm going to approach that confession about Eugene when it comes, and I know it will eventually come. My father asks me about what I used to paint and I said that I used to do murals on the walls of basically me and designs. I feel a little self-absorbed admitting that. He starts talking about an artist I've never heard of and referencing to other artists styles to the point that I can't understand much, but two minutes in he notices my blank expression and moves on to another subject. I listen to him and soak in every word, but I feel separated from my mother and my father by this table. It's so tall and the corners are so jagged. We have to be at least a yard away from each other judging by the spacing and I can't help but long to sit by a fireplace, sit on a stool and talk like that. Here, I just feel very distant. He had been talking about music on a piano for a long while now.
"-I planned to teach you all sorts of classical music on the piano not even a day after you were born. There are so many beautiful symphonies can be played on that grand instrument."
"Did you ever learn how to play a guitar?" I ask glad to find another common interest.
"Why no. No I didn't. One of my least favorite instruments to play, as a matter of fact. It always seemed like a great deal of patients was needed to work with that device," he says. I'm immediately disheartened and I think I'll just trigger another awkward silence if I say I play the guitar.
"The villagers played a lot of good music on it," I say quickly.
"Yes, and I admire them for having that kind of time. It is a beautiful instrument once the right tune is played," he says. I have a chance to mention my guitar skills but there is still that chance of his response being an awkward "oh" and then quiet.
I decided to start it on something else. "So, Mother," the term seems so odd when I call someone other than Mother Gothel that. "What's your favorite book?" I ask really just digging for anything that I could relate to.
She shrugs and says, "I've always been a fan of De'Jeomati's work. He wrote the Trickster you know? A wonderful book, I think."
I'm lost again and when she asks me my favorite I tell her that Eugene and I had gone to the library earlier and I thought the book of maps of the world. I think I go on for a good half an hour about how fascinating I found all of the charts and trade routes. Maybe I'm boring them, but they seem to be keen on every detail. Next thing I know, my nervousness is gone and I'm talking about my entire day in the village with Eugene up until the floating lights. By that time, the three of us were laughing and smiling through dinner and I felt that much better.
Almost immediately after the plates are taken away, one of the waiters leans down and whispers in my mom's ear. Her expression turns serious and she nods following the waiter. I follow her and ask out loud, "Where's she going?"
My father smiles again and says, "She's probably going off to help Anita. She's one of our cooks. She's supposed to have a baby soon, but she insists on working. The only one that gets her out of there is the queen. She'll be a while. Well, it's already that late?" He looked up at a large grandfather clock that sat on the opposite side of the room. I hadn't noticed it until he mentioned the time. It was nearing midnight. "Would you like me to show you to your room, or do you think you know the way from here?"
"If you don't mind, I think it'd be safest if you took me there," I say.
He smiles and stands up from his seat when I do. Once we leave the dining room he asks me, "Are you fond of chess?"
I think that's another thing we can relate with and I nod happily, "Yes I used to play with my friend Pascal for hours."
"Pascal?"
"He's a chameleon that I've had around for years."
"A pet?"
"Well, more than a pet. He's a great friend and listener," I catch his blank expression. "I probably sound a bit crazy, but honestly, he has his own little personality and is a great protector."
My father didn't look as blank this time, but he says, "Your mother loves animals as well. I've always been limited to dogs, but she keeps telling me every animal has a persona. I'll have to meet this Pascal sometime."
"I'll make sure of it," I say.
"After I meet that Eugene," he says with a wink and then laughs. I laugh too a little out of nerves and also because it was kind of funny. He stops at a door and says with a smile, "Goodnight…Rapunzel."
"Goodnight," I say with a nod. This all is very strange to me. I open the door and retreat inside. When I walk in, the fireplace in the edge of the room is lit and waiting on my bed is a purple nightgown. I squeal in excitement seeing the fine fabric and the beautiful design. I can't believe someone could make this in just a few hours. When I examine it, I realize the craftsmanship is far better than mine. I gladly change into the gown and fold up my old one placing it by the foot of the bed, next to the shoes. I walk over to the window and there are people making their way home and closing up shops. If the buildings aren't asleep they're in the process of going to sleep.
I turn away from the window and move towards the bed. When I lie down, I find that I can't sleep. Everything's so strange from the size, to the decoration, to the smells of this place. Everything here is odd. My mother was wearing a purple dress, but that was the only purple thing (besides the fabric samples) that I had seen in the entire palace. I realize that I've been tip toeing my way through everything today. Why did I do that?
There's suddenly a tapping at the widow. I launch into the upright position and look towards the window. I see a figure standing by it and I almost scream. The only thing that keeps me from screaming is that I recognize the figure even in the dim light. "Eugene?"
I get out of the bed and walk towards the window. He waves and points down. I follow where he's pointing and I see a latch. It's simple enough to unlock and when I open it, only a small segment, instead of the entire window opens. Eugene easily slips through the narrow passageway.
"Hey Rapunzel, what'd I miss?" he says with a cocky grin.
"What are you doing here, Eugene? That was dangerous," I say poking my head out the window to look at the steep drop of the singles on the roof.
"I've done it plenty of times before," he says smiling. "Besides, if you want to talk about danger, how'd it go with your parents?"
"I…where's Pascal?" I ask.
"I left him with Maximus, the frog has a fear of heights," Eugene says.
"Why didn't you come in with us this morning?" I ask as I close the window
"They didn't let me in. Said something about you only so I just hung around," Eugene says. "Now, how'd it go with your parents? You didn't tell them about your hair."
"I know, I didn't tell them about any of that. I don't know if I should."
"Why not?"
"I don't know…they sort of…expected me to be a smiling happy girl. And I am happy, but it's only been a day, Eugene. I mean, I guess I should tell them, but…" I trail off knowing I'll sound crazy. I sit down at the edge of the bed and stare at the fire.
"But…" he urges me on.
"But, I don't feel safe saying that kind of thing. This place is nothing like home - I mean the tower. This place is beautiful and nice, but it's all so big and complicated. I lived where everything was compact and comfortable. Here it's empty. And…and I don't know about my parents. They're nice, but it's just weird. I talked to them at dinner and I felt like I had to keep entertaining them. If it got quiet, I got scared. They're nothing like Mother - I mean Gothel."
"That's bad?" Eugene said unbelieving.
"Well, you didn't know her before yesterday. I mean, she raised me. She took care of me and I know she kidnapped me and I know she was using me, but I didn't know that before all of this. I just thought she was my mother only a few hours ago. You can't just take an image of someone you've known forever and change it in a snap. I mean…I know it's terrible, but I think I miss her and all I've been able to think about when walking around my parents is what she'd do. They think she's a horrible person and I should to, but…I don't know. All of this is so weird. I don't know much about my parents. They were giving me shoes and toys from a thousand years ago and this room. It's big and beautiful, but it's just. My parents have all of these things planned out for me and none of them are what I know."
Eugene puts a comforting arm around me and grabs my arm, pulling me towards him. "So your parents and you are having a hard time adjusting. Did you expect any different? It's not like they know every little detail about you. Heck, I don't even. You did tell them something about you, right?"
"Just hobbies, but I think we have some things in common, I'm not sure. I'm sort of afraid that they won't like me."
"Are you kidding, Rapunzel? Of course they won't like you," he said with a devilish grin. I flick my eyes up towards him almost panicked. "They'll love you, probably a little more than me, if that's possible. You are their daughter. And, I may not be very savvy when it comes to the 'parent' thing, but I figured that when you have a kid, they're perfect no matter how they turned out."
"But, what if they don't like what I think about things? My mom showed me a doll from when I was a baby and said I loved it," I realize that my voice is cracking. I'm not crying but I'm emotional.
"Do you still love it now?"
"I creeps me out."
Eugene laughs a little at my confession. "Then you tell her it does and get an exorcist to destroy the doll," he jokes. "They're probably acting funny around you too. Hey, it's only been day one. Wait maybe a week and the three of you will get used to each other."
"How is it that you know so much?" I ask.
"New kids were always loaded into the orphanage. They'd try to make a good impression for a week before and they'd be cry-babies at night, but they got around to acting like their regular selves soon enough. Kind of moving out of one life and finding a place in another. We all ended up liking each other. I figure with family, it's gotta be even better," Eugene says with a shrug.
"You sure?" I ask.
"Yeah, how can they not love you? It's all going to work out. I mean, everything's just happened. The first day you left that tower you were freaking out about your mother who turned out to be a crazy old lady. In a few days, your new mother is going to be the crazy old lady in your life again," he said trying to make me laugh. I did.
"I hope it all works out."
"It will," he said. "Everything always works out."
"I'm glad you feel that way because, you're going to meet my father officially tomorrow."
That last line makes me cringe. I just had to get this out of my system or I think I would have gone mad. Okay, thanks for your time and send a review if you want.