“Was he the set medic?” Tzipi remembered some sort of EMT always on the Room to Bloom set in the event something happened, but nothing ever had.
“No, but they’d needed a medical consultant for that scene, since it was supposed to be a pediatric mass casualty incident. God, he was so hot,” she gushed.
Tzipi couldn’t hold in her giggle; her sister thirsting over her fiancé in that moment of make-believe peril, all through the mouth slit of what looked like a glow-in-the-dark Luchador mask. The oversized eye holes kept shifting as her brows moved to match her enthusiasm.
“What’s so funny?”
“You look like the ghost of Nacho Libre in that thing.”
“Well, I’m looking in a mirror then,” her sister shot back, giving Tzipi a little kick to the shin with her pedicure flipflop.
Tzipi supposed it was true, in her matching cold and clammy mask that smelled faintly of grass clippings in the morning dew.
“And don’t knock the chlorophyll and snail mucin combo, it’s very restorative.”
“Snail what?” If a trail of snail snot was her sister’s beauty secret this whole time, she was going to throw a jade roller at her towel-turbaned head.
Kara laughed. “It’s filtered. But really, who would’ve thought all those snails we let crawl up our arms in Dad’s gardens would be the next skincare trend?”
“And who would’ve thought you’d end up with an off-screen civilian, and I’d be the one falling for a fall guy?”
Lorne was probably considered “below the line” by most actors of Kara’s stature, but he had been way more than just a day-player in the industry. In stunt double circles, he was legendary. A versatile performer with a gift for incredible physical comedy and mind-blowing stunt work, never breaking his stone-faced expression. He’d reminded Tzipi of a modern-day Buster Keaton. Like from those old movies she used to watch with her mom back when she was trying to detox after Room to Bloom. Probably half the reason why she fell in love with him.
“You doing okay, though?” Kara’s soft-spoken query roused her from the memory. “Tizzy, I’m sorry I wasn’t there…that I haven’t been there for you more.”
The reality of it all made Tzipi lightheaded; the chlorophyll mask suddenly like chloroform, making her woozy. Luckily, their estheticians swooped back in to carefully peel off the sheets, massaging the remaining serum into their faces so they could move on to the next step in Operation Whatever-the-hell-had-possessed-her-to-agree-to-this.
“You’re always with me,” Tzipi reasoned, as they made their way back to the locker room to change. It was true. In her heart and her mind, the twin bond transcended distance and time.
She’d need that this weekend, even without Kara by her side. His birthday coming, whether she was ready or not.
And Lorne was always with her, too. In the cluster of wildflowers she had had inked on her shoulder blade by his favorite tattoo artist after the first anniversary – a chaotic bouquet that was like him, so unpredictable, so free. She’d wanted something alive, something that didn’t scream grief to anyone else. With one subtle forget-me-not blooming up from the center to honor his memory.
It was perfect.
“Ready for your time in the salon chair?”
Tzipi touched her short shaggy hair, held back with a bubble headband supplied by the spa. The moment of reckoning had come. The crowning glory that would make her as recognizable at a glance from all directions – and probably from outer space – as the Kara Koff.
And mistaken for her as well.
As she shed her spa robe to change back into her street clothes, an audible gasp emanated from Kara. Tzipi whipped around, just in time to see the turban tumble off her sister’s head, and gasped as well.
“What did you do?” they each exclaimed in unison.
“I can’t believe you got a tattoo and didn’t tell me!”
“It was just…”
It was certainly not just a whim. But not wholly planned either. Intensely personal, but not exactly a secret.
“…just something that slipped my mind in the moment. You were starting to film, we were on opposite schedules.” Her eyes roamed over her twin’s head. “I can’t believe you actually chopped all your hair off!”
Actually, she could believe it. Kara had never half-assed a role in her life. But still.
Her sister shrugged like losing seven inches of A-list Hollywood hair was no big deal. “You’re being me. So I should be you, no?”
While Tzipi was busy getting polished like the Tin Man in the merry old land of Oz, Kara must’ve snuck off to the salon chair. The resulting new look was stylishly sassy. An ash blonde pixie shag framed her sister’s face in a tousled, carefree way. Tzipi didn’t think her own hair ever looked that cute, but then again…Kara looked more like her at that moment than she looked like Kara.
