Tzipi maneuvered her carry-on and washed at the sink too, noticing the flight attendant’s name on her bronze tag: a nice, pronounceable Anita. Amazing how two names, both with three syllables, could be so vastly different.
Amazing how two sisters, born just three minutes apart, could be given such vastly different names, too. Kara never had these problems. Well, maybe there were different reasons these days why no one would ever get her name wrong.
“Tzipora was Moses’ wife, right?” the flight attendant asked, leaning over the sink and carefully rolling a mascara wand over her lashes.
“In the Torah, yes. Me, though? I’m single,” Tzipi joked.
She’d perfected the comic routine in college, even though it was only part of the story now. Easier than explaining she had been engaged, but was now…widow-adjacent?
Easier than explaining Lorne.
Her groom, not just late to the chuppah, but forever more would just be known as…late?
“Passenger T. Solokoff, please report to B24.”
This time, they had at least gotten her last name right.
Although Sololoft was admittedly kind of catchy. And Tzipi did live in one of the North Hollywood Arts District’s industrial converted buildings now. Alone.
She tried not to dwell on that as she hoofed through the concourse, up a ramp and to the desk at the gate. “You paged me?”
“Are you…zit –”
“Tzipora. It’s like the sound in ‘pizza.’ Solokoff. Yes.”
“Sorry.” The gate attendant was sheepish. “Good news, though. You’ve been upgraded to first class.” With a flourish, the guy printed up a new boarding pass and handed it over. “Congrats.”
Kara.
Her sister was always doing things like this. Not-so-random acts of kindness. Or maybe she had gotten tired of Tzipi blowing up her phone with gripes about the first leg of the trip, wedged in cattle class for almost five hours.
Flying cross-country right before the holidays, last minute, wasn’t exactly budget-conscious, but she’d refused help – Kara was already doing so much for her. They were staying in a swanky hotel suite and having a spa day on Kara’s dime. Plus Tzipi had finally agreed to join her sister on the Matzo Baller – Kara’s treat – and that ticket wasn’t exactly easy or cheap to come by.
A booze-and-schmooze Hanukkah cruise wasn’t exactly Tzipi’s speed, but Kara never missed it and if it meant they got more quality sister time in…
Surprise!
You didn’t have to do that, it’s only two more hours.
If you had let me do it in the first place, you would’ve flown nonstop.
They had been over this before. Tzipi already felt like enough of a charity case this holiday. And if anyone knew anything about charities, it was her.
Karmit…
If texts could have a warning voice, it would use the birth name her sister eschewed, the one that conjured every Kermit the Frog joke she’d endured growing up. “Hey, Karmit…catch any flies lately? Where’s your banjo?”
Tizzy…
Her sister retaliated with a nickname only she was allowed to use.
The non-profit sector actually pays me pretty well.
I’ve seen your salary listed on GuideStar, so let’s agree to disagree.
Up came a photo of Kara, tongue curled in a hot dog roll, her eyes crossed. If anyone were to look over Tzipi’s shoulder and spy the image on her phone, they’d think it was some sort of photoshop job.
Surely the A-list actress who currently graced the covers of at least five magazines in the airport news kiosk was not acting this juvenile?
