She held up the first long hank for him to inspect.
“Let’s get you back,” he murmured.
“Catching the class guinea pig with pizza in the school cafeteria?”
“Um…that was Kara.”
Tzipi sat cross-legged between his knees, her head bent as he carefully opened another hair bead with his smallest pair of needle nose pliers. Allowing herself to be quizzed on the most memorable Room to Bloom moments.
“Damn, I should’ve known. How about the broken arm episode?”
“All me. Not a prop. Ouch.” As slow and gentle as Jonah was going, he hit a stubborn clamp every now and then.
“Sorry.” He kissed the top of her head and handed her another hunk of hair. She clutched them like the weirdest bouquet. “What happened?”
“Skateboarding on the studio lot with my Bloom brothers. Including Bobby.” She growled. “I’d really like to snap his crayon in half.”
Ugh, that fucking guy. Change of topic.
“Lightening round: How about the Hanukkah one, with the purple bike?”
“When Kreplach fell into the packing peanuts?” She laughed at the memory. “You wouldn’t believe how many takes that damn cat needed.”
“Ah, the real diva!” Jonah joked.
“That episode was both me and Kara, actually. We were still pretty young.”
Another soft click as a microbead gave way, its extension sliding free.
“The Bat Mitzvah episode was all you, though. That was my ultimate favorite.”
“Mine, too!” She exclaimed, turning to face him. “How did you know I carried that one? Kara had mono, by the way. That was the only reason. I was the rookie being sent in last minute to replace the injured star player.”
She tilted her head for him once more. Jonah ran his fingers up her bare neck and into her short locks, feeling for any hidden holdout beads. He loved that she shivered and rubbed back against his hand to meet it, like a cat.
“You were no rookie. And that episode had Ewing Theory written all over it.”
He reached into the toolbox by his side, rummaging for a pair of pliers with a slightly better grip. “It’s the phenomenon,” he explained like his own basketball coach had, “when a team plays inexplicably better after a so-called star is out for the season. Everyone stepped up. That L’dor Vador scene? Gets me every time.”
“Everyone gets choked up during l’dor vador,” she insisted, tilting her head under the guidance of his hand. “Seeing grandparents passing a Torah to their children, who then pass it to their kid? The actress playing Bubbe Bloom wasn’t even Jewish and she nailed it.”
“The show won a Primetime Emmy that year, right?”
“No, just nominated. But we did win a Kid’s Choice Award that season. Anyway, how did you know I was the Bat Mitzvah?”
“You still bite your lip like that when you mess up, it’s your tell.”
“Good thing there wasn’t a poker episode,” she joked. “Hold on – mess up? I aced that parashah, mister.”
“Nope, I had the same Torah portion. You stumbled during the shalshelet. It’s okay though, I did, too. It was a bitch of a trope.” He plunked two more beads into the small bowl in her lap.
“I had a week to learn my lines!”
Again, she turned. Strands of long hair coming lose between his fingers as she pulled back to regard him. “What’s your excuse?”
“Wait, that was fake? What kind of sadist scripts the worst part of Leviticus?” he demanded.
“Probably the same one who invented hair extensions.”
