2019-07-06 - Got Any Babka?

"English. English is better. Means the person on the phone won't get all confused." Minerva mutters to her father who has been grumping about the new set up for most of the day. The raven haired woman sticks out given her looks, but she's behind the counter trying to see if rearranging the wires might help while her father handles customers. "Maybe that'll do it." she straightens up and turns on the machine.

At last, finally, and it's about frickin' time, someone tipped off Itzhak to the existence of this place. He saunters in, damp, his black curly hair dewed with raindrops. As soon as he steps inside he stops dead, takes a deeeeep breath, and smiles. And then there's Yiddish! Itzhak lights right up. He addresses the woman and the old man in that language. "Hey! <<Are you having trouble with something?>>"

The register makes a little 'chime' noise as it comes on. But when Itzhak comes in, Minerva's gaze goes to the door and there's a smile, "Hi!" she waves. Though it takes her a moment with the Yiddish, "Oh, he ordered a new register system and now he hates it." she chuckles. "Just need to make sure it's wired right, but that's not my specialty." she admits.

Her father however gives a smile and speaks in Yiddish, <<Welcome! We've never seen you before, come in, come in.>> he motions for him to come and have a seat at the counter. "Are you new to town?" he asks him.

Itzhak speaks Yiddish with the speed of a native. Like he just stepped out of Manhattan he sounds. "Hi," he says to Minerva, his smile on the edge of bashful. "Yeah, I'm new in town. Moved out here from the Lower East Side a month or so ago. I can take a look at that for ya." He gladly comes up to the counter but doesn't actually sit, leaning over to peer at the register system.

"I'm still learning Yiddish. I can get through conversations, but they thought teaching me later would be good." Minerva chuckles to that as she gives Itzhak a smile. "We have family in New York. I think everyone does that's Jewish." she admits with a smile. When he peers over at the reister system, he can see that there's two wires that are connected wrong. Easy fix. "I'm not much of a fixer." she tells him quietly.

But dad, oh man. He speaks like he's just making a new friend. "Welcome to Gray Harbor. I'm glad we're a getting to meet you. What's your name?" he asks him as he sets about doing stuff behind the counter. They are at least friendly!

"Most everybody does." Itzhak reddens a little around the ears as Minerva smiles at him, but he smiles back at her gamely. "It's yer lucky day. Fixin's what I do." He reaches over--his arms are long, he's tall--and switches the wires with a swift pluck and push. Bleep! "Oughta do 'er." Totally after the fact, he adds his name! "Uh, yeah, I'm Itzhak."

Minerva gives another smile as he approaches where she's working on the register. "Oh if you are someone that fixes things my father will never let you get out the door." she chuckles. Then there's a look as the register starts working correctly, "Well, you're a lifesaver, thank you." she looks to him as she reaches out to straighten the wires, brushing his hand if it's still back there. "Itzhak, I like that. I'm Irvriya, but most everyone calls me Minerva due to...not being able to pronounce my first name." she muses. "And this is my father, Aharon Kosimar. My mother is Batya, but she's away at the moment. So I'm helping around here." she tells him.

"Good t'meet ya, Irvriya." Itzhak might be showing off by pronouncing her name correctly. "That's a beautiful name. Mr. Kosimar, how ya doin'?" Oh no, Minerva touched his hand. It's a hand that looks like it's done a lot in life--and there's letters in faded blue tattooed on the knuckles. Stay on one hand, Down on the other. Itzhak reddens a tiny bit more. "Hey, I mean, you make babka? I'll fix anything you want."

Minerva smiles when he actually gets her name right. A bit of a blush over that, "Thank you. Mom takes all the credit for it." she chuckles. She knows what prison ink is, but it doesn't seem to bother her. "And yes, Babka is made here. They also make Rugelach which is one of my favorites. Basically if you want it, it can be made if it's not already in the shop." she smiles to him.

Meanwhile Aharon is over there watching and he gives a smile, "Oh I'm fine, Itzhak. Just fine. We can pack you up some babka and whatever else you like. My son is not a fixer of things and he's mostly in Florida for business." he chuckles. "No charge of course since you helped today." he smiles.

Itzhak hesitates, obviously debating with himself. "Ahh, I couldn't, fixing that didn't take no effort." Ritual protest: officially lodged. He looks at Minerva, curious about her eyepatch, curious about her entire look, but not asking anything, for now. "You don't usually work here?"

Aharon gives a wave of his hand, "I insist, I'll go pack them up." he tells them. Then the older man is heading for the back with a smaller white box. Oh dear.

Minerva meanwhile gives a look to Itzhak, "Yeah, they don't take no as a real answer when it comes to food and sending it off with people." she chuckles. "And thank you for the help. It's appreciated." she adds. Then there's a smile, "I help out here on my days off. I work for with the social workers office when they have weird cases. And if you aren't from around here, you'll realize real quick what I mean by weird." she tells him quietly.

Itzhak leans his elbows on the counter, and tips his head and one shoulder in a wry shrug. "Eh, what am I gonna do, not take babka?" He flashes a lopsided grin at her, but it fades. "Yeah, I ain't been here too long, but..." Itzhak glances around, real quick, real casual, like he's just checking if it's still raining. "Seen some shit."

"Would you like a coffee or anything?" Min asks him as she leans a little on the counter. "I think my father likes to carry on my grandparents tradition of 'no one leaves hungry'." she chuckles. Then she looks to him and she sobers, "I've lived her all of my life and I can say that there are some good days, but it gets really weird. Sometimes violently so." she admits. "What did you see?" she asks him.

Itzhak grimaces. He finally settles on the seat like a nervous bird finding a perch. "Yeah, coffee would be great, thanks." Running a hand through his hair, he doesn't answer immediately, instead watching Minerva closely, his eyes tracking her. "I dunno. It's fucked up."

Minerva gets him a coffee while he finally settles into a seat, "That's no problem." she tells him. Then she brings the cup and saucer back over and settles it down in front of him. "If you don't want to talk about it you don't have to. Could talk about it another time if you'd like." she offers with a smile. "I know it can sometimes be overwhelming." she states.

Itzhak fidgets with the cup, turning it around on the saucer. His expression is tense and wary; he drops his gaze to the reflection of the coffee. "Yeah. Maybe another time." That's the look of someone still processing. "Listen, though." Itzhak looks back up. "New York, I didn't see any of this mishegoss. Here? I see it everywhere. I used to never hear anybody else with what I got. Now I hear 'em all the time. Met a dozen people with that thing singing in 'em." His voice is hushed. "...Do I sound crazy?"

"Next time then." Minerva tells him as she leans on the counter a bit more. There's cream and sugar there if he likes his coffee a bit more sweet than just plain black. When he talks about things singing in people, there's a moment she worries her bottom lip. "You don't sound crazy at all. You sound like you're sane." she admits. "You'll find that a lot of people can do weird things here." she tells him in a soft tone. "My mother and father don't have any weirdness though." she adds with a smile.

"I can do weird things too." Itzhak's eyebrows are tilted up in a way that gives him an oddly pleading look. "Can you?" Then he almost smiles again. "Ma and Pop don't know? Or do they know, but, they just can't do it."

Minerva gives him a look and there's a bit of a smile, "I can do things as well. Every since I was real young." she nods to that. "Mom and Pop know, but they didn't get the golden ticket to weirdsville. I'm glad about that. My brother is...on the fence. I think he can do things, but he's never talked about it since the incident when I was little." she frowns. "Do you want a list of the creepy places to avoid in town?" she asks him with a smile.

Itzhak gets a funny expression. 'Incident.' "Okay." He nods, half to himself. "Been a few years for me. I was in one of those places the other day. The Murray house, they called it." Itzhak shudders, goosebumps rising suddenly all over him. He rubs the back of his neck. "Ain't never seen anything so awful."

"Oh. The Murray House, definitely not a place to start with the weirdness." Minerva tells him with a shake of her head. "I heard that girl went missing. Told them to look back at the old case where another Townie went missing and they found them their. But I just got the crazy look." she points out. "As for the incident when I was a child, it's how I lost my left eye." she shrugs. "The voices lessened after that, but, power didn't." she frowns. "So you've only been in town a few weeks? What brought you to Gray Harbor?" she asks.

Itzhak laughs on a breath, an edge to it. "Not where I woulda picked to start, nope. Uhm. The girl's okay. ...She's not okay, but she's alive and she ain't missing any parts, poor mameleh." He glances at Minerva's eyepatch. "I got a niece about her age. Ah," he's taken a little by surprise by the question, "I'm, I...I bought an old garage out here, maybe you know it, Steelhead? Tryin' to get it back in business."

Minerva gives a look to him, "I'm glad she's alright. I got a call from the police telling me that they gave my number to the parents, so I'll see her when they think her healing mentally needs to begin." she tells him with a smile. Then she leans on her elbows and puts her chin in her hand as she looks at him, "Now, my parents tell me it's rude to pry, so I try not to if it's illegal or going to get me murdered. But that definitely sounded like you're saying something that you don't mean. And I like at least ninety five percent honesty." she grins at him.

Itzhak, called out, actually blushes. He scowls at Minerva, but his heart isn't in it, and it dissolves into something weary. "Well, if that's the case," he mutters, very quiet, not wanting to risk Dad hearing him, "you shouldn't pry. You're a lovely lady. I wouldn't want..." he sighs and rubs his forehead. "Wouldn't want you to get mixed up in anything. Anyway, that's at least, ehhhh, eighty five percent honest." He offers her a wry lopsided half-smile.

"You know that calling people out thing doesn't really go over well with most guys, so kudos on not yelling at me." Minerva states with a bit of a grin. "I'm a lovely lady who is over twenty nine and has had rougher clients show up at her door." she adds. "I'll make an exception and take eighty five percent though." she tells him. "Either way, if you need something and don't mind calling people, I can give you my cell number. If you'd like to meet up for coffee or to talk or something." she offers as she grabs a piece of paper and a pen.

Itzhak snorts, shaking his head. "Hey, I know which side my challah's buttered on. I yell at you, I don't get babka." But he's still red across the proud bridge of his crooked nose. "...Okay. Yeah, uh, I'd like that...I'd like that." He almost says it as a question like he's not sure himself, but firms it up on the second try. "Can I still call you Irvriya?"

Minerva lifts her hand to her chest and sniffs faintly, "Do I look like a monster that would deny someone their babka?" she chuckles. "Of course not, I'd tell my dad that I did something that got me yelled at and he'd shake his head at me." she admits. She then writes her number down on the paper, "I keep weird hours, so don't feel bad about calling or texting me if the mood strikes." she tells him as she finishes the number writing and adds something else. Then she hands it over to him as she looks to him, "You can call me Irvriya, yes." she tells him with a warm smile.

About that time Aharon can be heard heading back to the front. "I packed you a little bit of everything. On the house." he tells Itzhak as he puts the box on the counter.

"I can't promise I'll never yell at you," Itzhak says, with that wry twist to his mouth, "I'm well known for bein' a prick. Pardon my French." He takes the paper, folds it and tucks it into a pocket of his jeans like he's afraid to look at it. "Thanks, though. Thanks." Then Aharon comes bustling back and Itzhak can't help it; he laughs and says, "Oh, no. That's too much, c'mon."

"That's a fair thing." Minerva tells him with a smile. "And it's alright. Don't need to be handled with kidgloves all the time." she tells him. "You're welcome. I'm happy to meet new people and I think you might be my dads new best friend." she grins.

Aharon is all smiles, "It's not too much. If we have something that needs fixed next time we'll pay cash." the man tells him with a grin.

Itzhak draws in a breath to argue, laughs again and shakes his head. "All right, all right already." He asks for the pen with a flick of his fingers, writes down his own number and name. "I'll fix anything you got. Point of sale, lights, ovens, whatever. It breaks, I fix it." He slides the paper over. "Glad I found youse guys. Feels like home." And he feels like a guy who's homesick.

Minerva gives the pen over and there's a smile to him. Then she looks to her dad, who looks like he might be ready to adopt Itzhak. Though she gives a look back to Itzhak, "We'll be sure to remember it." she tells him with a smile. "Because things break a lot in old businesses." she shakes her head.

"Thank you for fixing the register and if you'd like to come to dinner or a gathering sometime, just get a hold of Irvriya." Aharon states with a smile. "I'm going to go start closing up. It was nice to meet you, Itzhak." he gives him a wave and toddles back to the back.

"Yeah, you too, Mr. Kosmiar." For all Itzhak's claims of being a prick, he's still calling the guy old enough to be his own father Mister. "I'll get outta ya hair, huh?" He stands. He's tall. Minerva's tall for a woman, and he's several inches over her. "Thanks for uh, you know." He takes the box, and flips his other hand over in the classic 'you know' gesture.

Minerva gives a look to her father as he heads off and then she turns to look back at Itzhak and she starts around the counter so she can get the door. "I don't think he minds and I certainly didn't mind." she smiles to him. She gives a finger wiggle of a wave to him, "We'll see you around and remember call or text if you like." she grins at him. "Be safe, please." she adds as she holds the door.

Itzhak whooshes out a breath. "Can't promise that, neither." But he tips Minerva an ironic salute in return for her wave, and heads on out.