Separated @ Birth: A True Love Story of Twin Sisters Reunited (16 page)

The next morning, we all woke up early, so we could go see the Harry Potter studios, one of the absolute highlights of the trip. Everyone met at the train station, where we would catch the train to Watford Junction, twenty miles northwest
of London. Andrew was particularly excited about the studio tour, as a massive “Pothead” (the term for one obsessed with Harry Potter). He even has a tattoo on his leg that says, “RIP Dobby,” probably the thing that I am most proud of about my big brother. We had a blast that day. I have been on many sets in my life, but these were special. My sister was totally obsessed, too, and I imagined us being the Weasley twins, running around and playing jokes on everyone at Hogwarts.

We were back in London by late afternoon in time for the Bordiers to check out of their hotel and catch their train back to Paris. It was amazing to have two new “parents.” They hadn’t raised me, but they were a brand-new relationship to explore—one that was created just for me. I imagined it was the same for Anaïs and my own parents, something akin to having in-laws. And they all got along so well. Our parents had already been swapping pictures and e-mailing each other. With the love the Bordiers showed me, how could I not love them back? Plus, they had raised my sister and made her the person she is today.

Later that night, the young people all went to a club. Kelsang met us there. This was the first time I had met our matchmaker in person, although we had already been acquainted on Skype and through pictures. He really meant a lot to me. Without Kelsang, who knows when my sister might have seen me, if ever? We all danced and celebrated into the wee hours of the morning.

The next day was dedicated to more classic tourist attractions. Our first stop was the Tower of London. My favorite part of this tour was watching Anaïs aggressively grab a piece of chain mail from a little boy who was hogging it. It was in a hands-on display, and the boy had played with it too long, in Anaïs’s opinion. She wanted to feel it, too, and she
grabbed it from his hands. I called her out on it, and we all started cracking up. Sometimes it was very clear that my sister was (as in, used to be) an only child. Now she has my brothers and me to call her out. She had better get used to it.

Andrew left the next day. I was sad to see him go so soon. I didn’t know when I’d see him again. He had come to London having only one sister, and he left having two. By the end of his time in London, he and Anaïs were really hitting it off. There was a farewell dinner for my parents and Matt that night at an Indian restaurant, as they were leaving the following morning.

Once my family was all gone, Anaïs opened up about feeling abandoned by our birth mother. It was both sad to hear her feelings and comforting to know she trusted me with them. She confided that when she was a child, she often felt as though she had been abandoned. I had never been ripped apart by those kinds of feelings. The adoption never made me sad. I never thought of myself as being abandoned.

Maybe having brothers helped. I hadn’t had time to think about what happened after my birth. I was too focused on keeping Matt and Andrew out of my room and from “torturing” me, but that “torture” was really just a display of love, which engulfed me my entire childhood. Anaïs didn’t have the same brotherly distractions. She didn’t have siblings to love her like that. She had her imaginary friend, Anne, who couldn’t answer back. She felt as though her birth family hadn’t wanted her and was afraid to find them lest they reject her again. She also worried about what would happen when her parents passed away. “I would have no one,” she told me. She said she didn’t want to search for our birth mother. She would rather keep alive in her mind the slight possibility and fantasy that she had been sent away for something better.

I didn’t believe that we were given up for something better. The truth of the matter was, we had no idea why this happened to us. We could assume and think that it could have been this or that, but there is only one person, potentially two, who could tell us the truth. The circumstances must have been rough for the woman who gave us birth, and perhaps her intentions weren’t positive. Even if they weren’t, who is to say she’s the same person now that she was back then? If she’s anything like us, which I imagine she probably is, she is strong and has the ability to adapt to whatever circumstances come her way. And whatever the circumstances were at the time, she made her choice. Anaïs and I were meant to be split apart, and I didn’t hate our birth mother for that.

Anaïs and I didn’t have a lot of time left together before I headed back to L.A. Our last day consisted of a very special French dinner with both sets of our friends and an adventure up and around the London Eye, the huge Ferris wheel on the Thames. Even though Anaïs and I are pretty scared of heights, we decided to go for it. From the top, we could see the entire city. It was worth conquering our fear for—it turned out to be not that scary, once we were inside the pod. Our trip had begun with the fear of meeting each other, and we had dispelled it. Now we were ending this trip on a high note—literally. As human beings, we develop so much anxiety around intense situations, yet with someone we love, any fear is conquerable. I came to London having no idea whether or not Anaïs and I were related, and I left feeling like I had known her my entire life.

california, here i come!

Right after the fashion show, there were two weeks when I could fit in a visit with Sam in Los Angeles. I had to be back in London in mid-July to pack up the flat. From there, I would go to Paris for three days for a wedding and a job interview at Gerard Darel, a well-established Paris fashion house known for its “simple, chic, ultra-feminine style.” I had seen a posting for an internship and had applied, even though I wanted a full-time job. I was thrilled when I was invited to interview and hopeful that the internship would lead to something more permanent. From Paris, I was heading back to London for my graduation ceremony. Right now, I was just feeling really relieved. My studies were finished, the fashion show had gone extremely well, and Sam and I were madly in “twin sister” love.

The reviews of the fashion show had been unequivocal raves. It had gotten significant press coverage in fashion markets around the world, as it was considered the showcase of up-and-coming talent in the industry. The
Grazia Daily
said, “London’s deserved reputation for nurturing more ‘big new
things’ per square mile (or season!) than any other fashion hub in the world was again proven last night with the Central Saint Martins MA graduate show.”
Elle UK
said, “Seductive palettes of pink, explosive neons, and sedate, sculptural silhouettes were the order of the evening at a Central Saint Martins graduate fashion show that was as eclectic as it was accomplished—eclectic in the best way.” I couldn’t help but be proud to have been part of it. But nothing could trump how happy I was to have met Sam and to have bonded with her so profoundly.

I really hoped that we could spend some time alone on this trip. In London, she had been with her family, her friends, and the documentary crew, and I had been with my family and friends, too. But all the extra people detracted from our chance to be intimate as sisters. We were already extremely close, especially considering that we had never even heard of each other a few months earlier. The Internet, Skype, and smartphones allowed us to fall asleep in each other’s virtual arms, which was better than nothing. But because we had been denied a childhood together, I wanted to have Sam to myself. When there were too many people around, I sometimes felt like we were a sideshow, with everyone fluctuating between outright gawking and playful peeking, wondering how we were going to act. They wanted to witness our first embrace, our first misunderstanding, and our first argument, maybe our first fight. It was inevitable—even identical twins have fights. But, I didn’t want every one of our “firsts” to be spectator events. In L.A., I was hoping there would be opportunities for just the two of us to have some fun.

Seeing Sam on her own turf was going to be interesting. London had been a fairly neutral city for our first reunion:
both of our families had to travel to get there, British English was kind of a foreign language for everybody, and both our groups had equal footing when it came to food—French and American food is better than British! Now, though, I would be able to see Sam on her territory and provide her with an appropriate backdrop. I would soon see the restaurant where she worked and the bedroom from which she texted me while in her bed and under the covers. I would be experiencing her everyday life, which meant seeing her friends, her workplace, her chilling places, and her daily behavior. Would she have the same closeness with her friends as I do with mine? What did she do with them? How did she meet them? Would they behave in a sophisticated, grown-up way with one another, or would they be playful, with the fun kind of immaturity that only close friends feel safe doing?

My flight from London to California was direct, but it still took twelve hours. I left London Heathrow Airport at seven p.m. and landed at ten p.m. in Los Angeles, so even though it looked like three hours, the sun was already up in London, and it had just set here. Landing at night gave me incredible views of the city. From the sky, the city lights, which ended abruptly at the darkness of the Pacific Ocean, reminded me a lot of the Côte d’Azur near Cannes in the South of France. Here, though, there were many more square miles of twinkling, and the lights looked very organized, like in a grid. Now that we were in our approach to the airport, I was finally able to feel the relief that comes with a real vacation. I was getting the feeling down in my belly that I always get when I am about to touch the ground. You have reached your final destination, and you want to start running . . . especially when you know there is an identical twin waiting for you in the terminal!

Sam and her roommate, Lisa, both came to get me at the airport. Sam, who had come straight from work, brought us sushi from her restaurant, which we ate in the car. Thankfully, Lisa was the driver, so we didn’t have to worry about getting in an accident, as Sam and I were very animated to see each other on our second reunion. Ryan was there, too, filming away. Sam had let me know before I got here that she and Ryan had started dating. I had kind of suspected it by their flirtatious behavior during our early Skype calls and in London. I was happy for her, but it was weird to see my double flirting with someone else.

The cars in the United States were so big! I was already small enough, and I felt even smaller here, like in a distorted perspective. The roads were huge, too. I had been to the United States twice before, once when I was fifteen for a three-week exchange program in Norfolk, Virginia, and the second time just one year earlier. I had saved money from an internship with John Galliano in Paris, and I wanted to discover New York City. I also spent a week in Chicago to visit my friend Maxence.

I was quickly remembering what had impressed me so much the first two times—the driving! Although Americans tend to think of driving as an undesirable necessity, I love it. In the United States, even though you spent a lot of time driving, you could go anywhere. The world was huge and open. France had been built up for so many hundreds of years that every space was either occupied or cultivated, so it didn’t feel like this. In America, it felt as if the backgrounds kept changing and surprising me. It is such an appealing place for wanderlust. I have no idea of the distance in front of me, but who cares? I am on the road.

It felt so strange to be standing on another side of the
planet with Sam. We had always occupied the same planet, but we had not been in the same orbit until London. This was one of the fun parts of having a twin with a completely different experience than yours. I could explore L.A. and New York/New Jersey, her worlds, in her company, and she could be with me in my worlds, London and Paris. We were each other’s tour guides to some of the greatest cities in the world.

The day after I arrived, I woke up in Los Angeles. Sam’s apartment had a little balcony with an amazing view. Almost to make sure I knew where I was, the world-famous
HOLLYWOOD
sign was visible from the balcony. Yes, Anaïs, you are in Hollywood! The weather in Los Angeles was perfect, warm but not humid, the sun shining through and the feel of the heat on my skin.

The architecture of Los Angeles is unique. From on the hill outside the city, it looked like Disneyland-Paris. The whole city looked like a back lot of a cinema studio, although it was real. Everything is quite exotic, new, and modern, and built quite quickly. One day, I went driving around Beverly Hills with Kanoa. It was so interesting to see the big mansions with all the different styles of architecture mixed together. You could see a house with a Florentine top, and the bottom of the house would be built like a Parisian Hotel and mixed with Venetian details. It felt like I could read the social history of the first owners on the buildings themselves, telling me what part of Europe the families had come from originally.

We went to many of Sam’s favorite places to eat, some cafés, some brunch places, the restaurant where she worked. There was every kind of food in the world in Los Angeles, and it was all so good. It seemed like it had been grown under
the sun, especially when compared to the food in London, which was a bit heavy and starchy. It seemed like everything in L.A. was about health and the benefits for your body. I knew I was far from home when I ate things I had absolutely never heard of, let alone could pronounce. Sometimes, I’d have to ask someone, “Is this edible for real?” Lots of things looked like they were made of plastic to look realistic, like those platters of plastic food on display in London restaurant windows to be the example of what you could order. You’d think it was real food except the colors were too bright, and it was often a little dusty.

The sun and the heat of Southern California definitely put me in a different mood, too, like I was charging my batteries. There, people are outdoors all the time and it feels free. My sightlines were so extended that I feel like I could look far, far away. In a packed city like Paris, you see buildings and obstacles everywhere, making you feel a bit imprisoned in a way.

The lifestyle in L.A. is also so very different from most European cities. It is more spacious, and so people need more time to go from one place to the other, which in turn makes time feel like it is extended. I also feel a healthier distance from other people’s problems, away from their anxieties. Imagine a jam-packed place in London—Oxford Circus at four on a Saturday afternoon, for example, where everything goes so fast, and you bump into people, and by touching them, you catch their stress. L.A. isn’t like that. I could suddenly imagine Sam when she was driving during a Skype call—this scene was her backdrop, or this was where she was making a turn, or this was the red light she said was going on way too long. These points may not have been exactly the locations where Sam had been, but by being in her city and
community, it was easier for my imagination to tweak what I had previously pictured.

Sam made sure we covered all the tourist spots, which I adored. We visited Venice Beach, Hollywood Boulevard, and Disneyland. I went to see my first baseball game between the Los Angeles Angels and the Saint Louis Cardinals on the Fourth of July. It was fabulous. Sam and I bought complementing baseball caps, mine blue with a white
A
, and hers red with a blue
A
. We drank beer, ate hot dogs and cotton candy, and watched the fireworks that happened after the game on account of the Fourth of July, and not because of the Angels’ unbelievable win. Down five runs to two in the bottom of the ninth, they scored three runs and won!

We went to the beaches of Southern California, of course. In Malibu, where we ran on the beach and made a bonfire, I met a lot of Sam’s friends. Her friend Michael accidentally stepped into the fire pit, which was hard to see because of the layer of sand we had put on top of the hot coals. I felt so sorry for him, and for Sam, who was shouldering a lot of the blame. It is strange—when I look at Sam, I can feel what she is going through at the moment, without her speaking, in this case her agony about Michael. It comes from our body language, which is similar. It is like the secret language of twins. There’s an expression in French—
se mettre dans la peau
, “to put oneself in somebody else’s shoes”—that is this exact feeling. Your body reacts the same way the other person’s does, so you know how she feels. It was hard for me to see Sam so distressed about Michael. I was unhappy, too, because I knew I would have blamed myself the same way. It was also hard for me to find the arguments to make her feel better, because I knew that no one else’s argument would have made me feel better. But, on the other hand, when I saw
Sam stubbornly stuck on blaming herself, I had an opportunity to analyze my own behavior. I could step back and say, “Wow, that is what I do,” so next time, I could do it differently. For example, I could learn to be less hard on myself and let things go by watching Sam not do that, even though I would have done what Sam did if it happened to me first! Great therapy!

On some matters, I know Sam and I are different. But, when Sam is my mirror, I can see how I behave, and I can learn from that and try to change or do things another way. She’s my unwitting psychoanalyst as I try to solve my own problems. So, through poor Michael’s unfortunate injury and Sam feeling responsible, I had quite an enlightenment.

Venice Beach, another Pacific coast town we visited, was very interesting. The beach was large compared to the Côte d’Azur, and so was the Pacific compared to the Mediterranean. Space in California had a different vanishing point. Compared to the palm trees we had in the South of France, the palm trees here looked stretched out, so high and so thin. In California, you had space to grow taller and faster, and you still had space around you, so it looked like everything grew tall and fast without ever taking up too much room. During our visit, we ate at a great restaurant that served a Hawaiian dish called
poke
(POH-kay), bite-sized pieces of seasoned raw fish, extremely similar to Japanese sashimi. I loved it.

Observing the “double lives” of the people of Los Angeles was so much fun. It seemed everyone was an aspiring actor. Valets, bus staff, hostesses, cooks, and waiters were all reading and learning lines for auditions. Nobody was hiding it—they were in the hospitality industry only until they didn’t have to be anymore. It made for a very artistic mood and
feeling. There were lots of people in workout clothes, too, either coming from or going to a fitness center. That wasn’t really odd, either, because I knew looking fit and tanned was integral to a Hollywood career. Besides, lots of the athletic clothing featured designer labels, making it a true Southern California fashion statement.

Fashion and acting really do have a strong relationship. Models are short-term actors, and actors are short-term models. Without fashion and costume, cinema would be dull, and without theater and film, fashion would be substantially short an audience. Both industries push the edge of daring and creativity, so even though Sam and I had chosen different career paths, our choices were related. One of us liked to be in front of the camera, and the other behind it. Here in Hollywood, it was inspiring to see people living their passion.