Separated @ Birth: A True Love Story of Twin Sisters Reunited by Anais Bordier, Samantha Futerman Read Free Book Online

true. She’s my twin.
    I jumped into the shower with just enough time to get ready for my first audition of the day. It was a dramatic part, and I had to be prepared to shed some tears in the third scene. After everything that had happened the day before, my emotions were free-flowing, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Besides, I had a lot of energy that needed to be released. Sometimes, as an actor, you just have to take all the crazy energy and use it.
    I truly was an aspiring actress in L.A. Part of me was really uncomfortable and annoyed with how seriously other actors took their “craft” and lifestyle. But the other part of me secretly enjoyed it, even if it was just because I got to make fun of it. People in L.A. could be so insanely pretentious—hiking in the hills around the city with full makeup and short monologues tucked into their yoga pants; green juice refrigerators in organic clothing stores; vegan/gluten-free substitutes available at every restaurant; and community tables at Starbucks packed with skinny vanilla latte–drinkers reading screenplays on their open laptops. These were not stereotypes, they were fact. I didn’t mind it, because I had made some great friends in Los Angeles, and I was pursuing my dream. And for the record, I have never hiked with full makeup and audition lines tucked into my yoga pants, and if I ever do, punch me in the face.
    I climbed into my car and headed for the audition, alternating my memorized lines and my twin’s face/my face/mytwin’s face in my head. When I got to the casting office, I ran up the stairs to the audition waiting area and took a seat. No sooner was the audition over than I headed home to prepare for my next audition. For this one, I had to change my hair, makeup, and wardrobe to look older. When I was ready, I drove toward Santa Monica, again mixing the lines I had memorized with thoughts of the French girl and what I would say the next time we communicated. Should I “poke” her? Is there a three-day rule, like with boys? The ball was in my court. The audition in Santa Monica went well, but I wouldn’t hear for a few days.
    I wasn’t obsessing over the auditions. I just wanted to sit behind the wheel, listen to music, get home, get into bed, and stalk Anaïs on Facebook. No sooner had I turned on my phone when up popped a message from Anaïs. Weird, she was already reading my mind.
    “Hey Sam, how are you?” it read. “Hope everything is fine! I’ve seen some pictures of your premiere, you were super pretty! Can’t wait to see the film now, haha! I’m going back to Paris tomorrow for the weekend for my mum’s birthday. I’ll try and find a few more documents, but my mum scanned pretty much everything already of what I’ve sent you.” A few seconds later another message that included her Skype name popped up. “Whenever you want a little Skype session HAHAHA.”
    Ha ha ha, ugh! I wasn’t sure I was ready to Skype yet. Time to drive home in traffic, which was the perfect excuse not to message her back immediately. I had to think this all through. I called Eileen to talk about how the audition had gone, but we talked about Anaïs instead. When I told her that Anaïs and I might Skype, she told me to hold off, to give it the weekend. She wanted to talk to some people first. Icould tell she was already angling to control the story, with my best interest in mind, of course.
    I actually felt a little relieved that I could postpone the Skype session with Anaïs, not sure if I was ready. Back home, my friends had all sorts of opinions about the inevitable Skype call. The consensus was that I should do it, and I should tape it. At first, it sounded like a great idea. But the more I thought about, the more I felt as though it would be exploitive for both Anaïs and me. This was very private, and it was really only about the two of us. Why was I waiting to talk to her? Why was I letting other people weigh in? She was my twin! Not anybody else’s!