Separated @ Birth: A True Love Story of Twin Sisters Reunited

by Anais Bordier

  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 mir
ror, 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.

  I loved the transparency of Sam’s double life. It was great to follow her throughout the day to discover her routine. She wakes up and goes to an early morning yoga class. Afterward, she does a lot of work on the documentary. Then it’s lunchtime, and at least while I was there, she eats something very healthy. After lunch into the early afternoon, she prepares for auditions. If she has them scheduled, she heads out to do her thing, hoping to land a role. Otherwise, she works ambitiously on her two projects—organizing the documentary and putting her thoughts on the computer for the book. Then, if she has a shift at work, she heads to her job at a restaurant in Beverly Hills. It’s a very attractive French-themed brasserie with a lot of framed posters of old French advertisements. The menu has a few traditional French dishes interspersed with Japanese cuisine—very delicious. Sam is such a hard worker. It was quite a crazy schedule to follow, and it was inspiring to see her running around like that. This book and the documentary mean so much to her. She is like a superhero, living a double life to achieve good things for others. I could see Sam’s eyes glowing when she talked about sharing our story on film and in print.

  While I was in Los Angeles, I had lots to do to get my own career going, now that I had finished my studies. From Sam’s flat, I was sending CVs and looking for job ads on the Internet. Even though I had the interview in place with Gerard Darel, I had to keep searching and submitting CVs until I had something secured. Getting a good job in fashion was really tough, and I was looking at everything. My hope was to stay in London, or even go abroad, but I certainly wouldn’t object to Paris. Trying to find a match for myself was really hard, but job-hunting in the company of Sam gave me the most amazing feeling. It was like we were sharing our experiences and things that really mattered together. We were really connected. We could branch away from each other, too, and it would still not break our bond. Every day, being together was more and more normal, not in a boring way, but in the best way possible. We were living together and acknowledging that our lives were now intertwined. We would grow old and share memories together. We were starting to build our own stories now, too. I no longer had to check my phone or her Facebook every morning to make sure she was real. We were living things together now, be they touristy fun things or everyday errands. It was not only about discovering each other anymore—it was sharing.

  I enjoyed watching Sam prepare lines for auditions. It was fun to see her rehearse and watch her build her characters. Now, every time I look at her tapes and sketches on the Internet and see her in films, I see her very differently. She is the character. I know it’s called “being an actor,” but I am still amazed how she acts and how she has to move differently, being someone else suddenly. It was funny to discover what was happening behind the cameras of the TV shows I usually watched from my laptop in Europe. One day, we watched Sam’s friend Kanoa on a set. He was part of the production team, and I could see how long it took to make even a small scene. So much patience was required, as even the shortest skit had to be done and redone up to four or five times. The actors had to be prepared to repeat and repeat, until there was satisfaction that the take was the best possible.

  This is also very similar to the fashion industry in a way. Everyone has to work very hard under enormous pressure on a short run. You prepare for such a long time for a very short artistic appearance; then your product is unleashed and becomes property of the industry. It was great that Sam and I could understand each other in the stress of our work. Both of our pursuits are very intense and exhausting, but we do them with passion, and we both take it personally when our efforts are rejected.

  I spent a lot of quality time with Sam’s friends. When she was working, I would spend time with them on my own. It was strange how quickly I bonded with them. I guess Sam’s and my physically identical resemblance was reassuring, even though it could also be disturbing. Past that awkwardness, I felt like I had known these people for ages. The similarity of our friends was a reflection of our own similarities, of course. We thought similarly, and therefore we developed friendships with like-minded people who shared our personalities.

  Now that I was in Los Angeles, I could also do my testing with Dr. Nancy Segal at the Cal State–Fullerton campus. The whole twins-separated-at-birth experience was so interesting, especially the whole nurture vs. nature question. When I was a kid, I felt everything about my personality was shaped more from my education and my environment than my genetics. Now my perspective was changing. I was amazed to discover so many common points with Sam, from our body language to our personalities. I am not saying that everything is genetic, but I was very surprised to see how much of who we are is anchored deep within our genetic makeup.

  Sam and I had a few hours of tests, which were quite humorous to do. Many of my tests were in French, so as not to give me a disadvantage. There were life history interviews, IQ tests, special cognitive ability tests, personality inventories, self-esteem scales, job satisfaction questionnaires, and medical life histories. I could not wait to see what our studies showed, although we hadn’t finished all of the testing. It felt amazing to know that Sam and I were part of something that could help people understand more about the development of human personalities.

  While I was in Los Angeles, Sam and I discussed going to Korea together. Sam was interested in attending a gathering sponsored by the International Korean Adoptees Association (IKAA) that would take place in Seoul from July 29 to August 4. She had heard about it from a friend of hers who was going, Dan Matthews. Dan was a Korean adoptee who had been raised in Southern California. He was very involved in the adoption community, and when Sam had met him for the first time a few months earlier, he had mentioned the IKAA gathering in Seoul. He strongly encouraged my sister to look into it, saying it would be a great experience. He said that the two of us would have the chance to bond with other adoptees and just hang out in Korea. Although there were other, smaller gatherings in
other cities with Korean adoptee populations on an annual basis, Seoul only happened every three years. It was a special opportunity to bring adoptees back to their homeland. Sam was very keen on the idea, but I was a little more hesitant. It was all a little rushed, and it was a huge decision.

  Also, Sam was so stressed about the gathering and all the details, I was not sure I wanted to go. I may have been scared about going and finding things I did not want unveiled. Some things are better hidden, as long as you are happy. Sam had been to Korea the year before, and she had an idea of what I would probably go through emotionally. I liked the idea of hearing the stories of other Korean adoptees, but I didn’t necessarily want to discover things about myself, too. It wasn’t the past that worried me; it was the feelings buried deeper inside.

  We were also writing to our birth mother, as had been suggested by Ben Sommers, Sam’s social worker at Spence-Chapin. I felt very anxious about this. Sam and I were sitting on the couch in her living room and trying to say something to a woman who we didn’t know. We guessed she knew who we were, but it was so scary to choose what to say. We were constantly changing the subject or writing things that were not connected, as we had trouble focusing on the main point at the same time. When one of us finally focused, the other one would make a joke, and vice versa. Suddenly, I got very emotional. It was weird how out of the blue this can happen, a rush of feelings surfacing when you don’t want them to, but not being able to do anything about it. It was so comforting to be near Sam, because I knew I could weep or shout or anything, and she would understand. I trusted her, and her alone, to reason with me about my emotions and validate them.

  That letter took ages to get written. Sam’s mum had sent us some photos of our trip to London and a published book filled with letters from birth mothers to their biological children. The letters had been sent with the kids when they were adopted and had been assembled for a book, I Wish You a Beautiful Life: Letters from the Korean Mothers of Ae Ran Won to Their Children. Some of the letters were so touching. I never thought or imagined there could be so many reasons for a kid to be adopted, and I guess it had been easier for me to simplify my own story by saying, “I am angry, you abandoned me, end of the story.”