DISCLAIMER:I do not own, or have anything to do with Orlando Bloom, Elijah Wood, or anyone/anything associated with them. I also do not own Matchbox Twenty. Somara, Raina, and their parents belong to me.
*summary: Uses the song "Bright Lights" by Matchbox 20. When tragedy strikes down an acting prodigy by the name of Raina Johnson, can her sister, Somara - along with Orlando's help - pull everything back together in time to save the film Raina was working on...and herself?
ONE
she got out of town
on a railway new york bound and
took all except my name
another alien on broadway...
"Raina! Please...don't leave," a tear slipped down my cheek as my sister, a minute younger than I was, tossed the rest of her belongings into the bed of Dad's green, beat-up, old Ford Ranger. I watched as the grey suitcase flew over the tailgate and landed with a thud amongst all of her other personal effects and bags. That was it. Raina was going to leave me.
"I'm sorry, Somara. I have to go, you know that. I have an audition in a week and I can't miss it. If I could stay..." a tear fell from her cheek. "...I would."
I just stared at her. "No...you wouldn't, Ray. You'd still leave. You know it...I know it. You'd still leave me here in this...Hell. You may be leaving friends behind here, Ray, but when you go...I...I'll be losing the only friend I have left."
Raina shook her head and gave me a sad smile. "You always could call my bluff, Somara," with that, my sister gave me a final hug, a kiss on the cheek, took the keys to the truck from her pocket, and jumped into the driver's seat with her golden hair blowing behind her. I closed my eyes and hung my head. At this very moment, Raina's visage went beyond average...Raina had become beautiful. I had known my entire life that I was beautiful, and I had flaunted it. Raina; however, had always looked average with her golden hair always kept up in a messy bun or a low ponytail, her old worn out jeans, and old ragged t-shirts. Raina also never wore makeup, but here she was, a brilliant blue eyeshadow gracing her lids, a soft pink blush upon her high cheekbones, and an elegant chocolaty brown lip color dragged across her beautifully procured lips. Her olive skin glistened, and her hazel eyes danced as if to exemplify her obvious excitement. Raina's nails went from chewed back to being French tipped and beautifully adorned on the outside corners of her thumbs with tiny rhinestones that shined like diamonds. She wore something that was reminiscent of my closet: a pair of brand new low-rise button fly, boot-cut sandblasted jeans, a plain black halter top, and brown ankle-high boots. At that moment I became jealous of my sister, at that moment she had become more beautiful than I, and at that moment I began to hate myself for being so damned selfish.
My sister had become beautiful, perfect, and everything that I had strived to be all my life in one fell swoop. I was crushed. I was startled from my reverie as she started up the old, noisy diesel truck. It rumbled noisly as Raina shut the door and blew everyone a kiss. My parents simply stood off to the side silently, a queer smile on their faces as they watched their daughter drive off toward her uncertain future in New York City. I cursed them for being so seemingly careless. Little did I know that they were anxious about Raina's future, and I had no clue about it...until she returned home three years later.
Within those three years, I had formed a dream of my own and lived it out. I had become an author; not quite bestselling as of yet, but I had done it. I'd landed a deal with a major publishing company after sending in a short piece I'd written up nearly five years earlier, and the company's executives had loved it. The next day they had flown me out to Los Angeles, and I had signed a contract for three short stories to work in tandem with the one that had gotten me on board, and a full-length novel. I wasn't about to turn down the best thing that had ever happened to me, so I signed the paper with a flourish of my left hand and left for home two days later.
Every so often, I had been flown out to LA to report back to the company executives on my progress. On my last trip I had handed in two of the required short stories to my agent and editor, Elena Gilbert, and she had grinned upon them as she had scanned over the stack of twenty-four crumpled and dog-eared sheets of notebook paper. With a sigh of relief and a nod from Elena, I had announced their completion to the company's board members, and then produced the two completed chapters of my novel, as of then untitled, to them. They were impressed, to say the least. It was a horror story, brought upon by a dream I'd had a few nights before my meeting, and I had launched myself into it full force. I'd gotten the prologue written hours after I had woken up, and had finished the first chapter two days after that. The only thing that I wouldn't divulge to them was that I was stuck. Writer's block had settled in and refused to give way. My third and final short was going along just fine, but my novel was trash as far as I was concerned. I was tempted to just up and throw it all away, but my contract prevented me from doing so. At least until I had something else to replace it with.
All of these thoughts ran through my head as I flew back on the plane to Lubbock...and home. What inspiration could I possibly find to get my story moving again? What could I replace my story with if I couldn't find that inspiration? I hung my head as I faced the inevitable: I was waxed. There was no way I could get this story going again, and I had NOTHING to replace it with. Over the four-hour flight, I wracked my brain trying to come up with a new plotline for the existing novel, or a plotline for a completely new one: every bit of it to no avail. I had no inspiration which equaled no story. I was cooked.
As the plane touched down at Lubbock International Airport, I let out a breath I never knew I'd been holding, just as I do everytime I fly. There's a tiny fear of flying in me somewhere that comes out everytime the airliner touches down that makes me shudder and I don't know why. I'd flown a million times, and still I get scared at the end of a flight...even to this very day. I suppose it's just reflexes. I gathered my things and stood up before reaching up to collect my carry-on bag from over my head. As I walked through the abnormally bustling terminal, I was greeted by pushy passengers just coming home or trying desperately to find their gate in the pathetically small airport. I smiled at the business the airport was finally getting back after the 9/11 tragedy. It was about time that these people learned that they needed to get on with their lives again. I made my way to the baggage claim area and collected my large black rolling suitcase before heading off for the parking lot to spend time searching for my car amongst all of the others in the garage. Luckily, I was able to catch a shuttle out to the covered garage, and the driver helped me put the weighty bag into the fairly good-sized trunk of my hunter green 2000 Ford Focus. I thanked him, and handed him a five dollar bill for his help - Hey! I do believe in tipping, thank you! - and got into my car.
As badly as I wanted to get home, I refused to move. I leaned my head back against the soft headrest and sighed. The day I had arrived back home was April twenty-fifth. April twenty-fifth meant the end of the freedom I'd had in LA. April twenty-fifth meant seeing the parents I'd missed over the past week again. But most of all, April twenty-fifth meant seeing her again. That's right: Raina had come home the day before, and now I couldn't delay in seeing her any longer. Truthfully, I dreaded the return of my once-beloved sister, and now that she was back...I loathed this very moment. I reluctantly pulled my head from the headrest and started the engine. The car purred to life beautifully, reminding me exactly how much I had missed my own things.
I drove home slowly, not pushing the speed limit as I so often did as I drove around town. I still had things to think about, things to wonder about, in regards to my sister. After forty-five minutes of driving and pondering, I pulled up to the house on the south side of town with the red door and grey brick. I was back at the home I hadn't lived in for the past year and a half. I put the car into park in the left side of the driveway, and shut off the engine. A glance to my right revealed a vision of a dark grey Chevy Tahoe, but not a trace of the old beat-up truck Raina had taken off in. I hauled myself out of the car, and ran my hands over my grey skirt to smooth out some of the wrinkles before tugging at my matching blazer nervously. I knew Raina had found success, I'd seen her letters to my parents, but I'd never received any letters of my own. I shook my head and ducked back into the car quickly to check my appearance.
I flipped the sun visor down and flipped open the mirror. Wincing at my visage, I plucked the solid powder compact from my purse, and dabbed it across my forehead, nose, and chin to conceal the oiliness, if only for a short moment. I then used that smaller mirror in the compact to aid in taking a look at my hair which was still in fairly good condition from earlier that morning. My hair, contrary to Raina's, was a shiny jet black, and I had parted it in a zigzag and secured it tightly with a black hairtie at the nape of my neck. Instead of letting the rest of my hair fall down between my shoulder blades, I had doubled up the ponytail leaving a loop and a few stray pieces of my layers out of the hold instead of the classic business ponytail look. My eyes; however, were the same shade of hazel as Raina's: a deep green mingled with flecks of gold and blue, and a ring of a gray-blue around the edge of my iris. I had brushed them with a dark grey shadow earlier that morning. I smudged the eyeshadow out of the creases of my eye, making myself look a bit more presentable. My eyes were lined with a thick line of black eyeliner, and my cheeks were brushed with a coppery blush. My lips I touched up quickly with a copper lipstick, before flipping the visor back up, and getting out of the car once more. I tucked invisible strands of hair behind each ear as I shut the car door and locked it. With my black purse and laptop bag over one shoulder, and my car keys in the other hand, I stopped before the front door. Taking a deep breath, I reached out, took hold of the door handle, pressed down on the latch, and pulled the wooden, red painted door open to reveal my parents beaming at my sister who looked up at me, a matching smile on her face...amazingly enough she still looked beautiful, but she didn't hold my attention for too long.
My eyes shifted to the man seated beside her. His hair was a very dark brown, short with unruly curls, his eyes were the most beautiful chocolate color I had ever seen in my entire life, and he had a brilliant facial structure: beautifully crafted cheekbones and luscious lips that just begged to be kissed. His eyes shone brightly, and when he smiled it was as if he lit up the room with a smile that I was positive could get any woman to agree to anything he would ever dare ask of her. He had the most incredible complexion I had ever seen as well...Gods, he was gorgeous. I would've even swore that he was glowing. The moment was broken shortly by, who else? The beautiful Miss Raina Johnson.
"Hello, Somara. Welcome home," I tore my gaze from the beautiful stranger long enough to stare at my sister for another moment to see her smiling at me. "I want you to meet someone, Somara." Raina gazed from me to the man beside her, and it was then that I noticed how close they were sitting. I took a step forward, but my heart took one in the opposite direction.
" 'Allo, Somara," He spoke with a brilliant British accent as he stood up to shake my hand, giving me that knee-weakening smile once more in the process. "I'm Orlando Bloom, 'S a pleasure to meet you, luv."
I couldn't help but smile in return, despite my suspicions about my sister and this this dashing Mr. Bloom. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Bloom..." I could only reply as I returned his handshake.
"Please, Call me Orli," he smiled once more, and I nodded.
"As you wish...Orli." I beamed, as he pulled me down next to him on the couch. As soon as my rear hit the sofa, I jumped up excusing myself to the bathroom. What was I getting myself into? I locked the door behind me, and turned on the faucet. As the cold water hit my face, I told myself that I would wake up and that the delectable Mr. Bloom wouldn't still be seated in my parents' living room, right next to my unbelievably beautiful actress sister. I told myself that the only thing real was my career, and my sister wasn't one of the most successful actresses on Broadway. I reapplied my make-up while hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. As I stepped out of the bathroom, I realized I should have hoped less and prepared harder. There they sat: my sister the actress, and Orlando the gorgeous. Together. On my parents' couch. Sitting so close that they were touching knees.
That very moment, I wished I could skip our little catching-up time and head right into the going home stage so that I didn't have to witness a moment of this romance that I just knew was blooming right in my former living room. I would have given anything in that moment to be back in my apartment, munching away at bowl after bowl of Cap'n Crunch or Trix. Once again, Raina broke into the 'moment,' and delivered the most heart-wrenching news I had ever heard from her. Her news made me regret every moment I had dreaded seeing her again and every moment in these last three years that I had spent hating her for being so perfect in every way.
"Now that everyone is here, I have something to say," she began and I stifled a laugh, thinking she'd be delivering the news of her engagement to the charming Mr. Bloom. "Somara, do pay attention. I know that face." she continued, and I blushed. I looked up at my sister, and noticed something missing in her appearance suddenly. Honestly, I couldn't have told you if it was there when I had returned home, because I hadn't cared, but now...something was wrong, way wrong, and I was about to hear what was happening to my 'baby' twin sister.
"Ray...?" Suddenly I could feel something wrong lingering in the air, and I squinted at my sister. I could feel the leery eyes of my parents floating from Raina to me, and back to Raina. "What is it?" I could feel my throat dry up, and suddenly I was deathly afraid.
"Mom, Dad, Somara...I brought Orli with me to help me with the courage to tell you all this," a faint smile curved the corners of my mother's mouth, but the sour feeling in the pit of my stomach grew. Orlando took Raina's hand in his and stroked her back comfortingly at the same time. Raina hung her head. "I...I..," Tears fell from Raina's eyes as she looked up at me. "I have cancer, guys. I think...I think I'm dying."
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