A Forbidden Love (A Short Story)

“What if one day when you wake up you realize you are falling in love with your own sister?”

Chleo Solaire is a young contemporary artist whose dream is finally fulfilled when he had his first ever solo exhibit of his paintings. But no one knows that behind those masterpieces lay the story of his life. The story of how he struggled to pursue his ambition despite his father’s disapproval because he was expected to take over the private hospital owned by his family. The story of a family secret his mother is keeping from them. And the story of how he contemplated a strange feeling for Chloe until one day he realized he loved Chloe not because she is his twin sister… but because she’s a woman.

A Forbidden Love is a story that will teach us how to fight for our dream… and fight for true love not considered correct in front of our eyes.

PROLOGUE

The elevator’s door slid open behind me, and the lady operator inside called out, “Going up, sir.”

As I turned around, people inside moved a bit to create a little space enough only for me — but not for the things I was carrying. Their eyes focused at the canvas and easel I was holding, as if they wanted to tell me that I should wait for the elevator to come back again.

“Are you going with us, sir?” the operator said now in a loud voice.

“I guess I have to use the escalator,” I answered. I lost hope that the elevator would come back with the operator only, because I had waited for it for the third time around.

Using the escalator, I reached the fifth and highest floor of the mall, beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I walked against a current of people who had just come out from the cinema. They were just walking, but not minding whether they would bump into me. These mindless creatures didn’t know that I staggered while carrying the canvas and easel. It seemed like I was travelling in a labyrinth wherein they were the walls. How lucky I am today, I thought.

Finally, I arrived at my destination, the “Artcube” gallery. To my surprise, there were many viewers on the first day of the exhibit. I scrutinized the faces one by one to find the curator, until I found him wearing vest and bow tie and sitting on the desk. He waved his hand at me.

“Look around, Mr. Solaire, the exhibit is doing well,” he said, as he approached me.

I looked around, not because he told me, but to find if someone heard him mention my name.

“Don’t call me by my name, please,” I mumbled near his ear.

“I’m sorry, sir. But why? A great painter like you doesn’t have the right to hide his identity.”

“I just don’t want to be recognized — Place these at the center,” I said, handing him the easel and canvas.

After he assembled them, he rearranged his bow tie as if it had gotten dislocated.

“Sir, what are these things for?” he said. “Why is this canvas blank? Why it has no painting?”

“They’re just, ahmm,” I said, looking at the ceiling to think of any words. “Err, symbols of an artist.”

“I see.” This inquisitive guy seemed not to lose many questions. “By the way, sir, would you mind if I ask why you pulled out the selling of that painting?” He set his head in the direction of the painting entitled The Prom Queen which depicts a girl wearing a simple black gown in the midst of ladies wearing elegant gowns. The painting shows that the natural beauty will still emerge from the customary beauty endowed by cosmetics and elegant dresses.

“Many people are interested to buy it,” he continued, displeased as if he was the painter. “They’re willing to pay thousands of pesos just for this painting which they will only hang in their living rooms. These chances are slipping through your fingers.”

“It’s a very long story… and it starts with that painting.” I pointed at the oil painting on the other side of the gallery. Its title is Twin Cakes which depicts a young boy and a young girl wearing party hats and blowing candles on two identical varicolored cakes. “The boy is me while the girl is my sister Chloe. We’re twins.”

“Really? I didn’t know that you have a twin sister. Chloe and Chleo, nice names. I haven’t seen her yet. When will she come here?”

“She will never come.”

An old man came near the desk, perhaps looking for who was managing the exhibit.

“Excuse me, sir. The man must be looking for me,” the curator said and strolled away. I heard him whisper, “Another hopeful.”

I stood before the blank canvas and noticed that the people in the gallery were increasing — all of them didn’t know that behind those paintings lay the story of Chleo Solaire’s life — the story of my life.

THE GARDENER

(5ft. X 4ft., Pastel on Canvas)

This painting depicts how the gardener maintains the beauty of the garden.

Holding the remote control, I watched how my toy helicopter roved in the yard. This was my parent’s birthday gift to me. Chloe had received a robot doll which was like a real baby. It could laugh and cry. We were 9 years old back then.

My sister was in the gazebo, pulling the hair of the doll. The doll produced a real cry of a baby. When she pressed the arms of the doll, it cried. When she threw it, it cried again. Luckily, the robot was shock-proof, so it could endure whatever pain the owner inflicted to it. Chloe didn’t show any mercy to the doll. In fact, she was enjoying it.

I steered the helicopter to land on the ground. To tell you the truth, I was not interested to play that kind of toy. I had been expecting that my parent’s gift to me would have been color pastels. I went to the gazebo, because my favorite toys were there — papers and pencils. Chloe was still playing her doll — I suppose killing was the right term.

“Chleo, can I borrow your helicopter?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, not tinted with hesitation.

A few moments later, the maid brought us a tray of snacks.

“Where is Chloe?” the maid asked, as she put the tray on the table.

I looked around. Chloe, as well as my toy, was not around. The gate was open. Through the railing, I saw her talking to a man on the other side of the road. The man was wearing a ragged shirt with a towel around his neck. I suddenly remembered an episode of my favorite cartoon. The kid with super power defeated the monstrous man who had seized many children to make them his slaves. The antagonist in that show happened to be a gardener and he used his bewitched flowers to persuade the children to come with him. I decided to be a hero like the super kid. I got on my feet and sprinted towards them.

“Don’t touch my sister,” I told the man in a dignified voice. I lifted the toy, pulled Chloe’s arm, and went back into our yard.

“Mom said, ‘Don’t talk to strangers’,” I reminded Chloe, as if I was an older brother.

“He didn’t hurt me. The helicopter flew into their garden. He gave it back to me… and he also gave this to me.” She showed me a pink orchid. “He’s a gardener. And you know what? They have a beautiful garden. He asked me how I was but you pulled me away from him.”

Since that day, I always caught glimpses of him sprinkling water to the plants, cutting grass — and staring at our house. I couldn’t trust that man. I knew that he wanted something from us — maybe, it was Chloe.

THE PROM QUEEN (4ft. X 6ft., Acrylic on Canvas)

Tonight was the awaited night of the seniors — the prom. I was wearing black shiny leather shoes, black pants, white long-sleeve polo under a black tuxedo, and gray-and-black plaid necktie.

“Do you think you can fix the car in just half an hour?” I asked the driver repairing something under the SUV.

“I don’t think so.” He came out with his hands full of black grease. “I guess we have to call a mechanic.”

Supposedly, Dad would be the one to bring us to the venue, but he had to attend an emergency meeting at the private hospital owned by my family.

I went back to the porch where Mom was standing. Finally, Chloe came out after a century had passed that she had been doing girls’ stuff on her face. She was wearing a simple black gown — and a helmet.

“Chleo,” my sister called out. “We’re going to be late. We better ride on your motorbike.” She pulled me to the motor and seated. Can you imagine how she did that in just a few seconds while wearing heels?

“You can’t,” Mom said. “What would they think if they saw a princess riding on a motor?”

“It’s not important, Mom. What important is we will be there. Besides, I’m not a princess, not even Chleo.”

“Of course,” I said, “because I’m a prince.”

“But before you go,” mother spoke to Chloe, “let me see your face.”

“I can’t, Mom. It will be a surprise. Wait for us when we come back home.” She turned her head to me and said, “Don’t just stand there. Let’s go.”

Using my motorbike, we arrived at the school. Chloe hopped down and took off her helmet — I realized how my sister had grown as a beautiful lady but…

“Is that what took you so long in your room?” I said. “You didn’t even put foundation, blushes or lipstick.”

“I’d put them for many times, but I would only wash my face afterwards. I really don’t know how to use such girls’ stuff.”

“So will that be your surprise to Mom when we come home?”

“Don’t worry. I phoned a friend and asked her to put some make up on me when I came.” She locked her arm around mine and walked me into the hallway where scented petals were scattered. “I know you’d waited for me for a long time, but let me remind you, you don’t have the right to scold me ‘cause you’re not my older sibling. We’re twins. Remember?”

“Alright. Alright. So… do you have a date tonight?”

“No, but I’m going to have for sure. How about you?”

“Ahmmm–I don’t but I’m going to have.”

“For sure?”

“Ah–yeah… for sure.” I wasn’t really quite sure when I said it.

We saw some of her peers wearing elegant gowns.

“I’m going to them now,” she said and made her way to them. But she turned back. “If you’re not going to have a date tonight, I volunteer myself.”

“It’s not necessary. I‘m really going to have one,” I chuckled.

I watched my sister with her friends. Among their gowns, Chloe’s was the most unadorned. But her black gown contrasted her fair complexion. Among them, she was the prettiest. For me, she was the prom queen. You know what? These days, I’d been having this strange feeling towards my very own sister.

A man taller than me stood beside me and said, “Your sister is beautiful.” I looked over my shoulder and found Clayton who was one of our batchmates.

“You know what?” he continued. “It seems that you and Chloe are not twins.”

“You’re right. Chloe is beautiful while I am handsome.”

“Can I have a dance with your sister later?”

“You don’t have to get permission from me. I’m not her older sibling. We’re twins. Remember?”

“Then that serves as my permission.”

THE FAMILY’S SUPPER

(7ft. X 3ft., Fresco on Canvas)

This painting depicts a family having their supper. It looks like the famous painting “Last Supper” by Leonardo da Vinci which shows the supper of Jesus Christ and his disciples on the eve of His Crucifixion. In this painting, the father is in the middle.

We were eating our supper. The seat intended for Dad, which was usually empty, was manned that day. The food on the table was more than for the four of us, probably, because my father was there. He seldom ate with us due to the demands of his work as the director and doctor of the private hospital owned by my family. We rarely saw him… and I noticed that he was getting thinner.

“When will be your graduation?” Dad asked.

“Next week, Saturday, Dad,” Chloe answered.

“So what are your plans in college?” This was the first time that he asked about that. At least, we knew that he was still concerned.

“I actually want to be a doctor like you, Dad, and I’d like to work in our hospital,” Chloe said.

“That’s really what I want for you. You could be a good doctor like me.“ Dad turned his head to me. “And how about you, Chleo?”

Mom and Chloe stopped eating and their faces looked very excited, waiting for me to mention something that might surprise Dad.

“I already passed the UP College admission test, and I’ve got the slot for fine arts. My talent exam is scheduled next week.”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see how blissful the smiles of my mother and sister were. My eyes were fixed to Dad. His face didn’t show any emotion. Isn’t he happy for me, I asked myself.

“I was thinking if you could also be a doctor like me,” father said in a calm voice. “I’m looking forward that you’ll be taking over the hospital.”

“Dad,” Chloe interrupted, “let me assume the responsibility. Just let Chleo do what he wants. He has a rare talent and I don’t want it to be wasted.”

“You’re a lady and it’s a big burden for you,” father said.

I tried to defend myself, but he didn’t want to hear my side.

“I’m not forcing you to do what I want, Chleo. I’m just giving you an option to consider.” But Dad’s words were the laws of the house. Though he always said that he was just giving an option, in the end we would be forced to do what he wanted.

I stared at Mom, hoping that she would stand for me — but she didn’t. Instead, she bowed her head. I put down my spoon and table knife. I already lost my appetite. I nodded, unwillingly telling them my agreement. If I couldn’t do what I want for myself, then I would do it for my family. I didn’t want to hear them saying that I was selfish.

I covered my whole self under the blanket. It was totally dark in my room. Someone knocked at the door, but I didn’t bother to get up from my bed. The door creaked open and the switch of the lights clicked on.

“Chleo.” It was Chloe’s voice. “It’s me… why did you put these paints and brushes in the trash can?”

I felt some things were thrown on my bed, but I remained silent.

“Do you want me to talk to Dad?”

“If Dad didn’t listen to me, why would he listen to you?” I felt her weight on my bed.

“You can never just walk so easily away from your dream.”

Her hand tapped on my head. She got up and I heard her steps, and the door creaked open.

“We’re twins. Remember? I’m always here with you, Chleo.”

The switch clicked off, and the door creaked close again.

Chloe was the only one who understood me.

 

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