A Forbidden Love

Part 7-1: Starry Sky

STARRY SKY

(3ft. X 6ft., Ink on Canvas)

This painting depicts a man looking up the sky full of bright stars.

Past twelve midnight. I still couldn't sleep. I decided not to take the sleeping pills Dr. Reynon had given to me when I had gone to the hospital to complain about my sleeping disorder. Instead, I went to the terrace and all I did was to stare blankly at the starry sky. The bright stars couldn't help but to showcase their natural loveliness, but all of them were of no help to my troubled mind. Memories from my past suddenly flashed in my mind:

You know what? It seems that you and Chloe are not twins... [Clayton's voice]

You know sometimes I wonder if we are really twins. You're good in arts while I'd make a terrible painter... [Chloe's voice]

I heard footsteps behind me.

"You're not sleeping yet," Mom said as she stood beside me.

"You too, Mom," I smiled.

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? Don't you notice how big your eye bags are?"

I laughed quietly.

"I'm a mother and I know whenever my son has a problem. You may tell me if you want to."

We became so silent that I could practically hear the cold breeze of the night. The air whispered, "Tell your Mom to tell the truth to Chloe." The voice was so familiar and it was dominating me.

"What..." I ceased but I quickly got the courage to continue. "What happened to the real Chloe? How did she die?"

"What exactly are you trying to say?" She drew back and seemed surprised of what I was saying.

"Mom, I already know the truth. I found an envelope in your bedroom two weeks ago. Inside is a certificate of death... the death of Chloe Solaire."

My mother was stunned. She stood still. Her lips unlocked, but no words came out.

"I understand if you don't want—"

"I never thought that this moment would come."

Finally, Mom uncovered the secrets that had been unknown to me and Chloe for more than twenty years... the secrets that would change my relationship with Chloe. Mom said that on her first ultrasound she and father were very glad when they found out that their first children would be twins. However, in the sixth month of her pregnancy, Dad who was also her doctor found out that my real twin sister had an irregular heartbeat. In the seventh month, her heart was no longer beating. She died in my mother's womb. Mom was forced to bear me, because the dead baby must not stay longer in her.

When they came back home after the cremation of the real Chloe, they found a baby in a basket in front of the gate. Someone had put her there. Due to their lost, they decided to adopt the infant. They treated her as if she was one of their twins — as if she was my sister.

"I'm sorry," Mom said. "I'm sorry for not telling you the truth."

"I understand... but we have to tell this to—"

"No! Not now." She held both my hands. "Please don't tell this to Chloe. It would be hard for her to accept the truth."

As I looked at the weary face of my mother — I saw movements out of the corner of my eye. Someone was standing behind the sliding glass door. It couldn't be her, I thought.

As I looked at the weary face of my mother — I saw movements out of the corner of my eye. Someone was standing behind the sliding glass door. It couldn't be her, I thought. Her right fist was pressed against her chest. Tears were heavily dropping across her cheeks. She wobbled away but her knees plunged to the ground. I ran to her. She lost consciousness and fell into my arms.

Mom called the driver. We carried Chloe into the car. Without hearing any word from either me or Mom, the guard opened the gate. I sat next to the driver. Mom was with Chloe in the passenger seat, weeping and telling the girl she considered as her daughter to wake up. As the engine started, the car rushed to the dark deserted road. It had just moved a few meters away, when I noticed a reflection of a man standing in the middle of the road in the side mirror. He was the man sprinkling water to the plants and cutting Bermuda grass in the house across the road, the one I always caught watching us — the gardener.