The Blank Canvas

Prologue

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The elevator's door slid open behind me.

"Going up, sir?" the lady operator said.

As I turn around, people inside moved a bit to create a litle space enough only for me. But not for the items 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 elavator to comeback 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. The mindless creatures didn't know that I staggered while bearing the canvas and easel, as they were about to bump into me. It seemed that 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, until a man wearing a vest and bow tie and sitting on the desk waved his hand a me. Hes the curator.

"Look around, Mr. Solaire, the exhibi is doing well," he said, as he approached me.

I look 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, but why? A great painter like you doesn't have the right to hide his idenity."

"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 hi bow tie as if it had gotten dislocated.

"Sir, what are these 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, symbol of an artist."

"I see." These inquisitive guy seemed not to lose many questions. 

"By the way, sir, would you mind if I ask why you pulled the selling of that painting?" He set his hand 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 showed that the natural beauty would still emerge from the customary beauty endowed by cosmetics and elegants dresses.

"Many people are intersted to buy it," he continued, displeased as if he was the paineter.

"They are willing to pay thousand of pesos just for this painting which they will only hang on thier living rooms. These chances are slipping through your fingers."

"It's a long story and it starts with that painting." I pointed at the oil painting on the otherv side of the gallery. Its title is Twin Cakes which depicts a young bor 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. Probably, he was looking for the one 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"

As I stood before the blank canvas, I noiced that the people in th gallery were multiplying. All of them didn't know that behind those paintings lay the story of Chleo Solaire's life... the story of my life.