Preparatory Notes for Future Masterpieces by Maceo Montoya

Author:Maceo Montoya [Montoya, Maceo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781647790011
Publisher: University of Nevada Press

“Reies, I want to give you a piece of my art, if you’ll accept it. Something to remember me by.”

He eyed me hesitantly at first. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. Why would I not be sure?”

“It’s just that Ella said—”

“Ella won’t mind. Yes, I’ve given every drawing to her—she’s my muse after all—but I’m certain she’d want you to have one as well. Come on, let’s get back to the studio.”

We turned and made our way back to the workers camp. Reies kept saying that he should get back to his wife and child, but I wouldn’t hear of it until he had one of my drawings in hand. We found Ella where I assumed she’d be, staring longingly out the window, sighing. I rushed in and went directly to the trunk at the foot of the bed. “I’m going to give Reies a drawing as a token of friendship,” I told her. “He’s not such a bad guy, you know? This afternoon was all just a misunderstanding. Anyhow, let me see—”

“I should be going,” Reies said. “My wife is waiting for me.”

“One second, Reies,” and I picked out a drawing of Ella sitting in her slip on the edge of the bed, staring forlornly at her hands in her lap.

“I can’t accept that,” Reies said. “I—I—it wouldn’t be proper.”

“It’s a work of art, what wouldn’t be proper about it? It’s a depiction of beauty, isn’t that right, Ella?” I turned to her.

Ella remained silent. She was staring at me with pursed lips and wide eyes. She was fuming. Why was she fuming? Could she really not bear to part with one of her drawings?

“Don’t worry, my love, it’s just one. I’ll make plenty more for you.”

“I can’t accept it, I’m sorry,” Reies said. “And I really should be going.” This time he didn’t wait for my consent. The door was already open, and he slipped out. I heard his footsteps bound down the steps and then hit the dirt.

I turned back to Ella. “What’s wrong with you?”

That was when she exploded. “Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, her mouth open so wide that I glimpsed her tonsils. “I don’t want any more drawings of me!” she yelled. “I’m tired of posing! I’m tired of being your muse. You can’t draw anything else. All you draw is me, and I’m sick of seeing myself over and over and over!”

I was stunned. “Where is this coming from? Why didn’t you just say so? I can draw other things.”

“No, no, you can’t,” she whimpered. She had quieted and her chest was rising and lowering. I didn’t think any more screams would come out of her. I was mistaken.

“Auuuuuuuuuuuuuugh!” she screamed again.

“Shhhhhhh! Calm down, calm down. There’s no need to get upset over this.”

“No, there is,” she said. “I’ve been living with you for an entire year now, and all you do is talk about going to Paris and becoming a famous artist, and you look through your giant book of pictures and you talk to them as if they’re your best friends.

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