Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

Sarah overheard Miguel mention the Albuquerque Journal and the review of his show but remained unmoved. She hated Aisha and the standoff now split the Angelo household the only way it could— two camps, male vs female. Miguel spent the majority of his time in his garage studio painting, while Sarah found the back patio, with the shady trellis covered in trumpet vines, her retreat when Miguel was home.

Minimal interaction was the safest compromise, but Miguel's stomach still knotted up every time Sarah entered a room. His most reliable friend had become Ron Hayden, the name that appeared now on the screen of his vibrating phone.
"Hey, we should talk, I've got some interesting news to share," Ron said.
"Sure, when and where?"

Ron chose the unappetizingly named Fatted Calf, with its Western bordello décor, to meet for what people of a certain age used to call happy hour. The drinks were large, and the tab small, for a tourist town. Ron seated himself in the corner banquette at the rear. The clock said five-thirty.

Miguel arrived at 5:35. He wandered through the restaurant, his neck swiveling, taking in the crazy décor. He absorbed the red velvet wallpaper, passed judgment on the painting of reclining nudes, and laughed at the ridiculous branding iron and horseshoe bar stools. He finally found himself standing at Ron's booth before seating himself.
"Geez, Ron, couldn't find anything more kitsch?" Miguel chided.
"Have one of Manny's dirty martinis and it'll all make sense, I promise," Ron said.

With some appetizers and the martinis on the table, Ron pulled out his legal pad and began scanning his notes.
"That review of your show in the Journal kept bugging me, so I did a little detective work. Finally, I took the liberty to call them. The art critic who wrote the article is a very nice lady who claimed she attended and liked your show. But on cross examination she confessed the article was published as a favor to a certain Alissa in NYC. It turns out Alissa works for Aisha's firm in New York," Ron began.
"So Aisha got a review of my show published in the biggest paper in New Mexico, without me even knowing about it. No surprise I guess," Miguel said, drumming his fingers on the table.
"You know Cece has decided she is going to sign with SpACE, right?"
"Yeah, she told me yesterday. We went over to see what could be mine if I enlist. It's an abandoned Tesla service and delivery center, probably originally dated to the 1950s, or even the 1940s. It's really cool, actually," Miguel said.
"Don't you find it at least a little interesting that they are still working so hard on trying to get you to sign?" I'm not sure I understand what they see in you," Ron said, hoping to get a rise out of Miguel.
"I think it's just fortuitous circumstances; they already wanted Cece's gallery, but they wanted a Southwestern artist as an anchor artist. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, with the right shtick. That's all," Miguel said.
"Sounds plausible, I guess. Either way, they sure are trying to win you over. After seeing Cece's contract, which I found quite generous, I decided that, since I was semi-acting as your attorney anyway, I might as well give Aisha a call to try and find out how generous she was feeling towards you this week," Ron said.
"And?" Miguel's drumming stopped, and he suddenly perked up.

"We had a nice conversation. She told me she appreciated the help I gave Cece. She also told me she is working on nailing down a Good Morning America segment, and how she hoped to use that to feature you and your fireworks. It would include first-class travel and accommodations in NYC. Of course, I pressed on to see if I could get any actual numbers. Surprisingly, she didn't hesitate. You would get a five-year deal, because you're old, artistic freedom after the first fifty paintings to ensure they can market your product, a studio in the new complex, a very low six-figure signing bonus, and representation in SpACE Galleries worldwide."
It's not a bad deal for just painting, Miguel thought.
Ron sat silent for a full minute while Miguel avoided eye contact.

"You know what I don't get?" Ron finally said.
"No, tell me."
"You. I don't get you. You get a harebrained idea to put yourself on the map in Santa Fe to solve your retirement problems. When you succeed beyond your wildest dreams, and when honest, capable people like Cece and Aisha step up to help make the dream a reality, you suddenly fold? I need you to explain that, because it makes no sense." Ron went silent again, hoping Miguel could muster an honest answer.
Ron was right; he liked and trusted Cece. Aisha, he'd like to know better.
"I can't fathom that you don't see how lucky you are, how anxious people are to help you." Ron wanted to get on his knees and beg Miguel to take the deal.
Miguel started to drum again. Ron sat silent for a whole minute.
"So, what's your plan if you don't go with SpACE?" Ron tried again.
"I guess it's back to the art fairs and craft shows like Sarah predicts," Miguel mumbled, staring into space.
"You can live with that?" Ron waved for another round.
"I don't know what to say. I'm not anxious to make Sarah a major problem in my life again," Miguel said, still avoiding eye contact.
"Bullshit, she's your excuse for letting yourself down. At least be honest with yourself."
A long pause ensued as Miguel blinked from the pain of the truth.
"If I sign, Sarah will say I betrayed her. If I don't sign, I betray myself. Either way, I'm screwed." Miguel finally answered
"Age old marital dilemma, right?" Ron asked.
"I guess. But if I take the offer I may lose Sarah in the process," Miguel shrugged.
"Well, you're the one who has to live with whatever decision you make," Ron said.
Miguel's chest tightened. You can say that again.

Miguel regrouped and took a new tact. "My brain keeps waving a red flag warning me that I won't be my own man any longer, and I'll probably lose my wife in the process," he said flatly.
"Look, I've been married, I understand that power struggles in relationships can be exhausting. But that red flag is not your friend; it's forcing you to deny yourself everything you want." Ron said.
"Your wife is the least of your problems— Buy her off. Start with a first-class trip to NYC. Use some of your bonus, buy her a car, you know what her desires are, make them work for you," Ron said.
"Maybe that's a good idea, distraction," Miguel mused.
"Smother her with love, happiness, and gifts until she sees the light. Eventually, she'll forget what she was so worried about when she sees you so happy," Ron promised.
"That makes sense actually," Miguel admitted.
"Sarah, is the easy problem. The bigger problem is your misplaced sense of independence. That misconception that you must be your own man, that may take more work. Especially if a six-figure check isn't swaying you," Ron laughed, Miguel looked rather helpless.
"I'd be handcuffed, they may be golden handcuffs, but they're handcuffs just the same," Miguel said.
"Handcuffed how? Weren't you handcuffed in California? Doesn't sound like covering for sick employees, rent increases, etc. etc. to bother you back then." Ron pushed.
"It's having to answer to someone I guess, or fear of it. I've never faced that before," Miguel answered honestly.
"Look, let's get some grub. Maybe you'll feel better about your choices on a full stomach. Is Sarah cooking for you at least?" Ron asked.
"No, but I can cook, that's not a big deal," Miguel said.

They ate, and the vinyl banquette cushions groaned as loudly as their stomachs at the overabundance. Miguel, carnivore that he was, gorged on prime rib.. He decided that The Fatted Calf would be a safe place to hang out if he were to become famous, being too kitschy and fattening for the eternally tasteful and skinny art crowd to find him.

Outside, they stood in the parking lot. Ron offered Miguel a ride home.
"Thanks, but I'm going to walk. I want to clear my head and digest. I have a lot to think about. You've given me some clarity, and I appreciate that," Miguel said.
"Okay, can you handle some final words of wisdom? Ron asked.
"Shoot."
"I'll say it in the kindest way I know how; If you don't take this offer, you're an idiot. Good night." Ron pulled out of the lot giving a parade wave, watching Miguel in the mirror as he drove off.
Miguel started walking, and pondering. When he reached the condo, the glow from behind the curtains signaled that Sarah was home. Confused and unsure, or maybe a little drunk, he rang the doorbell. He wanted to confront his wife face-to-face, not look at her back when he told her what he was about to say.

The door opened, and Miguel took a deep breath.
When the door opened, his words spilled out. "Like it or not, I'm signing with SpACE. I still love you, and it's all going to be all right," he recited.
Sarah turned and walked away. Miguel stood on the porch for several seconds, before heading in and going to bed. Her reaction convinced him he was making the right decision.
A tense weekend was avoided when Sarah stayed largely absent, unable or unwilling to address their situation head-on. Miguel tried to focus on painting and playing with new techniques that he imagined might come in handy soon. His head was brimming with ideas for the future.

By Tuesday Miguel had made up his mind, he called Cece to share his decision.
"It's Miguel, have you got a second?"
"Sure, what's up?"
"I wanted to let you know I've decided to sign up with SpACE."
"Well, I think that's awesome. How's Sarah taking the news?" Cece wondered.
"Not well, she's been mostly MIA since I told her."
"She'll come around. Did you hear? Aisha has a Good Morning America segment lined up."
"Yeah? That would be amazing. Did you know Aisha got my show reviewed in the Albuquerque Journal? She sure knows how to make things happen, that's the main reason I decided to sign. I can't represent myself better than they can, not even close. I've decided I'm with you, I won't be left behind.

"So, you chose one of the most exclusive and prestigious galleries in the world over a booth at the Santa Fe Arts and Crafts Fair? Tough choice." They both laughed at that one.
"Are you busy today? Would you like to go look at the temp studio again today? You might see it in a different light," Cece suggested.
"Sure, let's go stare at our temporary future," Miguel said.
"After lunch, say one?"
"Perfect, see you there," Miguel said before hanging up.

On Miguel's second visit to his future studio, he had a whole different perspective on it.
"What about Marcus and Sean?" Miguel asked.
"We keep them on; nobody has said or written anything else," said Cece.
"I'm going to need some easels and large tables. I also need a wall apparatus for squeegee painting on canvas. I'll put Marcus on that," said Miguel.
"Have you told Ron and Aisha your decision?
"Not yet," Miguel said.
"Why don't you call Ron, and I'll call Aisha. We can give both of them the good news at the same time," Cece suggested.
"Great idea, let them work out the details," Miguel agreed.

Cece dialed Aisha's office. "Hi, this is Cece in Santa Fe. Can you tell Aisha that Miguel has decided to sign with SpACE? Aisha should expect a call from Ron Hayden to iron out the details. Thank you, Bye," Cece hung up.
Miguel left a DM for Ron. "Hi Ron, I've decided to take your advice and sign the agreement with SpACE. Please, call Aisha. Cece has told her to expect your call. And thank you! I'll keep you updated. Talk to you soon."
As they locked the door on their way out, Miguel mentally pictured handcuffs clicking shut. Sentenced to five years, due to circumstances beyond his control.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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Mike Schwarcz was born in Stockholm and immigrated to the United States in 1956.

His mother was an artist, who exposed him to the world of the arts and artists growing up in Southern California. A regular part of his youth were visits to her artist friends' studios.

He sold his first painting in 1968 – for $10. By 1982 he had married and opened a poster and frame shop in Venice Beach, CA. It was during this period that he published his first posters under the Speedway Graphics banner.

In 2021 he immigrated again, this time to San Miguel de Allende where he now paints and writes.

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