“My brother,” I said, “I’ve been looking for the opportunity to come and talk to you for a while now. May I come in?”
Juan’s face was pale; dark bags hung like hammocks below his eyes. He gestured me to enter without saying anything and stepped aside to let me in. “There, let’s sit in the kitchen.”
A soft breeze carried the smell of spring through the open window – pollen, fertilizer. I sat at the wooden chair on the side of the table. “I’ve carried this issue in my heart for a long time.”
“Hmm,” Juan mumbled. He put two glasses on the table and filled them with cold water from a ceramic carafe. Then he sat down at the head of the table and said, “Well, let’s hear it then.”
I took a sip and gathered my thoughts. “Juan, I have been observing you.”
“Observing me? What could be so interesting about me?” he replied sharply. I hesitated, feeling taken aback by his abruptness. I took another sip of water. “I think you drink too much.”
I looked at Juan in silence from across the table. His hand embraced the cup. “Pablo,” he finally said, “you know you are always welcome at my home.”
I felt very happy and welcome after these kind words. “I came because I care about you,” I said. “I could never stay quiet seeing there’s something wrong with you.”
“Hmm,” Juan mumbled, still looking at his glass.
“Please, Juan,” I continued, “you have a family to look after. They need you and so does our community in this village. You will destroy everything if you keep drinking like you do.”
Juan finally looked up from his glass. I seemed to have his attention now.
“Remember,” I continued, “your family depends on you. So does the community. But they won’t be able to count on you unless you give up drinking. Alcohol breaks so much more than it repairs.”
“You might be right about that, Pablo,” Juan said, “but remember, every drunkard has a good reason to drink.”
I finished my water. Then I took the ceramic jug and filled my glass again. Juan’s answer had surprised me. I knew he was struggling, but I never thought his life was so bad he needed alcohol to cope. “Juan, I agree with, but you have to remember that alcohol makes you lose control, and it negatively affects your health.”
Juan nodded and I felt encouraged to drive my point home with a couple examples. “Do you remember,” I said, “what happened yesterday? Do you remember why you woke up alone?”
Juan clicked his teeth without responding.
“She is your wife, Juan!”
“My life is getting worse day after day,” Juan said. “I married a woman who doesn’t respect me. She mocks and blames me for everything! The alcohol helps me forget my problems, it helps me not care about her insults. Who wants to deal with drama every evening?”
“You’re a strong man, Juan,” I replied. “It’s not right to treat your wife badly because of this. You might have a child later. So many people have children after many years of marriage.”
“You’re right, Pablo, but without drinking I feel ashamed.”
“No,” I said, “it’s the drinking that’s making everything harder for you.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel, Pablo!” Juan banged his fist on the table and looked at me with fire in his eyes. I was shocked for a moment, as our conversation had been relatively peaceful up until that point.
“How many people do you know whose problems have been solved by alcohol?” I asked without breaking eye contact. “It only makes things worse, not better. And what about the hangovers? You’re gonna find the same problems right where you left them the night before.”
Juan’s eyes softened a bit as I spoke those words. Then he looked out the window. It looked out at the courtyard of the school, where the children were playing now. Perhaps you’re right…”
“Trust God and He will help you.”
“But I don’t know if I have the strength to stop drinking.”
I decided it was the right time to play my trump card. “Trust God’s timing, Juan. Face the future, good things are coming for you. Stop now and you’ll feel stronger soon. If you can’t stop drinking for yourself, do it for your child.”
Juan looked at me again with furious eyes, as if I had betrayed him. His hands trembled. “How do you know that?” he said.
“This is a small village, Juan,” I replied. “People talk. But that doesn’t matter. You could have killed her and the baby last night.”
Juan got up so suddenly that the chair fell behind him. “Pablo, don’t think that you’re special and you have the monopoly of knowledge as well as wisdom.”
“How can you say that, Pablo?” I said, not letting myself be intimidated by his raised voice.
“Who do you think you are? Do you think you’re better than the rest?”
“No, I don’t. I’m not special. I just love you and want the best for you and your family. You are like a brother to me.”
“Do we have the same father?” Juan shouted. The school children in the courtyard turned and looked curiously
“It’s just how I feel about us, Juan. I don’t mean no harm. But I’m sorry I said that. Forgive me, please.”
My words did little to deescalate the situation. Juan was pacing up and down the kitchen now. I stood up too and slowly made way for the exit, knowing that alcohol makes people unpredicatable and dangerous
“So she told you, huh?” Juan said. “You have been talking to my wife behind my back?”
“Juan, no!” I was now in the doorway. “I would never go behind your back!”
“Then why do you know things only her husband should know?” he said, bitterly. “Are you sleeping with her, Pablo? How else would you know such intimate details about my wife?”
“There is nothing going on between us, Juan. A few days ago I overheard some women speaking about your wife down by the river. They were very concerned for your wife, everybody knows you beat her when you’re drunk. ”
“You’re lying! I will never believe you! Never, never and never!”
His words hurt me deeply. “Juan, listen to yourself!” I said. “I came as your friend!”
“You!” He pointed his finger at me. His chest was heaving with each breath and his faced gleamed with sweat. “You think you are better than me, don’t you? You think you can judge me in my own house!”
Knowing there was no way to deescalate the situation, I slowly stepped out of the kitchen. When I stood in the corridor, I slammed the door shut and put a chair in front of it. As I made way for the front door, I heard the door break open. Then, I heard the scraping of metal. My heart started racing. Juan came out, holding the big knife he used to prune the olive trees. “You think you can steal my wife and teach me how to live?” he shouted. “I will kill you!”
“Juan, stop!” I raised my hands. “I never touched her! Think about your child! Think about Maria!”
But he was not listening. His eyes were full of rage. He stepped toward me and lifted the knife.
I had never felt so scared before in my life. I looked around and saw the window. Without thinking, I jumped through it. The glass cut my arm, but I didn’t stop. I ran into the late afternoon, my heart pounding as I heared Juan shouting behind me.
Juan was running after me eagerly. “Pablo, Pablo! I am going to kill you today! Sooner or later I will catch you and cut off your head the way David did to Goliath.”
People who saw me running at that speed understood that something was wrong. “Pablo, why are you running so fast? Is there any problem?”
“Juan is behind me. He wants to kill me just because I advised him to stop drinking too much and beating his wife!” I shouted while continuing to run.
Everyone in the village knew me well because I often advised people and helped families solve their problems. Because of this good reputation, they decided to gather at the corner of my street to protect me.
I ran straight into my house and found my two children, Elena and her younger sister. “My life is in danger,” I told them. “Hide at your aunt’s house. Hurry! I will join you with your mother. I must meet her at the farm right now.”
They hugged me and began to cry. “Stop crying,” I said. “Be brave and protect your sister. Leave now, or Juan may harm you.”
“Daddy, why does Juan want to kill us?”
“There’s no time,” I replied, “please, hurry up and I will join you very soon.”
I then used the back door and ran to the farm to warn my wife.
My wife noticed right away there was something wrong. She droped her hoe and ran to me immediately and hugged me tightly.
“Our lives are in danger,” I said. “We have to go and hide at my sister’s house. The children are already there. I will explain everything when we arrive.”
It was evening when we reached my sister’s house. When I was certain my family was safe, I decided to return to Granadilla Street to see what had happened.
A group of villagers sat before my house. “Pablo,” they said, “Juan tried to attack us when he realized we were protecting you. Things took a turn for the worse. Eduardo took him to the hospital in his car. It’s not looking good. But we couldn’t allow him to hurt us.”
I nodded and walked back to my sister’s house to inform my family. I cried on my way there; I cried for Juan, and for his wife and unborn child. In the end, he was still my friend. Was there anything I could have done differently? At least I hadn’t given up on him, like so many others had done. But there was nothing left to do anymore now, I feared the hope for change was gone forever.
