But it was already too late, at least to recover his family. Although his craft brought in better earnings and gave him more time at home, the drunkenness, increasingly frequent, ended up antagonizing everyone. His son was the first to go in search of a dream, which he found in much colder lands. His wife asked for a divorce, even though she continued living in the house, having nowhere else to go. They put up with and kept a watchful eye over each other and, according to the gossiping tongues—which there are in every village—were temporarily reconciled, until she managed to escape to a mission in the Latin American jungle, to make a little money and get something better when she returned. Even though she’d made it very clear the marriage was over, he didn’t lose hope of winning her back.
The years of loneliness have affected him greatly. Above all the lack of people to talk to, accustomed as he was to dealing with so many people, in discussions and drunken binges. When someone visited him he found it difficult to let go of the easy conversation, the stories and witticisms, that burst out like when a dammed current finds a channel of momentary relief. Sometimes, when he went out in the evenings to find material for his workshop, he ended up some place where he found drink and conversation. And once again he felt at home, amid the interminable discussions that thrive so well in the shadow of the bottle. Because he hadn’t lost the habit of saying what he thought, his fame as a crackpot rose among those who frequent these places. Others thought him provocative and informative, because they couldn’t imagine that someone who could say such things could be in the gutter. To others he was simply an old drunk. One more.
When he gets home late a worried neighbor never misses bringing him a plate of food if he’s awake, or closing the door if he’s sleeping. The next day, he wakes up in a bad way, feeling the weight of his years. This repeats for the umpteenth time though he’s already too old for these tricks, while he prepares the day’s work, which he knows from experience will be more tiring than usual. And so it continues, day after day. After so many years, the sailing ship of his youthful dreams has been reduced to fit into a tiny little vial.