The Ineffable Ruth Rhodes

02 grief

ruth

Ruth Rhodes started going by Liora at age 15, exactly three years after she lost the light of her life.

Her sister, Liora, was breathtaking. It was as though her name made her so; she was stunning, with the brightest smile and the kindest heart, there wasn't one person who met her and disliked her. Whenever Ruth would hear the phrase 'be the light of the world,' she'd think of her sister, shining brightly beside her, because that was who she was.

So when Liora was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got into an accident, it felt like her world had been spun on its axis and the stars no longer shone. She cried every single day for months— she'd wake up, and then remember her sister was gone forever and then she'd cry and she'd throw things and refuse to leave the house.

It was sick, she thought. It was vile and sick and evil— why did it have to be her? She kept asking herself. Why? It should've been me.

When Ruth's father was let go from his job, and her distant family member died, and a close family friend moved away, and her older sister had her scholarship revoked and didn't get to go to university when she wanted, Ruth realized it really was just her.

Ruth.

Ruth.

Grief.

Ruth thought it was like the plague, the way it followed her everywhere.

She had so much self depreciation in her, so much she blamed herself for although none of it was her fault. It wasn't that she'd grown up without love, or she was neglected. It was simply because sometimes, and too often, love wasn't always enough.

She remembered her mother sitting her down one day, telling her, "Ruth has two meanings. You get to choose which one rules your life."

Then Ruth met Remy.

As if her life couldn't worsen in her eyes, she added another regret onto her list, as Remy was her biggest.

He was tall and smart, soft green-hazel eyes with honey skin and dirt brown hair that was unbelievably soft to the touch. His eyes were mesmerizing, holding so much warmth within a simple glance, and when he smiled, oh when he smiled, and his eyes crinkled into crescents— it'd been the reason she noticed him in the first place. When he smiled at her, she thought maybe everything would be alright, and maybe she'd found her home.

And like all good things, Ruth messed it up too.

It was the day they were meant to go out for a movie after school, when he'd stopped her in the halls before class and blurted out three words.

"I love you, Ruth," he'd told her, holding her hands as his eyes turned to crescents, "Do you love me?"

Ruth thought many things at that moment, and all of them ended on one conclusion. So she said, "No." She'd removed her hands from his. "I'm sorry, I don't." Believe me, she thought. Please believe me.

And he did.

"You know what the problem with you is?" he'd asked, raising his voice at her for the first time, and pointing a finger.

I can think of a few, she thought, scrunching her brows as a crowd materialized.

"You don't like yourself," he said, "So you can't even fathom the idea that someone else might love you."

Ruth's mouth had snapped shut, and the room seemed to spin at his words hanging awkwardly in the air. She wanted to yell at him, to tell him he was wrong, and he didn't know what he was talking about.