Ruth: Reimagined

Pray

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Pray
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Knocking on the door of his house, at midnight, defeated, yet in a sense, strengthened, Chillion stood, sober in more ways than one.

The door was opened abruptly by a distressed Naomi. At the sight of her son, relief washed over her, but there was still a strain. Before a word was said, Chillion pulled her in for an embrace.

She held onto her son tightly. "He's alive..."she whispered to herself.  "Thank Yahweh... he's alive."

Pulling him in, Naomi shut the door behind them, and her relief quickly transformed into anger. "I swear one day you boys will give me a heart attack. Where have you been, Chillion? I've been worried sick."

The room was lit up, with a few candles, highlighting the distress and  grief on his mother's face. Knowing he would be the cause of more pain, Chillion could barely find words.

"Answer me! Do you know what was going through my mind because you weren't home yet? The worst thoughts. The worst possible thoughts a mother could have and after your father—" she couldn't bear to even complete the sentence.

"I'm sorry, mother, truly," Chillion said.

It was in his voice, in his tone, the way it broke  and caught in his throat when he tried to say  more that made her push her pain aside.

Her eyes softened, and she sighed, walking towards him. "Come, let's sit at the table."

When they were both seated, the silence surrounded them. At the table were three plates of food, covered up. Cold. His mother waited up for him. Also, there laid on the table a folded up letter.

Chillion met his mother's eyes, a failure.

"For the past few days, after work. I've gone out drinking..."

Although she didn't say anything, he saw it in her eyes, her crushed spirit.

"Drinking to forget, to numb myself, to be happy again. I wanted to stop, knowing the consequences were dire,  but I just couldn't. I couldn't –I still struggle to be sober in a world without my father."

"I've been... I've been reckless, and I'm sorry. I understand. If after what I'm about to say, you never forgive me or you..." His chest constricted.

"Today, after work, my boss told me that I was fired. I pleaded. I–he wouldn't listen, there is no love for Hebrews in the hearts of many Moabites, and now I don't have a job."

"After that, instead of coming home, I left to drink. But it was nothing more than a sip. My soul has had enough, I promise mother. I believe it's Yahweh that saved me from taking the next sip from the depth of my sin. In this place, I saw a young woman, and she was mistreated. I helped her and...she helped me. I've just come back from being with her."

"Chillion," Naomi uttered, with a certain expression on her face, caution, worry, and disappointment.

Catching her look, Chillion shook his head. "No, mother. I promise. It is not what you think."

His mind flashed to the last moment shared with Orpah, how their goodbye prolonged because none of them wanted to leave the other. His heart drummed, at the thought of asking her for a hug. In the end, he didn't even get to hold her hand, but he left with her heart, and she,  with his.

"We talked. Only. It was just talking." Chillion confessed, holding his mother's gaze, hoping she'd believed him.

Naomi nodded, a sigh escaping her lips. It seemed that her boys were falling for these moabite women, and she did not know what to do. If Elimilek were here, she thought, he'd know what to do. If Elimilek were here—