Ruth: Reimagined

Birthmark

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Birthmark
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You're making a mistake father, Ruth had said, and staring at his deformed, dead daughter, the words echoed on in his mind. Over and over again.

Barak despised the essence of who he was. When he couldn't bear the sight of Ruth, he looked away, but then his gaze flitted to Adira.

Adira who's eyes seemed to have frozen in a state of shock, as she silently cried. That too was unbearable.  He was reminded of what he'd done to his wife. The ritual he had performed so she could bend to his will. Something she would never know of, unless he told her, which he wasn't planning on doing. Ever. He couldn't lose anyone else. All of it came to this.

The death of Ruth.

“It will not be real.” Adira  had croaked out that night. “ know this Barak that you can make me forget but everything after that will be fake. I have never been more disgusted with anyone in my life. You disgust me. I—”

Barak cried. His sobs filled the room, and he was glad Eglon had given them space to mourn.

"Ruth can't be dead." Adira finally spoke, her voice straining. "I would have felt it." She said, softer. "I would have felt it here..."she beat her chest, eyes watering.

"My love..." Barak spoke," don't torture yourself. Unfortunately this is Ruth. Look, she's wearing the anklet I gave her that night at—"

"Don't tell me what to think." Adira snapped, her eyes shut, and she covered her ears with her hands.

Barak's eyes widened. " I wasn't trying to..." his breath caught in his throat.

Adira continued to silently cry, her head spinning. This was not possible.  First her mother, now Ruth her daughter.

How could this be?

Yet still, there was something in her, something so powerful, it spoke past the rushing waves of emotions, that told her Ruth was alive.

In a flash, her mind took her to the day Ruth was born. How after seconds of yearning for her baby girl, the woman brought her to her,  wrapped in a white cloth. She cradled her baby girl in her arms, her heart completely enamoured by the beauty she was beholding, her soul in a sense, felt whole, like there was always something missing and Ruth was that thing.

In no time, the baby was wailing, and Adira sang a lullaby, one her mother taught her. Little Ruth kicked at her little feet, and Adira had laughed through her tears.  All the women in the room, cooing at the sight.

Then she saw on her right foot a birthmark. The shape of a teardrop, no, a diamond, a heart. It was a heart, looking as though it was carved out of wood. Adira kissed her baby's little feet, and that is when her eyes fluttered open, and that second on, Adira was welcomed into a whole new world.

Adira gasped, and with no explanation towards Barak. She pulled out the woman's shoes, and she checked underneath her right foot. There lay no mark.

A cry of relief tore out of her chest, Adira held her chest, crying. "I know my daughter...I know my daughter."

Willing herself to be strong, she calmed herself and turned to Barak, wiping her tears.

"Wipe those tears Barak,"she'd said, strengthening her voice. "This is not our daughter."

"Adira," Barak said, a soft chiding expression on his face.

Adira shook her head. "The birthmark of a heart. It's not on her foot. Come see."