Ruth: Reimagined

Ten

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Ten
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Mahlon felt it in his gut. An indescribably dread, pointed towards Ruth. The air between them shifted, carrying an unspoken truth.The pressure built day by day, and Ruth, in return, changed. She barely spoke anymore and always had a far-off look in her eyes. When she did speak, they argued, over the smallest of things.

Oneday, after a tiresome day at work, he lashed out at her.

"What happened to us, Ruth? We used to be happy! I thought you were happy with me—I thought," he shook his head, staring at her, but she kept her head down, seated on the bed.

And he went on, all night , releasing his pent up emotions, opening up, his voice cracking and straining at points, but she just sat there, numb, emotionless. Silent.

Her silence met his pain, his frustration, harshly. When he had come to the end of himself, after going on his knees, and pleading for her to open up, holding her gaze, with love and care— he stormed out of the room, in the middle of the night.

For a long time, Ruth sat on that bed.

Quiet.

The echo of his words, of his pain, cut her open, made her bleed again. Since Ruth was a young girl, it had felt like  her heart was made up of  a fountain, bursting with love, passions, desires, hopes, and dreams. Bursting, with water that overflowed to every part of her being. But now, the fountain had run dry, and the water had come to an abrupt stop.

"I have to tell him," Ruth whsipered to herself, feeling her eyes well up with tears. It seemed that pain, grief, and things such as tears and hurt were the things in her life that would never run dry.

You have to tell him, Orpah had advised her many times before.

Did Chillion take it well, Ruth had asked one time.

Is there ever a good way for a person to face the fact that they will never have children.

Ruth stepped out of her room, determined. Walking the darkened hallway in the house, her footsteps creaking against the wooden floor, she felt her heart pulse through every part of her skin.

Stepping out of the house, she spotted Mahlon seated on the porch, his head in his hands. An oil lamp lit beside him.

All the stars were covered by the clouds that filled the sky, her arms, wrapped around herself, as the wind met her, in waves.

He didn't lift his head at her entry, and  when she settled down beside him.

Drowing in the silence for a while, Ruth felt the sob, stuck in her throat.  The one she'd been holding in for months at night, while Mahlon slept beside her.

"I think you made the biggest mistake of your life, marrying me."

At first, he didn't move. Then, slowly, he lifted his head and met eyes with hers. His warm brown eyes looked tortured, conflicted, the bags under them, highlighting his distress.

"How could you say that?" Mahlon whispered. "You're one of the best things that's ever—"

"No," Ruth shook her head, eyes blurred with tears. "Stop. Just stop, Mahlon. You laid with me before you knew me. You claimed to love me, even though we'd met a couple of times, and you barely understood me. Literally, at times, with the language barriers that held up. You married me, and I thank you for that."

Mahlon scoffed, hurt flashing in his eyes.

"You thank me for that?"

"You didn't know what you were getting yourself into."