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Alhamdulillah!

Chapter Five: A Marriage

By Rhett Alexander HamiltonPublished 3 years ago 19 min read
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Chapter Five

A Marriage

I

Hosea stood on the Florence balcony, staring at the golden ring he adorned under the Italian sunrise. He was wealthy, famous, married, and had been around the world in the fourteen months he had been away from Moriah.

“Hosea? Can you come in here? Please?” a soft-spoken voice came from inside the presidential suite.

Salome held a white piece of plastic in her hands.

“Yes?” he asked.

“I’m pregnant.”

His eyes brightened, he picked her up in her arms and twirled her around the room.

Salome looked like a queen, above him, and nothing could ever compare.

“We are going to have a family!” she exclaimed.

“That’s so wonderful,” he said, kissing her on her sweet lips. “I’m so proud of you, Salome!”

He placed her back on the stone floor of the extravagant room, “Well, I believe it was a team effort,” she joked.

Hosea smiled once again and kissed her on the lips.

II

Salome slowly dapped her paintbrush on a small amount of white acrylic paint and gently moved it up on the stretched canvas. She had a pack of cigarettes, an assortment of drinks, and a tomato sandwich mixed inside of all the paint tubes, rags, and silver-plated champagne bowl. After the paintbrush had lost its amount of acrylic white, Salome dipped it inside of the dirty water in the champagne bowl.

She could never get over the feeling of paint on her hands or the smell of turpentine. After about an hour of painting, she held onto the triangular cut sandwich with her multi-coloured hands, bit into it, and smiled while doing a little dance.

The painting had already been commissioned for over $20,000 – a number she never thought possible. Salome had a two-year showcase schedule with some of the most acclaimed galleries and museums in the world.

She stood and stepped over the plates, paints, rags, and dirty champagne bucket with her pedicured bare feet and stepped through the elegant Florence suite. The room was trimmed in thick golden accents with historically painted murals covering every inch of the walls.

Salome pushed behind the thick curtain and autographed her name on the wall with the small amount of paint on her brush. She smiled proudly at her signature and made her way to the other end of the curtain, through the main forum, and into the bedroom. She pulled Etrog and Lulav from her wooden violin case and began to play a few Mozart refrains, looking out brightly lit city.

Everything in her life was perfect. She had no wants or needs, she felt secure and completely happy.

After a few minutes of playing her violin and studying the large canvas, she thought of something to add and quickly traded Etrog and Lulav with her paintbrush.

She stepped back inside of her little realm and began painting again. She stayed inside of the painting, making every mistake work to her benefit, and creating an image far more spectacular than imagined. She was pulled back into reality at the ringing of doorbell chimes playing above her.

Salome stepped gently to the door, hoping no loose paint had followed her and opened it with her multi-coloured hand.

“Hello?” she asked the hotel’s staff member, pushing her hair back, and leaving a long red line down to her shoulders.

The staff member smiled and pushed a cart into the suite with a silver platter and chilled bottles. “Your lunch is served, ma’am,” the member said, then kneeled and made her way back out of the suite.

Salome thanked her and closed the door. She turned and walked over and took the lid from the platter – handmade pasta with a white ragù of guinea fowl and taggiasche olives.

“I’m going to be such a fat pregnant woman,” she giggled to herself.

Salome checked the chilled bottles when she saw the label Blue Dream. “How haven’t I had this yet?” she asked herself. She thought about how strict Hosea had been at the wedding, telling everyone to not let her near it.

“It’s just a drink. I could go to any auction and purchase a bottle. But looks like our big fancy room comped us,” she held the small 20-ounce bottle in her paint-covered hand and read the label. When she saw the two words she was looking for, “Non-Alcoholic,” she twisted off the lid and held it to her nose.

It smelled like death.

Salome clenched her fist and held it to her lips, holding back the dry heaves and spit.

“How could anybody drink this?!” she said aloud as she walked to the sink and poured it down the drain.

“I’m sorry, Hosea. I think the product that’s made our family wealthy beyond measure is disgusting,” she laughed and watched the bottle empty into the drain, “I’m such a horrible wife.” Salome pushed the cart to her little painting realm, picked up the platter, and poured a glass full of sparkling water – then fell, once again, back into the world of the canvas.

III

The finished 179.0 (h) x 410.4 (w) cm abstract canvas shined bright upon the gallery’s wall. Salome looked up at it proudly. She had moved away from her realistic style and the more abstract she became, the more the critics raved her. Her belly was beginning to show, and her hips were starting to widen. Her long brown hair flowed elegantly as she walked through the crowd of future clients and present buyers of her work. They were all drinking Blue Dream and smoking cigarettes.

“There she is!” Hosea called out to her. He pulled her close and whispered into her ear, “You’ve made about $250,000 tonight. Good job, sweetheart.”

Salome smiled and kissed him on the lips, when she noticed a group of men standing around them. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Hosea said after the kiss. “Gentlemen, this is Salome. The queen in my life and the woman of the night.”

“How do you do?” a man asked as he shook her hand.

“Quite well, thank you,” Salome said.

“These men are going to bring Blue Dream to every serving soldier we have. Isn’t that right, boys?” Hosea asked.

“That’s our hope,” a man answered excitedly, holding a blue glass high for a toast.

Salome smiled and asked, “Wait, auction houses have almost all first dibs on Blue Dream.”

“That’s exactly the point! It was never meant to be a first-class exclusive item!” the man that shook her hand earlier exclaimed while holding his blue glass high.

“We are going to build portable factories and make the drink accessible to every soldier, original price – no ridiculous resale!” Hosea told Salome as he pulled a glass flask from his coat pocket. The flask was filled with a deep blue liquid and he gave it her.

She wanted to walk away from them and hand him back the flask. She couldn’t imagine taking a sip of the horrible drink. Hosea leaned into her and whispered, “Don’t worry.”

She toasted with the men and held the drink to her nose. She knew the smell, taking her back to Samaria’s. It was Curacao.

Salome felt relieved and drank half the flask then gave it to Hosea for him to finish off.

They excused themselves from the group and made their rounds around her gallery exhibit. “Why can’t I drink it?” she asked.

“Trust me, I can’t stomach the stuff anymore either,” he leaned in and answered.

Salome couldn’t help but find it a little humorous. “Why on earth would you make a drink you don’t like?” she said as she looked out into the happy crowd. “Look at everyone. Look at them consuming your product. Don’t you see the peculiarity in its creator having a flask of Curacao, to trick everyone into thinking he’s also consuming his creation?”

Hosea laughed. “Of course, I know how it may seem. But it’s the effect of it they all crave. You and I just don’t share their desire. Now, it’s easier for us to give them what they want – so we can get what we want.”

“Money?” Salome asked,

“Everything, sweetheart,” he said, putting his hands upon her stomach. “Everything.”

IV

Salome awoke in the middle of the night. The Oregon coast wind wrapped around the Gold Beach house. Hosea softly snored beside her as she stood from the bed, her mouth became full of spit, and she puked into the toilet. “This is the fourth time this week. I can’t wait for this to bed over,” she said softly, drying her lip with a piece of toilet paper.

Hosea came behind her and said, “Oh honey, this is the fourth time this week. I bet you can’t wait for this to be over.”

Salome turned and stared at him with owl-like precision. “Can you not?”

Hosea held up his hands and gave a quick chuckle. “What do you need me to do?”

Tears began to fall from Salome’s eyes as she whimpered, “I don’t know, Hosea. This is all your fault!”

“Oh, no!” Hosea chuckled again as he kneeled and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. “You’re not going to be like that! I’ll make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Maybe even a cup of chamomile tea? You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Salome’s face was completely drenched in sweat, red and fragile. Her hair was dampened and in a complete mess. She relaxed her agitation and said, “Thank you, Hosea…really,” before puking in the bowl.

“Hey, you’re my wife and you’re bearing our child! I want to do the best I can for you both. I love you,” Hosea professed then stood and made the sandwich and tea.

When the episode had ended, Salome and Hosea held each other upon the bed. She felt incredibly warm to him, her cool brown hair laid beneath her. They both had their hands on her stomach, feeling the baby kick and move around.

“What do you think it is?” she asked with her head resting upon his shoulder.

“I want to say…. a girl,” Hosea said, moving his hand over her navel.

“You think so?” she asked and smiled wide.

Hosea laughed and replied, “I don’t have a clue.”

“I’d be happy if it was a girl. Would you?” she asked.

“I’d love it if we had a baby girl,” he answered and kissed her upon her temple.

“Shiloh,” she said with a smile.

“Shiloh,” he spoke into the darkness.

He leaned over to the edge of the bed and reached for his guitar. It was beginning to show wear and tear, having been across the world amongst endless stages and performances. The pearl inlays had lost its rich shimmer, the frets had lost their thickness, and pick scars scratched the once immaculate black coating.

He laid down with his shoulder pressed against Salome’s warm body and began playing a new song.

A song for Shiloh.

Salome fell asleep to the sweet tune of Hosea strumming and humming, occupied by the angelic singing of the wind against the house.

V

The factories were built in overseas poor cities near the U.S. Army bases and their allies, bringing employment to locals, and saturating the area with demand for Blue Dream.

The beverage remained cheap and shipped in high quantity, so every soldier would be able to drink it to their heart’s content. Local taverns where soldiers would spend their money were doing away with their alcoholic beverages and exchanging them for crisp blue bottles.

As the war began to intensify, Blue Dream had become more and more prominent. Adversaries were finding solitude and peace amongst enemy lines, being met with a glass instead of a gun.

This angered the American public, feeling it as a betrayal for the immense distribution across international shores, while it remained limited and scarce domestically. Newspapers, television channels, and magazines were calling out for equal treatment, demanding the company make its American supply a priority.

When Hosea received the phone call, urgently needing his decision, he smiled from ear to ear and replied, “Give them what they want.”

He hung up the phone and walked into the master bedroom of their two-story New York suite. Salome was sitting under the cosmetic lights, brushing her hair with a solid gold comb.

Salome saw him in the reflection of the large antique mirror and handed him the comb. He sat beside her on the white leather bench, placed a handful of her elegant brown hair in his hand, and gently stroked the comb through the strands.

“What is it?” she asked, feeling his uneasiness in the way he brushed.

Hosea sat there quietly, deep in thought, slowly brushing and slightly pulling on her hair.

Salome began putting on her makeup. She was over six months pregnant and beginning to have a hot flash. Slightly agitated, but not with anger, Salome spoke, “Why must you always be so mysterious? I’m your wife, for God’s sake, and I can’t ever get a read on you.”

Hosea remained brushing her hair, still in thought. But calmly and as he placed another handful of hair in his hands, he spoke softly, “We’re billionaires.”

Salome turned, with an oval foundational makeup brush in her hand, looked at Hosea with a symphony of emotions displayed upon her face. “Oh…..” she said, almost terrified by the statement.

A piece of Salome wanted to run away from it all, go back to Tennessee, and serve Old Fashioned drinks to her regulars. The same piece missed her little apartment with the stained hardwood floors and unsold canvases.

Now, she was married, pregnant, an acclaimed artist, seen the world, and wealthy beyond what she had ever imagined. It was as if the final piece of her youth had finally peeled away. She knew everything was going to change and a piece of her wanted to cling onto her past as the sands of time fell through her fingers.

She looked into Hosea’s gazing eyes and kissed him. “To be honest with you, Hosea, I’m absolutely terrified. But I love you.. I believe in you... and I’m so proud of you! Whatever this means for us, I’m happy we are getting to do this together.”

Hosea kissed her. “We are going to change the world together.”

“As long as we are sitting in a couple rocking chairs, with our teeth in a cup, and telling each other ‘we made it’ at the end, I’ll be happy.”

Hosea smiled and turned Salome around; she continued putting on her makeup and he continued brushing her hair. They sat there in silence, calm and happy.

“Hosea?” Salome said softly, in a way he had already known was in the manner of a future request.

“Yes, my love?” he said, awaiting her demand.

“Shiloh is giving me some major heartburn problems. Would you please go and get me my heartburn medication?”

“Where is it at?” he asked with a smile.

“It’s…already packed in the suitcase,” she said slyly and with as much charisma she could muster.

Hosea laughed. “There it is. There’s the hurdle.”

Salome laughed in return. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t so brutal.”

“Can’t fight what the body wants,” he said as he stood and made his way to the packed luggage – which awaited their departure downstairs in the foyer of the large suite.

VI

The couple flew across the world to celebrate the opening of the largest Blue Dream factory developed yet, in a small village on the outskirts of Paris.

The accompanying soldiers and citizens treated Salome and Hosea as the most important people that had ever lived, in competition to Christ and God Himself. They were worshipped and subliminally crowned – everything capsulated in two entities, constructed to serve humanity and its brokenness.

A blue drink created to serve the broken souls and served in an economic size was all that was needed to bring such an astronomic viewpoint of Hosea and Salome. No one could touch them, and no one dared.

They sat inside of large office in the corner of the renovated fish market warehouse. Salome looked through the incredible windows, staring at the machines that filled the countless intricate glass bottles with the bright blue liquid.

“It’s incredible isn’t it?” Hosea asked, standing above her, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently rubbing them.

“Everyone drinks it like it’ll solve all their problems,” she said, placing her hand upon his and squeezing them.

“It gives them faith in me,” he said.

“You mean it bewitches them into having faith in you,” she turned and looked into his eyes. “Whoever you are.”

“I’m your husband,” Hosea said. He held her paint-stained ring finger and they stared upon the large diamond ring. “And I’m the one that’s going to put a crown upon your head.”

“At what cost?” she pulled him upon the ornate red velvet couch and held him in her arms.

Hosea placed his hands upon Salome’s stomach and could feel Shiloh move. “What everything of value costs – the price of Salvation,” he answered and kissed her softly on the brim of her thick eyebrow.

Later that night, Salome woke to an empty bed in the exquisite hotel suite, with an incredible thirst, and while she was awake, she saw no harm in eating a pickle. “I’d kill for some pancakes right now,” she said quietly as she opened the bedroom door and made her way to the kitchen.

She stopped and noticed Hosea sitting on the couch, with only the exterior light from the city dimly illuminating the room. “Honey?” she spoke but received no answer.

He must be asleep, she thought and silently walked to the kitchen. She retrieved a chilled bottle of water and a pickle from the jar, wrapped it in a napkin, then walked back to Hosea, hoping to wake him and have him come to bed. She walked in front of him and he saw he had his guitar in his hands. “Hosea?” she said, hoping to wake him up.

No response.

She put down the water and pickle and placed her hands on his shoulders. Once they touched his body, Salome could hear the most beautiful music she ever heard. It was smooth, intoxicating, and new. It didn’t play sonically, but only in her mind, as if the chords were constructed the moment she touched him. But, even though the music adorned her, she felt a strange panic attack – as if her body was being thrown against jagged rocks and thrown below violent waves.

Salome knew the moment she took away her hand, the music would cease as well as the panic attack. But a part of her refused to; a part of her wished for it to never go away. It felt like a sacrifice for beauty, one she was willing to make for the cause of such an intrinsic and resonating energy.

Then she felt a small stream of liquid fall from her, down her legs, and onto the floor.

Hosea awoke to see Salome with her hands on him and looking down. They both looked into each other’s eyes and she said, “I…I think my water just broke.”

VII

Her hands clenched around his tightly as she pushed Shiloh into the world.

Before the cord was cut, they placed Shiloh in Salome’s arms for their first skin-to-skin contact, eternally bonding them. Her beautiful brown hair was drenched in sweat and Hosea looked at her as if she was the most powerful being in existence, standing high upon a mountain, holding the sacred child in her arms.

Once the nurse-midwife cleaned the vernix and blood off Shiloh, her breathing was established, she was measured and weighed, and was injected with Vitamin K, she was placed back into Salome’s arms to cuddle and bring her warmth.

Hosea had never been in the presence of such beauty and grace. He was lost for words, drowning in Shiloh’s splendor.

Shiloh was his greatest accomplishment and he had never loved anything more dearly.

When they both were asleep, Hosea stood and made his way to the bathroom. After the door closed behind him, he fell to the ground and began to weep. He sobbed hard and loudly, clenching his teeth and fists.

The dark presence hovered above him as he laid upon the cold tiled floor in the fetal position. “What’s wrong with you? You’re almost there, now you will receive whatever you desire.”

Hosea remained sobbing on the floor, his skin turning red and his tears burning his skin.

“You were never going to be that child’s father, Hosea,” the dark presence spoke over him. “No child of Moriah has a paternal figure.”

“I know!” Hosea screamed. “I just didn’t think it would be like this! I didn’t think I would become intimate with anyone here!”

“You could have chosen a one-night stand in a random bar, Hosea. But you didn’t! You chose her. You chose to make this difficult and if you turn your back on finishing your Harvest, you will lose everything you’ve spent so much of your pathetic time on. You only have one more task, Hosea. Don’t make the wrong decision here.”

“You’re asking for too much,” Hosea wiped his tears off his face with the palms of his hands and sat against the wall of the empty bathroom.

“I am the only guiding light you have, you ungrateful scion!” the dark presence thickened and darkened the room. “No matter what you choose, you will lose them! Finish this!” the dark presence shouted then vanished and the light from the bathroom illuminated brightly.

Hosea held his downcast head in his hands, knowing what he must do.

He stood from the cold hard floor, walked to the sink, cooled his face, and dried it with a paper towel. He looked into the mirror and watched the redness leave his face. He gave himself a small smile to see if it seemed realistic then walked back to Salome.

He leaned in and kissed Salome, who was sound asleep in the hospital bed. The kiss woke up Salome, she reached out to him to hold his hand, and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” he whispered and kissed her on the forehead.

“Elated, exhausted, emotionally drained…” she said while closing her eyes, “…and bloated.”

Hosea laughed and a tear fell from his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Salome. You brought a human being into this world.”

“She has your eyes,” she said with the baby’s eyelids closed. “But she has my nose – thank God!”

Hosea felt a large ball in his throat, knowing he was about to ruin everything they had built – their marriage, their careers, their family, and her trust. “I’ll always love you, Salome.”

“Me too,” she said before falling into a deep sleep.

Hosea then called a number and waited beside her while stroking her long brown hair for the last time. Then in the loneliest and darkest hour of the night, he picked up Shiloh into his arms, walked out of the hospital, got into a black limousine, and vanished.

science fiction
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About the Creator

Rhett Alexander Hamilton

On a treasure excursion, in the deep forests of Fiji, a local had entrusted me with a magical emerald pen - leading me to become one of the most prominent writers in American literature.

Pseudonyms: Alexander (Adult) and Ana Mercer (Y/A)

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