A Glass of Beautiful

conclusion of a near-future story by Presley Acuna

In part 1, we are introduced to a world overcome by emotion and reality-altering beverages. Think energy drinks but on steroids and without the kidney stones and jitters. Anyway, part 2 is here! And it’s high time to find out what’s up with Bonnie and Sam.

Content warning: Sexuality, substance abuse, some language

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Photo by Rene Böhmer on Unsplash

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A Glass of Beautiful (part 2 of 2)

by Presley Acuna

Bonnie got the part, though throwing up on the stage and passing out was not the demonstration of talent she had planned. The Director and his assistants fell off their chairs with laughter, not believing the sheer courage and charm this young actress portrayed.

“So original!”

“So daring!”

“The sky’s the limit with this woman!”

“A physical comedienne for the ages!”

“And a looker, too!”

Bonnie and Sam celebrated her success that night by drinking even more Happy and Hopeful, and topping it off with a glass of Beautiful for Bonnie and Handsome for Sam. That night, they practically devoured each other in the sack, not believing the sheer perfection of their lover and the positive energy that radiated out from both of them. They screwed each other into unconsciousness, smiling all the while.

In the morning, Sam woke up first, nursing a pounding headache and a minor bout of heartburn. Must be all the sugar in those Four Humors drinks, he thought. He headed to the fridge and grabbed a can of Happy. That always helped. Best to drink one before his mind started waking up and thinking dark thoughts.

He knew they were there. He had plenty of reasons for them. His life was at a standstill. It had been weeks since he had done any laundry or cleaned his apartment, and his solution to running out of clean clothes was to simply online-order more clothes! The apartment was filthy, smelled of bodies, and was increasingly buried under piles of package wrappings and food containers. Sam felt the rise of happy feeling within him and brushed it all aside, proceeding through his morning routine of getting ready for work. He peaked into the bedroom before leaving and saw Bonnie’s prone form, her long, curvy legs splayed and tangled amongst the sheets, and blew her a silent kiss. Life was good.

At the office, Sam waved and nodded at his colleagues as he made his way to his cubicle. Some of them responded in kind, but others just shook their heads and moved on.

“Look who decided to come to work today!” said Charles, the stuffy elder statesman of the dotcom team. “To what do we owe the honor? Is it payday?”

Everyone within earshot broke into loud laughter, making Sam feel uncomfortable, but just for a second. “Charles must be drinking his fair share of Funny,” thought Sam as he shrugged and smiled sheepishly. He sat down at his desk and shuffled papers and folders around, trying to make sense of it all. He really didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing these days. Just then, the phone rang.

“Yes, this is Sam.”

“Sam, Angelo. Can you come to my office?”

Sam felt a tinge of trepidation that cut right through the sunny glow of Happy. This might be bad.

“Sure, Ange. Be right there.”

On the way to his boss’s office, Sam stopped at the vending machines, bought himself a can of Talented, and chugged it, remembering Bonnie’s performance.

#

Angelo sat in his desk chair, wondering how to deliver the bad news to Sam. Sam had never been a rock star, but he had always been a reliable meat and potatoes analysist. Angelo had enough Prima Donnas in the company, and Sam, in that respect, was kind of a relief to deal with. Then one day, Sam’s job performance had started to show an uptick. Sam had seemed to be happy about something. Maybe a new girlfriend? Who knew? Who cared? All Angelo knew was that a somewhat deadpan employee was newly upbeat and was bringing a new enthusiasm to his work. But as time went on, he witnessed Sam losing focus. He became unreliable. He didn’t appear to register the risks or consequences of his increasingly irresponsible behavior in the office. He wasn’t the only one going off the rails, but he was by far the worst of the lot. It had to be those soft drinks from Four Humors. Angelo resolved to ban them from the office vending machines.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come,” said Angelo and Sam stepped in the office. “Take a seat.”

“What’s up, boss? New Project?”

Angelo looked up sharply at Sam, not believing he could be so oblivious. But suddenly out of nowhere he had the realization that he had might actually have a firecracker in Sam. Why hadn’t he seen that before? The kid just needed to get through whatever phase he was going through. Sam Anders was exuding sheer potential.

“Uh, yeah, Sam. New Project.”

#

Summer turned to Fall, and Bonnie’s play was proceeding apace. Her rehearsal schedule was picking up, and she found herself away from Sam more and more as the production barreled towards its debut during the Holiday season. She drank a glass of Talented every day and sometimes more than once a day. She had started to notice that her understudy, Karinne, seemed to be capturing the attention of her Director. Bonnie was sure she was downing rivers of Talented too, and it became a kind of Tete-a-Tete between the two of them over who could drink more Talented in a single rehearsal. Drinking so much sugar was causing Bonnie to gain weight, but that was nothing another glass of Beautiful couldn’t solve.

That evening, back in Sam’s apartment, the two lovers made love, as was their habit, as the news blared from the wall-mounted bedroom TV.

“In today’s Breaking News, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has declared that this year’s Oscars will be postponed due to the Jurists’ inability to pick any winners. Every entry has been given top scores and there’s an across-the-board tie for the winner in every category. It’s an unprecedented situation!”

Sam looked up from his prone position, registering the sound bite. “Isn’t that something?” Sam felt a jolt of concern cut through the cloud of contentment he had been swimming in.

Bonnie looked down at Sam, saw the reflection of the TV screen dancing in his eyes in miniature. She sighed and swept her hair to one side, lifting herself off of Sam’s body. “I guess I have your attention.”

Sam glanced at her, noting her sarcastic tone, and shook his head dismissively, “Come on, Bon. This is weird shit.”

Bonnie shifted and sat upright on the bed, looking for the cannabis pipe on the night table. “Yeah, it is. But who cares?”

Sam frowned. “You should care. The entire planet is turning into a popularity contest. It’s like Warhol’s 15 minutes of fame for real. Everyone is famous now. Everyone is funny or charming or talented…”

Bonnie laughed, lighting the pipe and handing it to Sam after taking a couple of puffs. “Or handsome or beautiful. And don’t forget the classics: happy and hopeful.”

Sam waved it away. He was suddenly feeling sober and had the thought that maybe he liked that. “How much more of this joyfulness can the human race take, Bon? Should we stop drinking this Four Humors stuff?”

Bonnie raised an eyebrow at Sam. “You can if you want to, farm boy, but I’m not changing a thing. As long as Karinne…”

Sam sat up now, annoyed, and shifted himself so he was facing Bonnie. “That’s just it, Bon. You’re abusing the stuff to get something you want. At all costs. Everyone is abusing it. It’s like we’re all living in a candy-coated fantasy land, while in reality the world is still melting down all around us.”

“The opiate of the people. Right, farm boy?”

Sam fumed and got up from the bed. “Screw you, Bon. Maybe Bon Bon is the best name for you. You’re a confection. A walking, talking sugar high.”

Bonnie’s brow furrowed and she pursed her lips, digesting the sour commentary. “No, Sam. You just don’t get it.” She swung her legs off the bed and padded over to the bathroom. Without looking back at Sam she muttered. “I think this party’s over.”

Sam walked around the bed to Bonnie’s side and followed her. Bonnie shut the bathroom door in Sam’s face, but Sam was on a roll. “Maybe it’s good for you to start thinking like that. You always act like life’s a party that never stops. You never think about the consequences of what you do. Even before Four Humors came along you were like that. It gets old, Bonnie. One day it’s going to bite you, and you won’t know what to do.”

Silence from the other side of the bathroom door. Sam waited, expecting an outburst but there was nothing. He finally tried the door, and found it unlocked. Bonnie was there but not putting on make-up or brushing her teeth as he had expected. She was sitting on the edge of the tub, crying.

“Bon, I…”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“I think I need some Happy.” She looked up at him glassy-eyed.

Sam felt a moment of pity, but it was quickly washed away by a more potent feeling. Disgust.

“You need happiness, not Happy. Think about it,” said Sam, and he turned to leave.

“Sam, wait!”

Sam went straight to the kitchen, found 3 cans of Happy sitting on the top shelf, and grabbed them. He took them to the window, opened it and hurled all three into the air. They arced across the sky, then trajectoried to the ground and crashed onto the curb, exploding on contact. People looked up and waved. Someone clapped. Sam shook his head in amazement and shut the window. He started heading back to the bedroom but was cut off by Bonnie, who was now fully dressed and heading to the front door. She brushed past Sam and opened the door.

“I don’t know about this anymore,” said Bonnie, drying her eyes with one hand. And then she was gone.

The next day was final rehearsals for “Moto Lesbians of Lemuria,” and Bonnie was awash in Charming and Talented. Her head swam with confidence and exhilaration. She looked at the rest of the cast who were distributed around the stage and could easily tell who was Humored. Karinne was there too, dressed in the same costume as Bonnie and sparkling with good looks and acting potential. The two women looked each other up and down and felt a certain competitive arousal. Bonnie realized that Talented and Charming worked on everyone, even people who were also drinking it.

“Hi, gorgeous,” said Karinne, sidling up to Bonnie with a salubrious sashay of her curvaceous hips.

“Hi, beautiful,” answered Bonnie through hooded eyelids, feeling her cheeks grow hot. They could really do a number on each other, she realized.

“Break a leg, OK?” said Karinne.

“Ha ha. You too! In fact, break two!” answered Bonnie.

The cast proceeded to go through their paces, following the blocking guidelines as dictated by the script, and speaking their lines. Then the play came to the first musical number, featuring Bonnie in the lead role of Darndarella, just before she boards the doomed ocean liner. Bonnie stepped onto the gangplank, turned to face the audience, and belted out the first notes of her number.

“If there was another way to go….” sang Bonnie, extending an arm towards the cavernous seating area.

“I would have done it long ago!” answered a bell-like voice from behind the stage. Bonnie’s entire body twitched in surprise over the intrusion. Then from the left wing emerged Karinne, also in character as Darndarella. Karinne strode confidently towards the gangplank and shoved Bonnie over a few inches so the two of them stood side by side, barely fitting onto the narrow wooden platform. Karinne smiled a sinister smile and belted out the next line.

“But that ship sailed the day you left me…” she warbled, but before she could finish, Bonnie joined in so that now there were two Darndarellas belting out the lines of her soliloquy in direct competition with each other.

Bonnie and Karinne proceeded to duel over the lines of the song, progressively singing more and more loudly and trying to shove each other off the ramp as the Director and his production team watched in slack-jawed wonderment.

“This is incredible.”

“They’re both so talented.”

“Maybe we should rewrite this so there’s two female leads.”

Just then Karinne gave Bonnie one more shove, only this time putting her foot in front of Bonnie’s ankle. Bonnie fell from a relative height, since they had been climbing the gangplank inch by inch with each dueling line of song and shove of hip. Bonnie hit hard and dislocated her shoulder, crying out in pain.

“Cut!” yelled the Director as production crewmembers rushed to Bonnie’s aide. Karinne watched from the top of the gangplank, fists on her hips, and a grim smile on her face.

“Showtime is tomorrow, Bill. Guess we’re going with Karinne,” said his Production Assistant.

The Director nodded, running his hand over his head and through his hair. “Yeah, looks that way. There was no time to rewrite the whole thing for two female leads anyway.”

#

Sam sat despondently on his sofa and clicked his way through the various news channels. He paused for a moment, reaching for his glass of Happy, when the news program cut to a station break. And there filling the screen was the magnificently coiffed Dr. Janice Kimera, clad in a lab coat and holding up a can of Whimsical, the latest new flavor in the growing line of Four Humors health supplement beverages.

“What would life be without whims and whimsies?” asked Janice with a wink of her deeply mascaraed eyes. The scene cut to images of people doing things like jumping off overpasses onto passing pickup trucks filled with bubble wrap, or lining up behind jet planes about to takeoff so as to be blown off the ground by the jet exhaust. “Put on your crazy today with a splash of Whimsical!” Janice continued. An image of a can of Whimsical filled the screen to the sound of people laughing gleefully.

Sam put down his glass of Happy and gave it a hard look. He turned to the other side of the sofa and picked up his laptop. Placing it on his lap, he opened the lid and re-read the e-mail that had arrived in his inbox that morning.

“Separation Notice” was the subject of the e-mail. Sam had been fired by e-mail. He had stopped going to the office, by and large, and routinely didn’t answer his phone, especially if it was an annoying work call, leaving his employer with no choice but to do the dirty deed by e-mail. No amount of Four Humors Talented could save him if he never showed his face, and just when he had started to realize the folly of his ways, after his blow up with Bonnie, the coin had dropped and there was nothing Sam could do about it. He had used up all his excuses and entreaties for second chances from Angelo.

He reached for the Happy and downed it, tears streaming from his eyes.

Later that day, Sam received a call from Mt. Fiore Hospital about Bonnie. She had him listed as an emergency contact. The voice on the phone informed him that she had been in an accident and had been treated for her injuries. She was under observation and would be released at the end of the day.

“Wait, when did this happen?” asked Sam, incredulously, sitting up straight.

The voice on the phone cleared its throat and continued, “This morning, Mr. Anders, at the Majestic, during a rehearsal. We’re told she stepped off a high platform and fell 15 feet to the stage floor.”

“And you’re only getting around to telling me about it now? Do her parents know?”

“They are on their way to the hospital but they live several states away. We need someone to meet her today.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“Well… ahem… the patient did not want us to call you.” There was a pause. “But we need the bed. Sorry, Mr. Anders. Can you meet her?”

As the sun set on the city later that day, Sam was waiting in the lobby of the hospital, wondering what to say to Bonnie once she emerged. She would be needy but too proud to admit it. She would be mad at him still for his raw words from earlier that day. But she was not one to hold grudges for long, Sam told himself. She lived in the moment. Maybe it would be alright.

Bonnie was wheeled out through a set of double doors into the waiting room. She had her arm in a sling. The nurse helped her to her feet and moved the wheelchair out from under her. Bonnie turned to thank the nurse but she was already past the doors which swung shut behind her briskly. Bonnie turned to scan the room and spotted Sam, who stood up and approached her, a look of relief on his face. Bonnie looked at Sam, a blank expression on her face. Sam tried a smile to see if he could inspire one in her as well, and after a pause, she reluctantly obliged.

“Bonnie, I’m so glad you’re alright,” said Sam.

Bonnie’s smile morphed into a frown. “If you can call having my arm in a sling and losing the lead part in “Moto Lesbians” alright.”

Sam took a step closer, surprised at her unusual seriousness, and extended his hands towards her. “Bon, have some perspective…”

Bonnie brushed him away and started for the waiting room exit. “Sam, I don’t need your advice.”

Sam retorted, “Just my money every now and then, right, Bon?”

Bonnie whirled to face him, her face a stranger’s hard mask. “No. Not anymore, Sam. That won’t be happening anymore. I had a major wake-up call lying on that hospital bed.”

Sam scoffed, “And what is that? That you’re going to start to IV Happy?”

Bonnie’s cheeks flushed, and she shook her head impatiently. “No, dammit. Not anymore, Sam. And I’m not happy. In fact, it’s been years since I’ve been happy. And you know what? All those things you said to me before. You were right. I guess I should thank you for that. But you were wrong about one thing you said.”

“What did I say?” asked Sam, trying to recall.

“You said I wouldn’t know what to do, when my actions came back to bite me. Well they bit me, Sam. Except I do know what to do.”

Sam steeled himself for what she would say next.

Bonnie took a deep breath and continued, “I’m going home. When my parents get here I’m going to tell them I need to regroup and I need to get away from this crazy place.”

“And from me,” added Sam softly, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

Bonnie paused upon hearing this and her face softened, looking more like the girl Sam had loved. “No, Sam. Believe it or not, you were the best thing about being in this town. You gave me the freedom to be my looney self. I could take all the risks in the world because I knew you and your Midwest values, and your dopey idealism…”

“And what do you call your type of idealism?” retorted Sam, stung by her words.

Bonnie shrugged, “Me? Tilting at windmills.” Then, with a wistful smile, “I’m Doña Quixote.”

Sam rubbed at his arms, “Which makes me your Sancho Patsy.”

Bonnie smirked at his bit of cleverness. “Ha ha. Well, not quite like that. You were my rock, Sam. Until you started in on me. Until you started doing what you should have done from the beginning.”

“But then you wouldn’t have stayed,” Sam heard himself say, surprised at his own admission. Had he always known this?

“That’s exactly what I’ve come to realize. This whole thing has been a delusion. And not just me. You too, Sam. Everyone. We’re all living in a delusion, fueled by hopes and dreams but also evasions and excuses, made all the worse by Four Humors.”

Sam had to admit she was speaking hard truths. He suddenly knew what to do as well.

“Goodbye, Sam,” said Bonnie.

Sam snapped out of his reverie unable to believe this was actually happening. “But wait. What about your stuff?”

“Throw it out. None of it matters,” answered Bonnie. She scanned the room, hesitated for a moment, and then stepped forward, throwing her one good arm around Sam’s neck and bestowing him with a tender kiss. After a few seconds of this she broke the kiss and whispered in his ear, “So long, lover. I’m sorry for all the times I called you farm boy. Take care of yourself.”

And then she walked around him and exited the Waiting Room into the streets beyond without looking back.

Sam stood there for several long minutes, letting people maneuver around him like he was some pillar in the room. A couple of the nurses were whispering and pointing at him, looking sympathetic. He noticed them.

“It’s alright. Really. It’s totally fine. Don’t feel sorry for me.,” he said softly, not caring if they could hear him or not. Finally he propelled himself forward and left the hospital.

Upon arriving at his apartment, which he walked to from the hospital to give himself time to think, he was greeted with a letter taped to his front door with the title “NOTICE OF EVICTION” printed in bold letters on its face. Sam tore the notice off the door and read it. The landlord was giving him 5 days to vacate or the Sheriff would be coming to forcibly remove him from the apartment. Evidently he was four months behind on his rent. Sam suddenly realized that all the sordid details of running his life had become distant annoyances to him these last few months. He had built a cloud wall around himself, and now the clouds had dissipated. But really, the cloud wall had been there for some time—long before Four Humors came into the picture.

It dawned on Sam with a sinking feeling that somehow he had conspired to have no job, no girlfriend, and soon, no place to live. He couldn’t have done a better job of it if he had actually planned his self-destruction. But he also felt another emotion. It was gratitude.

#

It was Christmas season in the city, and Sam was thinking of buying some nice gifts for his parents and his new girlfriend, Florence. Putting on his expensive wool coat and faux fur hat, he decided he would walk past the holiday window displays from the Four Humors headquarters, where he was the latest Product Manager in charge of their new beverage line.

After living in a homeless shelter for a few nights, following his eviction back in the Fall, Sam began the process of bootstrapping his life anew. Being broke made it easy to break the Four Humors habit, and the more he abstained from consuming the beverage the more he realized how intoxicated the people around him had become. Everyone was on it. He began to think of himself as fortunate to have been able to shed his old life, which had been padded with his illusions and absolutions. He felt like he had molted off an old skin and was free to redefine himself any way he wanted. This led Sam to realize that he wasn’t the only one melting down his life, in all likelihood. So he began to look for opportunities. And he found them quickly enough.

Ironically, it was at Four Humors Inc., itself that the scourge that was Four Humors addiction was at its worse. People were checking out in droves. It was only because of the deluge of profits the company was enjoying that the abscesses in its staff were going unnoticed. But it eventually could not be denied any longer. Janice Kimera fired half of her team abruptly, and Sam read all about it in the morning paper. Within a month he was hired as a Marketing Analyst, but very soon thereafter was promoted into Product, once he started pitching a new product line to Dr. Kimera.

“Why don’t we try making, “Realistic”?

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Photo by Matt Hoffman on Unsplash

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Meet the author:

Presley Acuna is a writer, musician and technologist. He is an Ecuadorian-American, born and raised in New York City and currently living in Brooklyn. He writes genre fiction as well as stories based on his own life experiences.

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