I hear a burst of noise—the clattering of a chain-link fence. Then voices, two male voices. I try to swallow, but my mouth is too dry, and my mind buzzes with activity. Prime the engine? Shout Clyde’s name? Hope it’s him?
It’s got to be him, and every second I’m doing nothin’ is another second Clyde can be caught. I flick the headlights, hold my breath, and pray it’s Clyde’s eyes that see the burst of light.
It’s sickly quiet. My chest burns for air. Two figures creep ’round a tree, and I exhale.
Clyde. I know it’s him.
A sob escapes me. I’m running toward him before I even knew I left the car. Jumping on him, I wrap both my legs ’round him, nuzzling into his neck. Cinnamon and nicotine. That scent somehow still remains, after all this time locked in a cell. Or maybe it’s my mind once again willing what I want into existence.
Clyde holds me with one hand, strokes my hair with the other, whispering my name into my ear. I was worried he wouldn’t survive, but it’s not ’til this moment that I truly grasp the danger he’s put himself in, that I’ve put him in, by giving him that gun.
When he puts me down, we’re back at the car, and Clyde gently raises my chin, kisses me. My knees go weak. I want more kisses, an endless amount of them, but another man stands beside us. I wipe the tears from my eyes, happy my plan worked, and hold out my hand toward him. “You must be Olive’s William.”
“In the flesh. But let’s do our introductions in the car, yeah?”
Clyde laughs, already jogging to the front of Big Bertha to prime the engine.
Soon we’re driving away from the prison, driving toward freedom.
William whoops in the backseat. “Holy shit, man. We did it.”
I squeeze my hands together so tightly—from nerves, from excitement—that my knuckles ache.
“How on earth did you fellas escape?” I ask.
“You tell her,” William says to Clyde. “It was your brilliant idea.”
“Not without risk to you, Will.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” There’s humor in William’s voice.
Clyde reaches over from the driver’s seat, frees my hand from my own tight grip. “We’ve got you to thank, Bonnie. Will and I had a good laugh over how you conjured this whole plan, involving his girl.”
“I’m mighty thankful, too,” William says. “Even though those guards gave me a good whop on the back of my head when Olive clung to me like a baby monkey.”
“Sorry ’bout that,” I say.
“No bother. I got a thick head.”
“Now that’s the truth,” Clyde says. “When they came ’round for roll call, those guards turned white when they saw me holding the gun to Will’s thick head.”
My jaw drops. “You did what?”
“I had to make ’em think I was going to shoot him.”
“Risky, right?” William says from the backseat. “Wasn’t sure they’d give two shits ’bout me. But Clyde here was acting like a raving lunatic, his spit flying everywhere. He made me look like a saint.”
“Eventually, they had to open our cell to save Will from me.”
“Clyde and I jumped the guards.”
“No,” I say in disbelief. “But what if—”
“It worked, Bonnie. We’re fine. I took a guard hostage and Will helped me round up all the guards. Put ’em into our cell.”
From William’s voice, I can tell he’s grinning when he says, “It’s easy to escape when there’s no one to stop ya.”
I sit there a moment, part of me in shock that they pulled it off. I lift Clyde’s hand to my lips, kiss him, noticing the bruises on his knuckles. I hate to think how they got there.
“Buck’s going to be so excited to see you,” I say. “I mean, I know you might have to lie low for a bit.”
Clyde doesn’t respond.
“You hear me?” I say, not remembering which ear is his bad one.
“Man,” William says behind me. “I ain’t looking forward to this conversation with Olive, either.”
I twist to see William better. “What do you mean by that?”
“Bonnie,” Clyde starts. “Listen. Will and I agreed we’d give ourselves an hour to say good-bye.”
Good-bye? No.
“For now,” Clyde says. “They’re going to be looking for us, and we got to get out of the state, let our trail grow cold.”
“So … what?” I say, my voice hitching. I pull free from Clyde’s grasp. “You’re going to leave me?”
That’s not how this was supposed to go. How did I not fully think that through?
William’s arm shoots into the front seat, pointing. “There. Second house on the right.”
Clyde slows the car. They get out and exchange a few words, a pat on the shoulder, before Clyde eases back into Big Bertha.
It may be childish, but I won’t look at him. I can’t look at him.
“I’m not choosing this, Bonnie … to hide out.”
“How long?”
“A few months, maybe. Got to see how much interest they take in us.”
I half turn. “Okay. So take me with you.”
“No, Bonnie. I can’t do that. It’s too risky. But I’ll be back for you. Trust me. I ain’t letting you go.” He blows out a low whistle. “Still can’t believe you put yourself at such risk for me.”
I wait a beat, swallowing the fact we’re not going to be together. Not yet. Then I face him fully and say, “For us. I risked it all for us. This is what we do, right? We save each other, trust each other.” I lick my lips. “I ain’t happy ’bout you leaving, but I know you’ll be back.” From my pocket, I pull out the napkin and hold it out to him. “I wrote you something.”
“What’s this?”
“Read it, silly. It’s our second verse.”
He angles the napkin toward the streetlight. “Bonnie, your handwriting is atrocious. Wouldn’t ever be able to read this.”
I playfully smack him. “I wrote it in the dark, while waiting for you.”
“Read it to me?”
As I recite each word, it’s as if Clyde goes through the emotions with me, ’til his hand is lost in my hair. “It’s true. I won’t let go. I’ll fight for us ’til the very last breath I take. That was beautiful, Bonnie. Truly.”
“So were your words. Here,” I say, and flip over the napkin. “Did I get the first verse right? I wrote those in the light, but I had to pull ’em from memory.”
“I’m sure you remembered ’em perfectly.”
“Will you sing me our chorus?”
And there’s that lazy smile I’ve come to know and love. He clears his throat dramatically, and I laugh. Setting our verses aside, I climb into his lap, both of us snug in the driver’s seat, to feel the rise and fall of his chest as he sings, “’Cause lean closer, listen close … How the story ends, no one knows … But one thing’s clear, you’ll see … Bonnie and Clyde, meant to be, alive and free.”
Like before, that last line, that last note, hangs between us. And in my heart, I know nothin’ has ever been more true.
We’re Bonnie and Clyde.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
First, thank you for riding shotgun as I told my version of Bonnie’s origin story. It was a blast to bring to life and I hope you enjoyed experiencing Bonnie’s immersion into the speakeasy world and later into the arms of Clyde Champion Barrow.