Bonnie and Clyde

Milan Ellison stands on the small, cramped balcony of his run-down apartment, leaning heavily against the insubstantial-looking wrought iron railing. A person with more concern for their own life would think twice before putting the weight of their entire body against it, but Milan doesn’t think twice. The muggy air is nearly still, barely moving against his sticky skin. 

It’s that hour of the night where it’s neither late nor early, or perhaps to some, either too late or too early. Everything feels too still. Fake. Imagined. Make-believe. The city is quiet and motionless, like some sort of dream world. Milan feels as if he is caught between two strands of reality, almost as if any loud noise or sudden movement might ruin the façade, and awaken the sleeping city. As if it might force him to return to real-life, and face the events of the previous days. 

As the sun slowly rises, peering in from between two high rise buildings, exhaustion and regret set in. Beneath the red-tinted light, he looks down at the cigarette he holds between his fingers, watching the lit end slowly inches closer toward his fingertips before the ashes fall, and drift away quietly to the ground several storeys below.  

This isn’t anything new for Milan. He’s made this mistake before. Spent too much time in this exact position, wondering how he ended up here once again. One too many drinks leads to a phone call that seemed like a good idea at the time. The drinks turn into pills, and the pills into powders, and instead of waking up with a hangover the next morning, he ends up watching the sunrise for the second day in a row, with tired, bloodshot eyes, and an inescapable feeling of shame.

At least this morning, he’s finally sober. With one final drag, he stubs out his cigarette, and drops the butt into a cracked flowerpot that now has more cigarette butts in it, than it ever had flowers.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” A voice asks softly from behind Milan, who stares emotionlessly into the distance. Too focused on his own thoughts, he didn’t even hear the other person approach.

With a weak smile, he turns around to face the girl, and he remembers why he made the decisions he did. Why he makes them every single time. Why he knows he’ll make them all over again. It’s foolish and naïve, but when he sees her smile back, it’s all worth it. In the moment at least. 

It’s worth it to see her smile as she beckons the bartender over for another round of shots. It’s worth it to see her smile as she holds up a baggie with a wink. As she puts the rolled-up bill to her nose. As she motions for him to do the same. As she—

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, realizing she was waiting for an answer while his thoughts wandered.

She laughs a little. “You think too much,” she says. She isn’t wrong. Sometimes Milan wishes he could think less, and care less, the way she does.

Milan was never a morning person. In fact, his days more often than not, started late in the afternoon, after most people have been going about their days for hours. In fact, he only ever caught glimpses of the sunrise after long nights and short benders like this one. He loves them though, because they make him think of new beginnings, and quiet moments like this, of happiness, and lifetimes of new possibilities. They distract from the regret, and exhaustion, and shame. More than anything though, they make him think of her. Because when he watches her smile into the horizon as she lights her own cigarette, it’s a moment he wants to capture forever. It’s worth it, he reminds himself.

It’s not an easy feat, trying to describe this girl with words. Milan doesn’t think they’ve never been able to do her any justice. This girl was bright like the sun, in a way where one probably shouldn’t look at her too closely for too long, no matter how inviting it is. The rising sun reflects off her bright eyes, and glows against her hair in a way that makes it look almost as if there is a halo around her head. For someone who’s anything but, she looks angelic in moments like these. 

She’s golden, with her glittery makeup, and silky gowns, and delicate crystal flutes of expensive champagne. She smiles like a ray of sunlight, and her voice flows like molten gold as she charms her way into anything and everything she wants. 

People say that love begins in an instant. Like being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or tripping over a shoelace, or a drunken stumble. People oftentimes don’t realize it, and let themselves become captivated by smiles, and whispers, and empty words of assurance. The sun draws people into her orbit. She smiles, and to them, it’s worth it. Milan wishes he could warm them, and those before him. Milan wishes someone warned him. But she smiles, and it’s worth it. She leads, and he follows.

It’s worth it to see her smile as she puts her hand atop his, gently wrapping his fingers around the cold metal. Milan takes a deep breath, and looks her in the eye. She nods. It’s worth it to see her smile, despite the begging and pleading that fall upon his ears. Milan hesitates, and looks at her, only to be met with an encouraging squeeze of the hand. It’s worth it to see her smile, as he watches her struggle against ropes that tighten around the raw skin of her wrists, her ankles. It’s worth it to see her smile, as he slowly drags his hands across soft, cold, skin. 

Later, she asks him. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

And all Milan can do is nod, and murmur a sound of agreement. 

That evening, the two drive quietly along a small country road. It’s late, and there’s a heaviness in Milan’s chest. The sun sets eerily along the empty horizon, a stark contrast from the city skyline from earlier that day. Despite seeing them far more often, Milan was never a fan of sunsets; they saddened him. Unlike sunrises and their associations with beginnings, sunsets marked an ending. They symbolised goodbyes, and regret, and mistakes that are too late to repair. 

Eventually, the car stops at a quiet bridge, looking over a small lake surrounded by forest on one side, and farmland on the other. The water is calm and unmoving, like the air from this morning. It’s cooler now, Milan notices, as he slowly steps out of the car. He looks at her one last time, and is once again met with that same, unwavering smile. The sun has already set, and the scene is illuminated only by the pale light of the full moon, that peeks in from behind the trees. 

He drops her lifeless body into the lake with a heavy splash.

She is nothing like the sun, he thinks to himself, as he stands there alone, for the first time in days.

With that, Milan Ellison finally makes his return to reality, and recognizes that this girl is nothing but tarnished silver. Pale skin, and dull hair. Without a smile, or any sense of livelihood. A moon, who can only really be seen when graced with the light of the sun. She is nothing. 

He hears her anguished screams, and then he sees his lover’s smile. Tarnished silver is nothing in comparison to his lover’s golden allure. He returns to the car, and sits down silently in the passenger seat. She smiles at him and he reminds himself it’s worth it. 

“I love you,” she reaches over the center console to take his hand.

He laces their fingers and squeezes once. “I love you too.”