A Death More Electric
Geneviève
“One, two, three...” I inhale hesitantly.
I take a deep breath as I lift my feet onto the windowsill. I am conflicted, caught between the life I knew and a fall that leads to the unknown. My tears have started to make my eyes blurry. The garden in front of me almost resembles an oil painting, its colors blending with the moonlit sky.
The wind sharply touches my skin, as if having needles thrown at me for treason. Now the wind blinds me with my long curly hair. I am no longer able to see the canvas, though the darkness calms my nerves from the anticipated fall.
Before I step a bit closer to the edge, I hear my door creak open. My body is locked in position. I don’t care who’s there. I am beyond despair; my reach for hope has begun to disappear like the oil painting in front of me. My life is ruined from what my Mama has bestowed upon my future. I am nothing to her but a pawn in society.
Suddenly, I hear my lady’s maid Marie’s soft voice. “Miss Geneviève!”
I close my eyes in frustration. My voice starts to crack. “Marie—this is not a sight I wish for you to see!”
Marie slowly steps closer and whispers, “There’s another way... I have made plans-”
Now my voice goes from cracked to a sword. “Marie, there’s nothing I can do. I am a noble unwed woman, I have no choice anymore. I’ve lost the battle, a fallen solider, a-.”
Marie’s hands quickly thrust a paper and starts flashing it in my face. My eyes finally meet hers.
“Marie, on what circumstances do you possibly believe I can retrieve that paper in your hand?”
Marie quickly puts the paper down and holds out her hand. Now impatient, she pleads for my life. “Geneviève, please take my hand. I promise you, the longer we wait, the less time we have.”
I grab her hand and hop down onto my bedroom floor. “Marie, what in God’s—”
Marie once again waves the paper back in my face. I grab it and hold my focus. Now my attention has shifted. “Is this true? Father only just came back...”
Marie’s face brightens. “Yes, Miss. His ship leaves when the sun rises.”
I look up and wipe my tears away as if I hadn’t just tried to jump out the window. “Pack my trunks—only the essentials. Oh, mustn’t forget my most valuable possession.”
Marie nods; we both say in unison, “Sketchbook.”
“If we aim to succeed, we must wait for Mama to sleep.” I tell her.
It’s midnight. Mama must be asleep by now and Papa is out at a high-stakes card game with the other noble men in the city. This really is my only chance for my sanity’s survival. Marie takes my hand and we jolt down the halls to the back of the estate.
Once we arrive at the stables, a footman is waiting for me to get on the horse. I turn towards Marie and grab her hands. “Marie, you must join me.”
Marie looks down in sadness. “I can’t, my life is here... in Paris.”
I start to get teary. “Don’t be silly Marie, these Parisian streets will be far less memorable once we step foot into the world in my father’s books. We always talked about this moment of escaping. I cannot do this alone without you.”
I notice a sudden shift in Marie’s eyes. Her gaze softens as it drifts towards the handsome footman on the horse. I am no fool; that one look gave a story that I have not read yet. If she were to leave, she would leave behind something I have never once felt.
“I—why didn’t you—” I ask softly.
“Geneviève, we all hold secrets that rest patiently inside our hearts” Marie’s voice cracks. “I had wished to tell you, but how could I in your state.”
My heart tightens. “I- I cannot say I am not disappointed.” I sniffle forcing a giggle. “How could you possibly not inform me of such a scandalous love story. It’s the only kind I can approve of. I-I will write to you. I promise I will find a way to find you again.”
Marie, with tears running down her soft cheeks, gazes back into mine. “Let’s get going. You have to board before the others.”
I nod and hug Marie tightly.
We both get on the horses. We grabbed another horse from the stable so Marie could come with us. Suddenly, a cold yet familiar sadness moves through my body. It’s not regret, but the hollow reality that I might never see my Mama or Marie ever again.
As we ride off, I look back and see my window with the candles still lit. I laugh to myself quietly. Of course, I had to make it look dramatic, even if I didn’t end up falling to my death.
Before I can feel anymore, I look forward to a new future. If I look back, I’ll forever be stuck in the unbreathable air of society.
It’s not a long ride to the docks, but it seemed like it took ages. The anticipation of doing this—getting away, far away—puts a galvanizing heat toward my chest. I live off of thrill. If I stay and become wed to a man I know nothing about, I’ll lose everything.
My stomach starts to flip with anxiety; however, the smell of the ocean flows deeper into my nostrils. The nausea fades the closer we get. I tug onto the footman’s coat. “Are we almost there?”
The footman stops the horse. “We are here, Miss Geneviève.”
In shock, I look around me. I was thinking so intensively I didn’t even realize where we were. “Oh...”
The footman quickly jumps off the horse and helps me down. Marie is now beside me.
“Geneviève, when you board, Jaq will be there to greet you. He will take you to where you will stay on the ship. And since you prefer English over French, your travel companion will be there. Her name is Mary, a runaway maid from England.”
My chest begins to tighten as I look over at the ship. It is elegant, much like my father.
You are doing the right thing, Geneviève. Relax.
My body suddenly jolts as I feel a pair of hands touch my shoulder. Then I hear Marie’s voice. “You are doing the right thing, Miss. Besides, a death outside your window is far less enticing than a death that is far more electric!”
I look at the closest human I have in my heart. “You’re right, Marie—I’d rather die from treason than to jump from the skies!”
We both giggle, tears streaming down our faces.
“I adore you, please don’t feel guilty. But you must make an oath to escape the very prison I fled tonight.”
Marie wipes her tears. “Of course. Now you must go! Crewmen will be arriving soon.”
I hug Marie once more and thank the footman for his guidance. As I pick up my belongings and start to walk off, I stop to turn around one last time.
“Don’t look back,” Marie stops me. “Keep going Genevève.”
I take a deep breath and walk up toward the ship. A tall, slim man is waiting for me. That must be Jaq. I quickly place a shawl over my face before approaching the man. Each step up the ramp, my heart transitions from restless to exhilarated.
Eventually, I met him at the top. He leans over to help me up. “You must be Geneviève.”
I look up and nod. I’m shocked at my own trust. Merely an hour ago, I hesitated to take the hand of my own friend, now I follow a stranger into the belly of the ship. I have many questions—Who is he and why should I trust him?—yet my words stay trapped in my airway.
By the time we get to the storage bunk of the ship, I finally let out a sigh of relief. It smells of cedar, silk, dust, and rum. Suddenly, I am startled by a woman’s harsh, raspy British accent. I’ve heard this dialect before—it must have been when I would venture into the late streets of London, on my way to the vibrant salons of artist gatherings. The air was thick, ominous, and its stench was not commonly pleasing.
“Must get some rest, my love. We set sailin’ at dawn.”
