For the past month, I’ve had a pit in my stomach worrying about tonight. I haven’t been able to contain my excitement for our escape, but part of me is still terrified. Our plan seems insane when I really think about it, but I’d do anything to be with Tyria. Our families are considered nobility in France, but all that means for us is that we’ll get married off to men of other noble families. Throughout the past couple of years we’ve expressed our mutual disgust at the idea of marrying a man to each other, and we finally decided to take matters into our own hands.

Through the subtle sounds of the night, I could hear the rustle of leaves moving towards me. I prayed it was Tryia and not someone sent to find me if my parents had realized my absence. 

A hand peeked through the bushes, and Tyria appeared in front of me. She was wearing a plain brown dress and her hurled hair was escaping its hair tie. She’s so beautiful.

“Did you get the clothes from your brother’s wardrobe?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I responded, “I will be eternally grateful that we have the same frame. I think they’ll fit me with minor alterations.”

“Well get changed already, we only have so long before our absences are discovered.” she said.

I stripped down to my undergarments and picked an inconspicuous jerkin to replace my nightclothes. For once I was grateful for my flat chest, because my brother’s old garments fit me perfectly.

Tyria adjusted my coller and said, “Aileen, even in your brother's clothes, you’re still so beautiful.”

“You better get used to calling me Lee,” I said, “you wouldn’t want to slip up and make anyone suspect I’m a woman.”

“Right!” she exclaimed, “Well, Lee, you’re the most handsome woman dressed as a man I’ve ever seen”

“Shhhhhh,” I whispered, “We’re not that far from my parents’ house, the servants could hear you. Also, I’m the only woman dressed as a man you’ve ever seen.” 

We laughed at the absurdity of the situation. How insane am I to think I can pass as a man, and how insane is Tyria for agreeing to run away with me? Even if this whole plan is insane, it gives us both hope. Staying here with our families would destine us to a future of arranged marriage, running a household, and raising kids. We wanted to contribute differently to the world, and I wanted to create beautiful art. 

A month ago, I hired a messenger to carry my correspondence to Vincent Van Gogh, an underappreciated artist in Arles, which contained some of my best paintings and an offer to join his painters collective. Weeks later I got a reply inviting me to stay at his house in Arles with him and another painter, Paul Gauguin. Tyria and I started planning the journey immediately—surely he wouldn’t have me leave behind my wife.

In the days following our escape, Tyria and I traversed the long road between Paris and Arles by horse, and we went through a large portion of the money we’d brought with us. However, we arrived in Arles just before our currency ran out. We sold the steeds we had bought so we would have some money to survive as we figured out our first source of income.

“Is this the house?” Tyria asked.

“This is the address.” I replied.

“It’s so much smaller than I thought,” she said.

“Well you’re used to your family’s mansion. We’re not nobility anymore, we knew we’d have less space. This will work well enough,” I said.

When we walked to the front door and knocked, we were received by a disheveled man wearing a paint-covered tunic and a thoughtful expression. 

“What can I do for you?” he asked. He smelled of coffee and cigars, but he seemed polite enough, if not a little reserved.

“My name is Lee, we corresponded a few weeks ago,” I said, “and this is my wife Tyria.”

“Ahh Lee, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” he exclaimed. He glanced towards Tyria with a warm expression and added, “And you as well Madame.”

As we exchanged pleasantries, a young man came up behind Vincent. He put a hand on Vincent’s shoulder and said, “Who are our guests Vincent?”

Vincent replied with some introduction, but Tyria and I were too busy noticing the chemistry between the two men. We looked at each other and chuckled—as two women in love, we could clearly see that these two men were in love. As of now, our situation is too precarious for me to reveal myself as a woman, even if these men might be more supportive, but maybe someday. 

Tyria and I walked behind Vincent and the other man, who we later discovered was Paul, as they showed us around the house. 

Later that night, Tyria and I decided to wait until we knew them better to reveal my identity. But in the meantime, Tyria and I are together. We have a place to stay, friendly housemates, and support for my art. Of course Tyria would have to find work as a washwoman to support us for now, but hopefully my paintings will also contribute to supporting our family. Whatever happens from now on, we’ve made our future, and it can be whatever we want it to be.