Je Pourrais Vous Ai Aimés

James stared at what he had wrought. In his hands, he held it: a music box, of his own creation. Mostly. The part actually playing the music he had ordered online. But he had installed it himself, and built the box around it. It had eaten up his time in shop class for several months. He gently lifted the lid, revealing a tiny, hand carved Statue of Liberty. The music chimed softly the national anthem. She was going to love it.

James supposed he should sign it. Some of the other students had signed a card for her, saying things like, “We’ll never forget you!” and “We love you Ana!”. Her name was Anais, but James was the only one to call her that. Everyone else found it hard to pronounce, but James had taken some French while he was homeschooled. He still had an accent, but she told him once she loved American accents, and he suspected this was no exception. Anais was a foreign exchange student from Switzerland, and her time studying in the United States was over. Today was her last day before she left the states, and so everyone was saying goodbye. James was sure many people would bring her mementos. He knew one of Anais’ closer and more artistic friends had actually made a poster for her: “Uncle Sam wants YOU to know he’ll miss you!” It was awesome, and made even better by the fact the girl’s name was Samantha, and she had put her face in place of Uncle Sam’s.

James pondered what he should write. What did he want to say? That he’d miss her, obviously, but he wanted it to be special. He thought back to some of their conversations, looking for inspiration. Often, their conversations had been fun, flirty even. And their relationship had always skirted between friendship and something more. He’d wanted to ask her out, almost had a few times. He’d imagined what it would be like for them to go out for a picnic, or take late night walks around his small town. They’d go to a movie or for ice cream. She’d steal a lick of his, and get ice cream on her nose, and he’d have to kiss it off. But every time he played out the relationship in his mind, it always ended the same: her leaving for Switzerland and him being heartbroken. Sure, they could try and keep in touch, but even with all the vast powers of the internet, they’d only be delaying the inevitable.

James sighed and stared at the still unsigned music box. He’d have to leave soon if he wanted to see her before she left. What did he want to say? “I’ll miss you” seemed too simple, but James didn’t think he was great with words. I love you and I’ll miss you? He imagined none of the other guys were saying I love you. It was probably just the girls. But she was a close friend, possibly his closest, and he did love her in that regard. But what if she thought he meant romantically? What if she found that a selfish thing to say, just before she left? James glanced at the clock. Crap. He needed to leave. He hesitated, looking again at the box. Fueled by the urgency of the moment, inspiration struck him. French. It was perfect. Grabbing a pen, he faltered for a moment, trying to decide if he should write it fancy. He decided legible would probably be better, and wrote it: Je’taime. I love you. James grabbed his keys and ran for the door, music box in hand.

James felt like he was moving at ludicrous speeds, or that the world was moving really slow around him. When he finally arrived, he opened the door to see Anais hugging her friends. She was getting ready to leave. He was later than he thought. The group said goodbye, and they all began filing out. Anais caught sight of him and folded her arms, tapping her foot.

“You’re late,” she said, doing her best to maintain a stern face.

“A thousand apologies, m’lady,” James said, dipping low into a bow. Her poker face broke into a smile then, and James couldn’t help but grin back. “I was finishing this.” He handed her the music box. She opened it, and her eyes sparkled like fireworks when “The Star-Spangled Banner” began to play.

“It’s beautiful!” she breathed, admiring it. James was glad she liked it.

“I, uh, I signed the bottom.”

She gently closed the lid, and turned the box upside down. James felt like his heart was beating fast as a hummingbird’s. Anais squinted at it a moment, as if she couldn’t read his handwriting, and then stifled a laugh. James’ heart sank.

“What is it?” he asked.

A little giggle escaped her lips, and her eyes teared up a moment. She took a steadying breath. “What did you write?”

“Je’taime,” he said, “it means ‘I love you’, right?”

She giggled again. “It’s Je t’aime. It’s two words, and the apostrophe goes after the t.”

James could feel his ear redden. He had flunked French, after all. He reached for it. “I can fix it quick.”

“No, no!” Anais said, clutching it to her chest. She composed herself. “It’s perfect,” she said, sincerely. “So brilliantly, wonderfully, perfect.”

She hugged him then. He caught a whiff of her perfume. Honeysuckle. He closed his eyes, and his heart was back to going one thousand, two hundred and sixty beats per minute.

“Merci,” she whispered in his ear, and then kissed him on the cheek. Then she had to go.

He held his hand to his cheek, still feeling that kiss.