If Only You Could Love Me

Biel-Bienne, Switzerland

"Want to go for dinner and drinks later?"

I peeked up with raised eyebrows at my coworker, Jen.

"Je vous en prie?", I let out a chuckle as she switched to the little French she knew.

I knew it irritated Jen that I was raised speaking French, not German as was the language she was fluent in. In Bienne, or Biel if you wish, you could stumble upon both. A lot of people spoke both, but I was raised by my mother who was also raised speaking French, and really had no interest for the German language.

"Et si vous allez parler français à moi, je suppose que je dois", I sighed, and smiled when I saw her forehead crinkle in confusion, "Yes, I'll come to dinner and drinks with you."

"Thank you, Andy", I could see she was relieved that I returned to English, as was her native language.

Jen was really Jennifer, an American girl in Switzerland. I could never wrap my mind around why Biel-Bienne had drawn her in. It wasn't a big town, and it didn't have anything really that interesting. With Zürich less than two hours away, I didn't understand her fascination with Biel-Bienne. Perhaps since it was where I had grown up.

Andy, that would be me, was really Andromeda. I've always wondered why my mother would, in her words, bless me with such an... astonishing name as Andromeda. I've went by the nickname Andy for as long as I can remember, despite my mother's insistance that I am in fact a girl, and not a boy.

Dinner and drinks started at a restaurant in the middle of town, owned by my uncle by marriage. In a way it was a farewell dinner, the year was coming to an end in a few days, and after the new year came and this year went, Jen would be returning to the suburbs of Boston where she was born and raised. Of course she was trying to convince me to come back with her. Not impossible, considering my father was American. Through the man that I now met rarely I held two citizenships across the world, an United States one and a French one. I even had an American passport from the years I had lived with my dad when I went to school in New England at Phillips Exeter.

"Are your parents excited about their prodigy child returning back to the promised land?", I asked Jen as we dug in on our food.

"Very", She rolled her eyes, "My mom still thinks spending six months in Switzerland was a dumb idea."

We talked between bites of food and sips of wine, until I saw Jen crinkling her nose in distaste.

"What?"

"Those two guys over there are totally oogling us", Jen muttered with her wine glass to her lips.

I turned slightly and looked in the same direction she was looking in. I wouldn't call it oogling myself, but they were looking. I recognized them almost instantly, not necessarily because I knew who they were, but because they looked American. One of them did anyway. The other guy just so happened to be my cousin, whatever he was doing with the American hockey player was beyond me. He did play ice hockey, but I had always imagined that the visitors would somehow... put themselves above the local players. I waved a bit to my cousin, showing him that I had seen him.

"That's my cousin, and one of the hockey players", I sighed and turned back to her, "Relax, they are harmless."

The two American hockey players were somewhat infamous in Biel-Bienne since their arrival at the start of the North American top hockey league's lockout. The NHL. Talk of the town as they were, they both played for the local team, EHC Biel, while I guess awaiting the OK to return to the United States. I didn't know which one the one at the table with my cousin was, not that it actually mattered.

We finished dinner a little while later, and I suggested we cross the street to a bar for some drinks and live music. And on the way out we stopped by my cousin and the American's table.

"Jean", He stood up and I leaned in for the double cheek kiss greeting.

"Bonjour chérie", My cousin greeted me, "Qui est votre ami?"

"This is Jen", I switched to English in courtesy of her, "She's American."

"American?", Jean looked surprised, "Lucky you. This is Patrick, he is also American."

Patrick stood up and stretched his hand out for greeting. I looked at it for a while, before shaking it. I sometimes forgot that Americans didn't greet eachother the same way as a lot of people in European countries.

"Hello", His accent made no mistake that he was American, "I'm Patrick Kane."

"We know", Jen said, and I nodded in agreement.

"L'entretien de la ville", I told him with a smile, "The talk of the town, Mr. Kane. I'm Andy, by the way. Jean's cousin."

He looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read, before he smiled. He seemed nice. Then again most Americans were nice, to some extent. Maybe a bit dumb from what I had encountered in the past, but surely saying that about all of them would be rather silly.

"So what are you girls up to?", Jean asked after a moment of silence.

"Oh, we're just going to head across the street to Cecil for some drinks", I replied, "What about you boys?"

"Just dinner, we have practice early in the morning", Jean shrugged.

"How nice", I smiled and looked at Patrick, "Where's your other American friend, Mr. Kane?"

Patrick looked confused for a moment, "Oh, you must mean Tyler. He's Canadian."

I shrugged, "North American friend, then."

"Yeah no, I actually don't know where he is."

That was about the jist of the conversation before me and Jen decided that it was time to head on to the bar for drinks. Cecil was a nice place just across the street with live music most nights and the drinks weren't awfully priced either. Plus I knew most of their bouncers from school.

"Je te parlerai demain", I murmured as I kissed Jean's cheek, "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Kane. Au revoir, as we say in French."

He smiled, and proceeded to make an awful rendition of the French goodbye. Americans...

"He was nice", Jen commented as we headed across the street and entered the skim line heading into Cecil, "I always imagined professional hockey players to be so... self-absorbed."

"Well you barely said anything anyway", I rolled my eyes with a slight smile, "I bet you thought he was cute."

"Well of course I did, but-"

"See that's why you barely said anything. Oh, Jen, t'es si doux qu'il fait presque mal. You are so sweet it hurts."

"Tais-toi, Andy."

"Why don't you shut up", I laughed.