Justin

I try not to think about what happened last time I wore this suit. Hopefully it's not going to symbolize bad luck for me. The last thing Addie needs is to deal with another tonic-clonic seizure. Sure, she knows how to properly handle them now, but it's still stressful for her. I can't imagine how long the seconds that pass by feel.

My mom and Addie's mom drop us off at some restaurant on Burrard Street in Downtown Vancouver, telling us to call when we're finished. I don't know where our moms and Chris are going, but it must be somewhere good because the kid is practically bouncing in his seat as Addie and I step out.

"Don't forget to take some pictures!" Addie's mom calls through the open window.

Addie grips my arm and tugs me along the sidewalk, her cheeks turning pink. "Keep your head down and walk. You do that, and she'll forget about us; stop nagging us about pictures."

I stumble a little trying to keep up with her, but it makes me laugh. Addie's hilarious when she's flustered.

From outside, the restaurant looks like a typical Vancouver building, city-ish and polished with the slight weathering from the amount of rain that falls annually. But on the inside, it's extravagant. Chandeliers hang lowly from the ceiling, casting a dim light over the tables that have been covered with white tablecloths. Each pillar that rises to the ceiling is wrapped in twinkly white lights. Plants have been added to black-coloured pots, giving the place a pop of colour with various types of bushes, roses, and ferns. The floor is worn, which is seemingly out of place for something that resembles fine-dining, but I like it. I think it adds a bit of a contemporary touch. In the background, soft music that thankfully isn't jazz plays.

I come to the conclusion that this is one of those places where I'm not going to know what a single thing on the menu is and I'm going to be baffled by the prices.

I glance at Addie. Her own blue eyes are wide as she takes in the view. I take that as my chance to check her out. She's tied her hair up into an elegant bun, giving me a full-on view of her swanlike neck and defined collarbone. There's a light dusting of blush on her cheeks, but nothing else; her makeup is simple and real. She's also wearing the dress that was meant for the Winter Formal we never went to. Just like last time I saw her wearing it, I can't even begin to describe how good it looks on her.

"This is beautiful," she says softly.

"You sure are," I say.

Addie blinks and looks at me. "What?"

Cheeks warming up, I blurt, "Nothing."

She gives me a look and then turns to face the hostess that's coming with two menus in hand. "Welcome," she says. "Reservations?"

Addie gives our names and the hostess locates them on a very long list located at the podium.

"Right," the brown-haired hostess says. "If you'll follow me, please."

We follow the clicking of her heels, both Addie and I awestruck by this place. It's like something in a fairy-tale. The further in, the more magical things you see.

"You two look lovely tonight," the hostess says. "What's the special occasion?"

I'm at a loss for words. If I'd known she was going to ask us this question, I would have planned a simple lie. I'm not about to go into full detail about how we're celebrating one of my last nights before an extremely serious surgery and then being stuck in recovery for three months after that. If I even make it, that is.

I mentally shake my head. No. I need to get that shit out of my head. Surgeons always have to tell their patients the risks of surgeries – it's one of the obvious rules with their job. Just because he told me and everyone else that, doesn't mean it's going to happen. The last one worked fine to a point.

"Uh, Prom?" Addie squeaks, looking extremely flustered. Clearly, she didn't consider this happening, either.

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing at how pink her cheeks have gone; they're about ten shades darker than the blush she's wearing.

The hostess looks at us with an eyebrow cocked, obviously knowing that Prom doesn't take place in February. Hell, we don't even refer to our senior-year celebration as Prom in British Columbia. It's Grad – short for Graduation. At least, that's how we refer to it in the Okanagan. I'm not sure about Vancouver and the other cities.

Making eye contact with the hostess as Addie and I sit down across from each other at our reserved table, I say, "That's my girlfriend making a mental note to come here before Prom in June." I let loose a chuckle. "We're here for a late birthday dinner, right?"

Addie, cheeks still redder than red, nods, her face a mix of embarrassment and relief.

"Right," smiles the hostess, setting our menus down. "Well, your waiter will be by soon to take drink orders. Have a wonderful time."

As soon as the hostess is gone, Addie groans and drops her face in her hands. "Sometimes I don't know why I talk. Seriously. I'm just like my dad – speaking before thinking. Grad doesn't happen in February!"

Her mini-outburst causes me to laugh.

"Oh, yeah," she says sarcastically, "laugh it up, buddy. See where that gets you."

I cock an eyebrow at her and watch as her frown slowly unfolds into a smile. Soon, she's laughing with me.

"God," she laughs. "I can be so stupid sometimes."

"We all can be," I reply, trying to make her feel better. What she said was pretty stupid, but I'm not going to make her feel down for having a small slip.

Before Addie can make another comment, the waiter appears. And, for the next five minutes, we hear about drink specials and dinner specials that are taking place tonight and specifically during this hour. We even hear about the alcohol specials, which surprises me because I really don't think either of us looks nineteen or older. In the end, we both decline any alcohol and go for water.

"Sparkling or bottled?" the waiter asks.

Addie frowns. "Tap water? You know, the stuff we usually drink, please?"

The waiter walks away silently, like Addie's just offended him somehow. She frowns at me. "What did I say?"

"Beats me," I shrug, glancing around. I wonder if they have a rule against serving tap water or something. Something a commoner would drink doesn't really suit the place. "Maybe it's foreign to them." I'm only partially joking when I say that, but Addie still laughs.

A minute later, our waters are placed in front of us, a sprig of mint and a slice of lemon in each. The waiter tells us he'll be back soon in case we want to order any appetizers.

Once he's gone, Addie picks up her menu and opens it. Her eyes widen as her eyes move from one side of the page to the other. She looks up at me through her thick, black lashes. "Do you think our moms made a mistake and dropped us off in the wrong place?" she whispers. "Everything's so expensive."

Curious, I open my menu and look at it. My heart instantly sinks. There's nothing, minus some appetizers and regular drinks, that are under twenty bucks. I can't afford it and neither can my mom, who gave me her credit card to pay for the whole thing and told me to spend however much I want. I can't spend this kind of money. But I also don't want to disappoint Addie again. I am, after all, the reason we missed the Winter Formal.

However, the other side of me thinks I deserve this, to go out with my girlfriend and splurge on dinner and dessert at a fancy restaurant. After everything I've endured, I deserve this moment.

"Seriously," she says. "We can't spend this much."

"Addie," I say, reaching for her hand. She closes the remaining space and threads her fingers with mine. "It's fine." I give her hand a comforting squeeze. "This is our night. We didn't get to go to the Winter Formal and now we're making it up. So let's enjoy this."

She exhales deeply. "Okay. Yes, you're right. I just feel bad spending my parents' money, you know? They already do so much and I feel like I'm taking advantage of them."

I nod. "I completely agree with you, but they told us to go and have some fun. Shouldn't we take that and run with it while we have the chance?"

Addie nods and tucks that one stubborn strand of hair that's long but still too short to be put up in a bun, behind her ear. "I guess so." She gives my hand another squeeze, and, in the light of the candle on the table, she smiles. "I'm happy we're doing this."

"Me too," I smile. And I really am. Last surgery, when we came down two days early, I was eating takeout in the hotel room and trying to keep my mind off of what was to come by watching TV. Suffice to say, it didn't work. I was stressing myself out. This time, the stress seems like a minority.

The waiter stops by again, bringing complementary bread and a plate of what looks to be some kind of oil-and-balsamic-vinegar concoction. Of course, we haven't had a chance to look at the menu yet, so when he asks if we've made our decisions, we both shake our heads and ask for a few more minutes.

Now that we've both decided that we're going to go through with this, I read everything carefully and try to ignore the price to the right of the dishes. "See anything you like?" I ask Addie after I've gone through the menu. Sure enough, there are some things I can't pronounce.

"Yeah," she replies, her voice muffled from a mouthful of bread. She swallows the mouthful. "The grilled Coho Salmon with lemon-pepper compound butter, steamed asparagus, and roasted cinnamon butternut squash sound really good. Fish is something my brothers hate, so we don't get to eat much of it." She looks up from her menu. "How about you?"

I skim-read it quickly. Out of the things I can pronounce, the peppercorn steak with a balsamic reduction, Caesar salad, and roasted potatoes sounds the best. I normally avoid red meat, but that doesn't mean I don't like it. Besides, it's been months since the last time I had steak. One night isn't going to hurt my health. I read the menu item to Addie.

"Ugh," she groans. "I love steak. But I'm just craving some fish."

"Then we're good?" I grin.

She nods excitedly. "We're good."

The next time the waiter comes to our table, we place our orders and are asked if we want more bread. I really don't think we should, but Addie nods her head. So we get some more.

While waiting for our orders to come, Addie and I talk. We talk about school, sports, Grad, and post-secondary plans.

"Do you have any idea where you want to go?" Addie asks me.

Years ago, when my parents were going through their divorce, I would have said somewhere as far away as Toronto. But with epilepsy, my options are limited. I need someone who knows and understands like my mom and Addie. And, to be completely honest, I don't really want to go somewhere with a clean slate and then suddenly ruin it. If I ever go to college or university, I don't want to be suffering from seizures. I shrug. "It all kind of depends on how this surgery goes," I reply quietly, picking at a piece of bread that I probably shouldn't be eating. I have a feeling these pants aren't going to fit me by the time the night is over. "But epilepsy aside, I'm still not sure." My own words catch me off guard. I never realized how truly unsure I was until now. "I don't want to leave my family, y'know?"

Addie nods thoughtfully. "I understand. It's hard when you're used to having them around all the time. That's why I'm staying here."

I raise my eyebrows. "Really? I thought for sure you'd want to get out of here and go somewhere else in Canada."

"Well, I did want to go to Toronto as my parents did, but it would be too hard to leave. I have a job, I have a place to stay, and I have my own car. Also, I can do my first two years of nursing at Okanagan College and then go to UBCO for the rest. It all works out really well for me."

I contemplate what I've just heard and come to the conclusion that Addie would be a good nurse. She's gentle and caring, and would probably be one of those nurses that do funny stuff to make scared kids laugh and feel more comfortable. "You'd be really good," I say.

"Thanks," Addie smiles. "What about you? What would you want to do?"

Just as I'm about to tell her that I have no idea, our food arrives. Just like I thought, the food is minimal and presented in the fanciest way possible. We say thanks to the waiter and dig right in. After a couple of bites, I reply. "I was always interested in becoming an electrician before I was diagnosed."

"Okanagan College has a good trades program, which includes becoming an electrician," Addie says casually.

"I don't know," I tease. "Do you think you could put up with me?"

"Well, I've basically been doing that every day since I met you," Addie smiles. "I think I could do it longer." She pauses, chewing her food slowly. "It would be fun," she adds softly.

It would be fun. Going to college with my girlfriend. It's something I've always wanted to do. Knowing someone, especially someone you love, makes it ten times easier. And it would mean more time with Addie. And who knows? Maybe, if we could last that long, we'd eventually move in together. I feel crazy thinking about it, but graduation isn't that far away anymore. "It would," I reply.

Addie shakes her head. "It's still far away. I hate how they make us think that our lives depend on these decisions. I don't necessarily fall into this category, but it sucks for the people who don't know what they want to do. Like Sophia – she has no idea and it's been stressing her out. High schools are so aggressive when it comes to stuff like this. I don't see what the problem of not knowing is when you take the basic, core subjects that can contribute to everything."

"I agree," I say, nodding my head. "That's exactly what I've done, actually; taken all the subjects I know I need. My options are open that way."

"Exactly!" Addie exclaims. "God, they make it sound like life or death. I hate it." She pauses for a second. "Do you think you could talk to Sophs for me? I've tried to tell her this multiple times, but she just won't listen to me. She might listen to someone who isn't related to her and has done the same thing. She knows I've set my subjects up for the nursing program."

Since the night Sophia had a little too much to drink, we've gotten closer and I could definitely consider her a friend now. She's a lot like Addie in some ways, but definitely more social and confident. Not that I'm saying Addie isn't confident or anything like that – she is – she's just no very vocal about it.

"Of course," I say.

"Thank you," Addie smiles.

"No problem," I shrug. What Addie has just asked me to do, for some reason, reminds me of what I promised Chris yesterday. "Hey, Addie?"

She holds up a finger while she quickly chews and swallows her food. "Yes?"

I set down my fork and knife, sighing. "I'm going to be exhausted for the first couple of weeks after the surgery and I promised Chris I would do something for him."

Addie raises an eyebrow, edging me on.

So I go into a big spiel about how Chris doesn't want to keep going back and forth anymore; how he wants to stay with me and Mom. "Do you think you could help me look up the information I need? I don't even know where to start, so some help would be nice."

Addie reaches out and takes my hand. "You don't even have to ask, Justin. I'm going to help you and Chris, don't you worry. I'll start looking stuff up when I get home. Sound good?"

I exhale deeply. "You have no idea how much that means to me, Addie. Thank you."

"What are girlfriends for?" she jokes. "Anyway, now that we've covered the basics, what do you think of this food?"

I look down at my plate. There was barely any food on it to begin with. "Honestly?" I ask, looking up at Addie.

"Honestly," she nods.

"In my most honest opinion," I say, "I would prefer your dad's cooking over any other restaurant. Seriously."

Addie giggles. "Okay, good. I'm not the only one then." She pokes at the remaining salmon on her plate. "Like, do they even know the difference between the main course and an appetizer? I've eaten more bread than dinner."

I snort. She's got a point – the meals are pretty damn tiny. And we did eat a lot of bread.

"But you know what?" Addie adds.

"What?" I ask.

"We could be eating Kraft Dinner and this would still be one of the best nights of my entire life. You know why?"

"Why?" I ask, my heart pounding.

"Because I got to spend it with you, which is all I really wanted to begin with."

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Damn me and my tears. But can anyone really blame me? I've never had someone care for me as much as (other than my mom and brother) Addie. She's made everything seem brighter by staying with me through everything, bringing her family into my life, and giving me friends I'd only ever dreamt of. She can't even begin to understand how much she's done for me.

I can hardly believe all of this started with a simple note she stuck in my binder.

Lifting my glass, I say, "To Addie."

Her eyebrows furrow. "What? Why?"

I smile. "Because you're the love that came without warning. You had my heart before I could catch my breath."

Addie blushes and raises her glass, clinking it against mine. "I love you," she says.

And I swear to God, this is the best night I've ever had in the bright city of Vancouver.