Adelaide
I don't get home until late. Justin, Chris, and I spend hours writing, revising, and editing until we come out with a piece of writing that we're all satisfied with. I have high hopes for this letter because I think it covers everything, including emotions, very well. Then, halfway home, I have to pull over and answer a call from Sophia. She spends about twenty minutes going on and on about her dark purple grad dress that finally arrived in the mail. I'm happy for her, I really am, but as soon as we say our goodbyes, I'm reminded that I still haven't gotten a dress yet.
It's not my fault. I've been so busy with helping Justin recover, studying for finals, and figuring out how to help Chris that I haven't even thought about getting a grad dress. Besides, it's not like I need another one – I could just use the dress I got for the Winter Formal.
But I'm not entirely sold on that. Although I hate falling into the same category as other girls, I kind of want to find a dress. I know, it's a big surprise considering how much I hate dress shopping, but grad only happens once and I want it to be special. Especially for Justin.
As I'm heating up some leftovers, I begin to list the stores in Kelowna that I could maybe find a dress. There are plenty, but I have one problem: the good ones have probably been picked over already.
I sigh. Maybe my dress will have to do – I'd rather not go through the dress shopping shenanigan again.
"What's wrong, Ads?"
I jump, letting out a yelp and nearly dropping my plate of pasta. I spin around quickly, coming face-to-face with Dad. I exhale deeply, trying to calm my frantically beating heart. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Dad." I squint at him. "I thought you and Mom would've been in bed by now."
"Sorry," he grins. "And we were watching a movie on Netflix."
"Don't you have to work tomorrow?" I ask, even though I know we're closed this Sunday. I'm just being snippy because I'm embarrassed that he scared me as badly as he did.
"Brett," Mom says, walking up behind Dad. "You're lucky she doesn't have my reactions or else your nose would be broken."
Dad glances at the ceiling. "Why do I always feel outnumbered?"
"Because you are," I laugh. "Even when Jake and Alex are present, you are still outnumbered."
Mom laughs. Dad rolls his eyes. I got to grab a fork so I can start the process of curing my grumbling stomach. I ate at Justin's, but that was hours ago and I'm starving now.
Once I've grabbed the fork, I hoist myself up onto the countertop and begin to eat. After a couple of bites, I respond to my dad's question. "Sophia got her dress for grad today. I'm happy for her, but her call just reminded me that I don't have a dress. Justin's excited for grad, but I feel like I'm going to let him down – he's asked me many times about what colour his tie should be." I pause and watch the noodles wrap around the fork as I spin it in a circular motion. "I don't want to disappoint him."
"Honey," Mom says. "There's still plenty of time. We can even go into town tomorrow afternoon if you want. We'll find something Justin and you will love."
I groan, setting my plate down. "You know how much I hate dress shopping, Mom. And it took me hours to find the one for the Winter Formal. Ask Nadira, Jacey, or Sophs – I almost went insane."
Dad, who hasn't been present in this conversation since I brought up my dress situation, snaps his fingers. "Hold that thought, Ads – I'll be right back."
Without another word, Dad walks out of the kitchen and heads upstairs.
Mom and I frown at each other.
"What is he doing?" I ask.
Mom shrugs. "Beats me. Your father, though I love him more than anyone can comprehend, is a weirdo. He has been since the day I met him."
I snort. "Yeah, what kind of Montréaler forgets how to speak English?"
"My point exactly," Mom smiles, leaning against the counter.
As we wait for Dad to come back downstairs, I pick up my plate and begin eating again. I'm almost halfway done by the time Dad returns with a large black box in his hands.
I set my plate down and chew quickly. Is Dad crazy? I can't wear Mom's wedding dress for grad!
"Brett," Mom frowns. "My wedding dress?"
Dad glances between us. Our facial expressions must be similar because he sighs. "Come on you two," he says, "cut me some slack! I'm not that weird."
"One could argue that," Mom murmurs.
I clamp a hand down over my mouth and use a fake cough to cover up a laugh.
"Hey," Dad says to Mom, "you're the one that married me."
Mom smiles. "That's right."
While I love the exchange between my parents – it's absolutely adorable – I want to know what's in the box. I jump down from the counter, my butt feeling numb from the cold, hard surface. "So if that's not Mom's wedding dress in there, then what is it?"
Dad shoots a quick glance at Mom before he turns back to me. "Due to some, uh, inconvenient problems, your Mom and I weren't able to attend our high school grad."
I glance at Mom, who is frowning at the box he's now placed on the island. "I know the story," I reply slowly.
"Well," Dad continues like I haven't said anything. "After your mom woke up from her coma, I tried so hard to get her to go on a date with me, which she eventually did. We went to nice café in Kelowna and then went for a walk down Bernard Avenue until she saw this beautiful outfit on a mannequin in the store window."
Dad glances at Mom, who is now staring at him instead of the box. "You didn't," she whispers.
"Oh, but I did," Dad grins.
I'm lost – really lost. What the heck are they talking about? What do a store and its mannequin have to do with my dress situation?
Directing a beaming smile at me, Dad opens the box and pulls out a burgundy column dress.
My mouth drops open. It's a gorgeous dress. I instantly reach for it, running my fingers over the ruffle split front, inspecting the off-the-shoulder-style sleeves, and feeling the silky fabric. It's so beautiful I could start crying.
"I think it will fit you," Dad says. "But if it doesn't, your aunt is excellent at hemming things. I'm sure she could fix it up if you wanted her to."
I'm excited beyond belief that Dad kept Mom's dress, but a thought occurs to me. My shoulder slump and I shake my head. "I can't wear it," I say. "It was your dress, Mom. You were supposed to wear it."
"But I didn't," she replies. "And that's why I want you to wear it. It's too beautiful to not be seen."
"I..."
"Try it on?" Dad suggests. "If it doesn't fit, then you don't have to wear it. If it does, then you're set and you can avoid the painful process of shopping for a dress."
I contemplate his words. It's such a beautiful dress. And when he holds it out to me, I find myself taking it and walking to the bathroom like a puppet.
In the bathroom, door closed and locked behind me, I stare at the dress in my hands. I feel like I'm stealing something from my mom. She was supposed to wear this dress for her graduation.
But she didn't go, Addie. She couldn't because things were rocky between your parents at that specific time. Where's the harm in wearing a dress that's meant to be seen?
With a deep breath, I quickly strip down and pull the dress on. To my complete and utter fascination, it fits perfectly in every way. I almost start jumping up and down in excitement when I look in the mirror. Because I have my mom's skin – paler than most people – the dress looks fantastic on me. It also hangs on my hips perfectly. The sleeves are dangling a little too low, but that's probably because I can't zip it up all the way.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I head back into the kitchen where I can hear my parents talking.
"I still can't believe you kept it," Mom says.
"Why wouldn't I?" Dad replies. "Like you said, it's too beautiful to not be seen."
They go quiet for a moment and because I know how lovey-dovey my parents can get, I step into the kitchen and clear my throat. The last thing I need to experience is some hot make-out scene between my parents. I love them together, but it's still yucky.
My parents, who are wrapped in each other's arms and definitely close to a hot make-out scene, break apart to look at me.
"Can you, um, zip me up?" I ask, blushing at how intently they're staring at me.
Mom nods and walks over to zip up the dress. When she's done, she takes a step back, nodding her head. "Yes, you're definitely wearing this dress, Addie."
My blush deepens. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Dad replies. "Definitely."
"It does look good," I admit, looking down at the dress.
"Good?" Mom laughs. "Honey, you look absolutely beautiful."
I look up, smiling. "Thanks, Mom."
When I make eye contact with Dad, something inside me breaks and the tears begin to fall. I rush over to Dad and hug him. He hugs me back as I blab. "Thank you so, so much, Dad. You have no idea how much I love this. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Ads," he smiles. "Now, you better go text Justin and let him know about the good news."
I grin at my dad. "So you do like him."
Dad points at me. "I never said I didn't. I'm just one of those dads that hates seeing his little girl grow up. Sue me."
I leave the kitchen, tote bag in hand, giggling like a little girl and head for the bathroom to gather my clothes I left strewn across the floor.
When I'm in my bedroom, I quickly change into my pyjamas and lay the dress down across my bed to admire it. I begin to wonder how I'm going to do my hair and what shoes I'm going to buy and what my makeup should look like.
Pulling my phone from the tote bag, I send a text message to Justin. So I found a dress for grad.
He replies instantly. Picture? ;)
I giggle and snap a picture of the dress.
I meant I wanted to see you in the dress when I asked for a picture. That aside, the dress is stunning.
I shake my head. Too bad, Justin. You're going to have to wait until the day of. Remember to find a tie that matches.
:( But I wanted to see you in it. I seriously can't wait to see you in it.
No can do, buddy. You're stuck waiting.
Fine, he replies.
With my phone in hand, I fall back onto my bed and stare at the ceiling, feeling content and relaxed. And not just because my dress problem has been solved, but also because of how things have been going. Justin's been seizure-free for over three months now. It's the best thing we could have asked for. He's happier now, more confident and independent, and that sparkling, inspiring light in his eyes is stronger and brighter than ever.
I close my eyes and exhale deeply to stop myself from crying.
After all this time, all this resilience he's displayed, his hard work is finally paying off.