When I finally awoke from a seemingly endless slumber, the first thing that I noticed was the darkness. It was pitch black-worse than the darkest night. Obviously, I had awoken in the middle of the night. But the confusing part was to why I couldn't even see the moon through the windows above my usual couch bed.

Then, I realized that I wasn't on the couch; I was in Dad's bedroom that he occupied while he came to see us. How very odd.

I rolled my head to the side as my eyes adjusted to the dark and saw a figure sitting by the bed, head clasped between their hands. Reaching my hand out, I touched their knee softly.

Immediately, they jerked awake and then sighed at seeing that it was only I. "'Lanzie…" the person said, and I instantly knew that it was Dad who was by my side.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you don't hurt yourself."

"I'll be fine, the seizures are over," I replied.

"Just have to be sure."

I laughed slightly in the darkness and glanced to the door where a sliver of pale light shone underneath. "Mom still up?" I asked.

"Prob'ly. I wouldn't know. I've been sitting here for a couple hours now."

"Oh." In the darkness of the room, I saw him reach up to tenderly touch his lip, then look at his fingers as if checking for something, and finally drop his hand back onto his leg. "Sorry," I apologized, knowing that I had done something to him.

"God, Alanza, a bloody lip isn't anything compared to a lot of the shit I've had."

"Still."

"Still it's a bloody lip, and I probably ruined your dress by bleeding on it." After he had said that, I realized that I was still wearing my beautiful dress from the date with James. I indeed could feel the hardened blood on my nylons. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any on the actual dress, and I would be able to wear it again. After all, it was such a pretty dress.

In the night. Dad reached for my hand and, surprisingly, he hung onto it almost in a loving manner. Using his thumb, he rubbed the back of my hand with soft, gentle strokes. I watched his face carefully, trying to see what he was thinking; I was far too tired and weak to read his mind.

He stopped caressing my hand and gave me an almost quizzical look. "You're fuzzy."

"Yeah? I haven't had time to shave." So, copying him, I reached up and touched the side of his face where he hadn't shaved yet. "And you're prickly."

"I haven't had time to shave," he said, laughing slightly.

In the distance, outside the bedroom, the phone rang. I heard Mom answer it and knock slightly on the door. "Zack?" she whispered. "Alanza up?"

"Yes," I replied before Dad had a chance to. Slowly and stiffly, I rose out of the bed. I had to sit at the foot of it for a moment or two as the blood rushed out of my head. Finally, I pushed myself up and opened the door, letting the bright kitchen light spill over me.

Mom stood just outside the door and offered an arm to support me as I came out. "I'm fine," I argued and walked over to where the phone sat. I picked it up and put my thumb over the mouthpiece so that the person on the other end wouldn't hear me. "Who is it?" I asked.

"It's James. He's been calling all day and most of the night while you were asleep."

"I slept a whole day?"
Mom nodded. "Yes."

I rubbed my temples in frustration and tried not to scream. "What time is it now?"

"Close to midnight."

I nodded slowly and almost blankly as I picked up the phone and spoke to James. "Hello? James?"
"Alanza?" He sounded amazed and scared all at once. Well, I guess seeing his girlfriend collapse in a restaurant, then having her biker parents carry her out, gives someone a reason to be amazed and scared.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

There was a considerably long pause before James finally blurted, "I was worried to death about you!"

"Seriously, James, I'm fine."

"I didn't know what to think. I mean, I thought you were going to die or something."

"I just have seizures."

"Pretty bad ones."

I shrugged to myself. "It's life." Then, changing the subject I asked, "How'd the rest of dinner go?"

"I left nearly right after you did. The manager didn't charge us anything considering we hadn't even eaten. Since then, I've been trying to get a hold of you to see if you're all right."

"Glad we didn't get charged."

"The manager even apologized for reasons I really don't understand."

"James?"

"Yeah, Alanza?"

"You want to try dinner again?"

"What? You just woke up from sleeping a day and you want to have dinner?"

"It's kinda my fault our date got screwed up. How's tomorrow looking for you?"
"Tomorrow?" he echoed.

"Yep, tomorrow. How about six?"

"Alanza, don't you think it's a little soon to start going out and stuff. I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Look," I said to him, "the seizures are just another pothole down this road called Memory Lane that I happen to visit every so often. You drive over the pothole, let it shake the car up a bit, then continue onward. And I want to continue."

"You sure?"

"Definitely. Is six good with you? I'll pick you up."

He sighed heavily, almost exasperated with my stubbornness. "Six is good with me."

"Great, and this time? I promise you can finish the rest of your milk-on your own."