Chapter Fifty Eight: Mad World

“I can’t do this anymore, Jubes.”

Bobby Drake awoke with a start, his words echoing mercilessly. Exhaling shakily, he struggled to sit up in his bed. The room seemed to be spinning as he tried to shake off the remnants of the dream. Fear and sadness overwhelmed him, leaving a sense of devastating loss in their wake. He wanted to convince himself that it was only a terrible nightmare and nothing more.

Unfortunately, the realities of the situation undermined his wishful thinking.

As the early morning sun filtered through the blinds and bathed his bedroom in light and warmth, Bobby could only grimace. While most people would experience joy and wonder in response to such simple beauty, he felt removed from these emotions. Anything beyond despondency and hopelessness were now foreign in his world. From his perspective, he deserved nothing else; nothing better.

Because he had hurt the one person who meant everything to him.

Reflecting on the events that transpired yesterday, Bobby tried to seek refuge in the belief that Jubilee would be better off. He was sparing her a life of hardship and misery. In spite of his best efforts to revert back to flesh, the icy patch only seemed to spread, much to his growing dismay and frustration. In the face of such damning evidence, he was forced to consider the possibility of the barrier spreading, consuming his entire body until he was completely encased in ice—as he saw in one of his dreams weeks ago. He thought about the dream version of Jubilee, drained of her beauty, energy, and youth while maintaining a vigil by his bedside. It was an image that haunted him, attacking all of his sensibilities. For Bobby, she represented a fate that he would not allow for his Jubilee. Given this, being chained to a man who could not control his own body was a much worse fate than the demise of their relationship. After all, what could he possibly offer her with the exception of hardship and uncertainty? How could they continue their lives together and build a future given his predicament? These questions reverberated through Bobby’s psyche as he struggled to come to terms with his choice.

For Bobby, arguing that one could be in relationship with a man made of ice was beyond delusional. First of all, physical contact would be impossible. Bobby cited his mother’s reaction at the hospital as indisputable evidence. He could still see her recoiling from him after he held her, the cold sending waves of disbelief to her already shocked system. Initially, he was hurt but in time, he was able to empathize with Maddy. After all, no one wanted to be close to the cold. It was why people often sought shelter and dressed in layers to flee from the bitter harshness. Granted, Bobby knew it was not the intimate aspects that formed the foundation of their relationship, he was aware that limiting them would pose an impact nonetheless. The idea of taking her into his arms for a kiss seemed unfathomable at this point. He could instantly see her drawing away or even worse, putting a brave face despite her discomfort in order to please him.

Even emotional intimacy would be hindered as a result of the icy barrier. With each passing day, Bobby could feel his humanity being drained away by the ice that stretched across his chest. He found it difficult to experience deeper connections with the people around him. In order to mask his ongoing difficulties, Bobby was forced to maintain some distance between himself and his family. He smiled less, became wary of involved engagement, and adopted a steely façade that was devoid of his former carefree self. Unfortunately, this radical change in personality did not go unnoticed. There were several occasions when his mother made enquiries regarding his state of mind. Each time, the younger Drake provided false reassurances that he was fine, stating that he was focused on assisting the family through this difficult time. Although the lies increased his self-loathing, Bobby knew they were very necessary.

With the possibility of being trapped in ice looming, Bobby was confronted with his own naïveté. Prior to his injuries, he never gave a second thought to peers whose mutations were readily apparent. Yes, he empathized with their struggles against prejudice. He was deeply offended whenever friends like Hank or Kurt were harassed or mistreated. But to say that he completely understood what they experienced was not completely accurate. Unlike his friends and others similar to them, Bobby always had the luxury of passing as a “normal”. He was allowed to blend in with the rest of society as he pleased, earning its implicit acceptance through his conformity. Concerns about being chased down, taunted, or attacked were remote. Other than the time when his abilities first appeared, Bobby never directly experienced society’s rejection of individuals like him. He could remain out of harm's way, distancing himself from the dangers others’ ignorance posed.

But now, the younger Drake realized he would no longer be privy to such an existence. He had to accept the possible the likelihood that he would be subjected to the same abuse his friends encountered. Revealing his status whenever it suited him would probably not be an option. His outlook on life and his place in the world had changed. Bobby was forced to accept that his former perspective of safety through normalcy might not apply to him anymore. Mulling over this piece of insight, he was quickly reminded of his father. After years of failing to grasp the motivations behind the elder Drake’s insistence of living their lives in a particular fashion, Bobby found himself suddenly understanding what drove his father’s actions. What had been construed as bigotry, snobbery, and borderline paranoia had actually been an overarching concern for the family’s wellbeing. Bill had wanted to shelter his family, especially his only child from the intolerance the world harboured. At times, his execution left a great deal to be desired. Yet, it was the need to keep those he loved secure and under the radar that prevailed.

Reflecting upon this, Bobby could not help but feel his father’s point of view resonate. Although the idea of being tormented whenever he was away from the mansion and in public was disconcerting, it paled in comparison to the implications for his relationship with Jubilee. By being with him, she would be forced to endure the same treatment. She would be tormented for her involvement with a “filthy mutie” or outed as one herself. Together, they would be besieged by society’s fear and hatred of who they were. Bobby had no doubt of her resilience in the face of intolerance, especially after her experiences at the hands of those who were willing to take their hatred to the extreme. However, the thought of her being punished by society because she chose a life with him made his stomach turn. As the one who loved Jubilee more than life itself, Bobby knew it was his duty to protect her from this fate—even if it meant losing her.

The sandy-haired young man leaned back, sinking into the softness of the pillows propped against the distressed iron and steel headboard. Despite the welcoming comfort of his bed, Bobby felt drained and restless. Every part of him ached. He was haunted by words he had spoken during periods of happiness, by a beautiful face with sapphire eyes that gazed upon him lovingly, and by grief and torment that he was forced to inflict. It was as if slumber were cruelly denying him respite in order to punish him for his actions.

It had taken every ounce of resolve to let Jubilee go. His rational mind was battling against his heart, which desperately wanted to hold on to her. Seeing how deeply hurt his love was only threatened undermine his resolve. As he looked into her hypnotic, old-soul blue eyes, Bobby recalled all the promises he had made to her, the declarations of love and devotion, and the assurances that he would be her sanctuary from the sometimes unforgiving world. Memories of their time together flooded him. Almost immediately, he was taken back to the past where the events of their first kiss, first date, and first time making love played before his eyes. Reliving these moments, Bobby was aware of the deep connection that bound them together. It was something he had never experienced before with anyone else. He had sworn to himself and to Jubilee that he would do anything to protect their love.

But in the end, he had to destroy it.

For her.

The details of that moment were still etched into his brain, refusing to fade with the passage of time. He could still see her beautiful face, wearing that loving and trusting expression reserved just for him. He could hear the bewildered and later, pleading tone in her voice as she attempted to persuade him to reconsider. He could sense her heart breaking when he told her to leave. All of it ate away at Bobby, filling him with infinite depths of self-hatred. Because he swore he would never hurt her and here he was, shattering their world. Not even the altruistic motivations of providing her a better life alleviated the anger, guilt, and pain that consumed him.

For a moment, he had thought about going after her. But in the end, he refrained from doing so. Bobby was at a complete loss as to what he might say. He had just been unbelievably cruel towards her. There were no words to follow up what he had done. Moreover, there was no guarantee that any attempts to explain would assuage her. It was quite possible that he could make matters much worse. Then there was issue of what he was looking to gain by talking to her. Bobby had already made up his mind to let her go. To pursue her again would only send mixed messages and ultimately, lead to further confusion and pain. In the end, he resigned himself to remain at the house, allowing her to think that he was a bastard. After all, such a conclusion was not completely removed from the truth.

As the hours passed, Bobby tried to rationalize what he had done. Not doing so would mean that his actions were groundless and that he had caused her grief for no reason. That was simply something he could not and would not accept. Bobby tried to tell himself that her pain was temporary. Jubilee was a strong person whose ability to overcome the many obstacles laid in her path was nothing short of amazing. Whether it was being tortured by Bastion or experiencing near death at the hands of Friends of Humanity, Jubilee’s capacity to recover and march forward in life was a testament to her inner resolve. There was no doubt that her trademark determination and strength would see her through this. Eventually, she would move on and find happiness with someone else. As for Bobby, he resigned him to the position of being a brief encounter—possibly a mistake—in her past whose memory would hopefully fade with time.

"Love is not always so happy. There will be troubles ahead. It will be up to you to be strong when things look bad. Even when all hope seems lost."

The hauntingly prophetic quality of the old gypsy’s words seemed to eloquently summarize his current predicament. It was hard to believe that she had given him this pearl of wisdom months before. Back then, Bobby tried not to think much about it. There was a part of him that was afraid of the implications. He and Jubilee had been so happy together. In fact, it was difficult for Bobby to recall another time when he felt so ecstatic with another person who made living each day wonderful. To entertain the possibility that such joy could be in jeopardy was out of the question.

Bobby closed his eyes, trying to drown out the brightness of the spring sunshine that enveloped him. There had been a time when they were mulling over a more serious commitment together. It had not been too long ago when the subject of children came up. Thanks to his mother’s overt desire for grandchildren and his father’s less-than-stellar example, Bobby had come to view the prospect of parenthood with some wariness. The closest encounter he had with the idea was when he believed Bobby Tanaka was his. Even then, he struggled with the perception of himself as a father. Although he had promised Opal that he was ready to tackle his responsibilities, such a role remained enigmatic and foreign to him.

However, when discussing the subject with Jubilee, he could not believe how relaxed he was. It seemed only natural that they talk about their future given everything they had been through as a couple. Granted, their conversation had been theoretical in nature without any concrete plans on the horizon. But the fact that he was able to participate in this sort of discussion without wanting to flee or lapse into panic mode was nothing short of miraculous. Bobby found that with Jubilee, there was no trepidation. He knew he could draw strength and support from her without being judged, making him a better man for her and whatever the future might hold for them.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jubes.”

Tears flowed freely as he came to accept his new reality. He had never felt as lost as he did following Jubilee’s departure. Even though he was the one to instigate the events, it did not mean he was immune to resulting heartache. Behind the ice that encapsulated his chest, he could feel his own heart shattering into pieces. He was letting go of the one person who made him feel complete, allowing him to experience joy he never imagined was possible. She saw beyond the pranks, the cheeky remarks, and the loud Hawaiian shirts and loved him all the more. For the first time, he was with someone who wanted nothing more than to be by his side. His happiness had been hers. The idea of never being able to be with her again was almost too much bear. He was no longer privy to gazing into those sapphire eyes, kissing that sweet mouth, breathing in her perfume of bubblegum and cinnamon, sharing his innermost thoughts, and relishing the suppleness of her skin as he made love to her. All of those things were now in his past.

Sighing, he opened his eyes. Competing with the dull and raw ache of his sadness was the muddled confusion that addled his brain. Bobby needed clarity and perspective. As much as he wanted to keep the situation private, there was a part of him that yearned to discuss what transpired. He was not necessarily seeking out approval for his behaviour. Rather, it was simply the desire to keep his feelings of loneliness and isolation at bay. Bobby believed that being heard by another person would accomplish this.

Confiding in his mother was not even an option. The Drake matriarch had enough on her plate and did not need to be burden with the intricacies of his love life. After Jubilee left, Bobby engaged in further deception, telling his mother that his girlfriend was called back to the mansion to cover for someone and issuing false reassurances that everything was fine. He strongly doubted Maddy actually believed him but it was enough to render her silent for the time being. It was as if she knew.

Bobby mentally ran down a list of other possibilities. Although Hank and Warren were his closest friends, he ruled them out as well. Warren was dealing with his own relationship issues and Hank often analyzed emotional difficulties as he would a complex equation. As for other choices, Rogue was currently away on mission. Given how protective the Southern Belle was of Jubilee, a tongue-lashing was certainly in store for him once he told her what he had done. Kurt, not having been involved in many relationships, would probably be at a loss in terms of giving advice.

No, Bobby needed someone who was knowledgeable about these things; someone who would listen without judging. This individual had to be sensitive and empathic but remain firm as to what the right course of action was. There was only person he could trust to fit those requirements.

Jean.

When it was just the five of them, she was the first one to reach out to him. While her interactions with the others were characterized by romantic tension or unrequited affection, the bond she shared with Bobby was different. Theirs was more sibling-like in nature. She coddled him as she would her younger brother, a role he came to cherish. As an only child, Bobby was eager to embrace the dynamics of such a relationship. In turn, he would strive to make her laugh through his terrible impressions, one-liners, and pranks. As time went on, their interactions evolved, giving way to deeper conversations about growing up, their abilities, imagining life away from the school, and the future. During these moments, Bobby could confess insecurities he struggled to conceal from the rest of the world. Jean’s attentive listening and empathic abilities were only matched by the sage counsel she provided.

Despite the passing years and differences in lifestyles, Bobby found he could still depend on Jean. She did not possess Warren’s cynicism or impatience, Hank’s need to rationalize each detail, or Rogue’s mercurial nature depending on the topic. Rather, she was the sympathetic ear who was more inclined to provide guidance rather than chiding him into doing what she believed was appropriate. Unlike her icy blonde peer, Jean was often hesitant to use her abilities to explore the issues. She found the idea of invading the integrity of another person’s consciousness distasteful.

There were times Bobby considered contacting his friend. A myriad of reasons held him back from doing so. Prior to his departure, he had heard stories from various individuals, including Hank and Jubilee, about Jean’s ongoing health problems. According to these accounts, the severity of these difficulties had even forced her to scale back on some of her responsibilities around the school, as a field team member, and as one of the Professor’s trusted emissaries. Anyone who knew the telepath well was aware that she would perceive such developments as distressing. Regretfully, Bobby had been unable to check in on her himself due to his field assignments and later, his father’s stroke. Even now, he continued to feel remorse about not seeing her before leaving.

Although he was unclear regarding the details about Jean’s condition, Bobby felt quite guilty about burdening her with his troubles. For all he knew, she could be dealing with a serious illness. In any case, it was more important for her to concentrate on her health. His problems, as serious as they were, were viewed as relatively minor in comparison. To distract Jean from the road to recovery and wellness filled Bobby with an inordinate amount of guilt.

Then there were the other intricacies of the situation—namely, the fact that Jean, along with Scott, practically raised Jubilee. As an only child, Bobby was cognizant of the fierce protectiveness that fuelled maternal instinct. He witnessed how a mother’s love and devotion could make the most level-headed completely irrational. Even though Bobby wanted to believe that their friendship could weather what happened, there was a part of him that feared her reaction.

Bobby exhaled deeply, raking a hand through his rumpled, sandy hair. He remembered there was a time when he believed that listening to her gentle, soothing voice and peering into those kind green eyes revealed the answers to his many questions. Had the circumstances been different perhaps things would be different. There was a chance that Jean would understand his point of view, or even better yet, assist him in devising a solution to stop this pain.

If only.

Maddy Drake pulled her lavender, terrycloth robe close to her slim form as she stood in the middle of her kitchen. The morning hours found her preparing for the day, mulling over the schedule for herself the rest of the household. However, her thoughts drifted away from the realm of her husband’s ongoing care and treatment. As she made her way to the cabinets, the Drake matriarch was almost blinded by the brilliant sunlight that streamed through the bay windows. She narrowed her cornflower blue eyes. The brightness seemed incompatible to the gloom that now enshrouded her home.

Opening one of the white panelled cupboards, she retrieved a bag of her favourite French roast coffee and began brewing the first pot of the day. The sounds of the built-in grinder were drowned out by reflections of the previous day’s events. She remembered being relegated to the study while Bobby went to the front door. It took every ounce of self-control available not to wander into the hallway in order to observe the reunion. Her child was now an adult, whose affairs merited some level of privacy. Still, as his mother, she could not help but be concerned. There was nothing more in this world she valued than his happiness and wellbeing. As she stood inside the study, Maddy had placed all of her hopes on Jubilee’s visit as a catalyst. Perhaps, the perpetual cloud of despondency that hung over Bobby would dissipate.

Unfortunately, this was not to be.

When Maddy saw Jubilee leaving the Drake home in tears, she felt any semblance of hope slip away. Even now, the Drake matriarch could still hear the squeal of the tires as the yellow Volkswagen Beetle peeled out of the driveway and away from the house. The sound served to emphasize the devastation experienced on all sides. Maddy remembered the sharp pang of her heart sinking as she witnessed the chances of her son returning to his normally carefree and playful self disappear.

Her despondency was soon accompanied by confusion. She had been expecting to shepherd Jubilee into the kitchen for Earl Grey tea and rugelach cookies. She was looking forward to having a conversation that did not centre on her state of mind, how Bill and the rest of the family were adjusting, and stroke rehabilitation. She wanted to see Bobby in a role that did not require him to be so grave and restrained. Instead, Maddy was reeling in disbelief, unsure what to make of the events that unfolded. Almost immediately, a multitude of questions raced through her brain. What happened? Why was Jubilee leaving so suddenly? How could Bobby simply let her go?

Once the initial shock had faded, Maddy was able to compose herself. The journey from the study to the foyer where her son stood had been an agonizingly slow one. She wanted to hide the fact that she had observed what transpired. There was that nagging voice in the back of her mind reminding her that Bobby was no longer the child who required her coddling whenever he encountered some dilemma. Moreover, by feigning ignorance, the Drake matriarch thought Bobby would have been more likely to confide in her. Although she had no illusions about having the answers, Maddy was willing to do anything she could to help.

She supposed much of her desperation stemmed from Bobby’s uncharacteristically distant behaviour in the days that followed his return to Long Island. There were countless times Maddy tried to reach out to him, telling him that it was acceptable for him to vulnerable. She told her son that it was not necessary to shoulder the burden alone. Her gentle reminders that he did not have to be the rock were often dismissed. Even attempts to hug him were rebuffed, exacerbating the heartache she was already experiencing. If there was ever a time when she needed to feel the reassuring touch of a loved one, it was now.

As the weeks passed since Bill’s stroke, Maddy noted that the young man who was sharing the responsibilities of caring for Bill was not the Bobby she knew. He was reticent, rarely laughing or joking. The conversations he participated in were geared towards aspects pertaining to Bill’s therapy, household expenses, or day-to-day chores. Anything beyond those topics was never broached. Whenever Maddy attempted to introduce other areas into their discussions, Bobby quickly closed himself off. His tone became curt and his eyes took on a more steely quality. The resemblance to his father during those moments was uncanny.

This was particularly evident when his mother inquired about Jubilee. The younger Drake was often evasive, refusing to address her questions and issuing false assurances that all was well. Tried as Maddy to press him, Bobby stood his ground. His relationship and Jubilee were not to be discussed. He further argued that Bill’s recovery should be the primary focus at the moment. When confronted with this line of reasoning, it was difficult for Maddy continue her questioning.

Still, the Drake matriarch was troubled. As much as she appreciated her son’s support, it pained her to see him acting like a shadow of his former self. Bobby’s devotion to his role as the sole caretaker for the household had taken its toll. The fact that he was blind to or denying the impact was even more disconcerting. It was as if he depended on playing this part, no matter the cost to his own wellbeing.

But why did he feel compel to act this way? Bobby was aware, as Maddy was, of the fatigue many caretakers experience. In fact, he often reminded her to take some time for herself. He encouraged his mother to reconnect with her friends or pursue her hobbies. However, whenever he was asked to take some time for himself as well, Bobby refused. Queries as to why were met with vague replies, which were followed by his insistence that he was fine to continue.

But that was a lie.

Maddy remembered the moment she found Bobby at the front door. Her stomach twisted inside as she was confronted with an image no mother wished to see. There was her child, crying as if his heart had broken into a million pieces. Gone was the controlled exterior he was determined to portray to the rest of the world. He was now vulnerable, his need for comfort emanating with each sob that wracked his body. Instinctively, Maddy did what any mother in her position would have done—she tried to wrap her arms around him.

What he did in response was utterly disheartening.

With almost catlike reflexes, Bobby ducked out of his mother’s reach. His grey eyes resumed their steely quality as he abruptly brushed away his tears with the back of his hand. The expression he wore was a mixture of various emotions—indignation, surprise, and misery. It was nothing Maddy ever witnessed before. Simply observing her son’s wounded state sent a shiver through her soul.

What seemed like eons was merely a few seconds as she made another attempt to comfort her son. Again, her efforts were rejected. Maddy recalled feeling rather bewildered. There was nothing more she wanted to do than to ease Bobby’s suffering, assure him that there was no need to play the hero all the time, and tell him that he had her love and support no matter what. But he would have no part of it.

Feeling increasingly helpless, Maddy had devised another approach. She willed to keep her arms at her sides as she began to implore her son to talk to her. Great care was taken in order to ensure that she was not seen as badgering him into disclosing. Rather, her throaty voice conveyed her sympathy and her unconditional regard for him as her child. She started with the most obvious of questions.

“Bobby, what happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine, Mom. Really. Don’t worry about it.”

“I have to worry about you. I’m your mother.”

“Well, I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about. I’m OK.”

“I thought she was going to come in and…”

“Yeah, well.. I guess things changed. She had to leave.”

“Why?”

“I… She was called away.”

“Is that why you’re upset?”

“Mom, I told you I’m fine. Please, can we just drop this? I really don’t feel like talking about it.”

“Bobby, it’s perfectly alright if you just after her and—”

“Mom, it’s over. Just stop.” It was now his turn to plead.

Against her better judgment, Maddy had allowed him respite from the onslaught of questions. Seeing him so lost and forlorn then undermined her resolve. Ending the conversation seemed like the merciful option. Looking back, she wished she was more persistent. Perhaps she could have done more.

If only.

Her reverie was shattered when she heard footsteps across the pine floor. Turning around, she saw Bobby sauntering into the kitchen. He was pulling on a navy-and-white striped, crewneck sweater over an olive-green T-shirt and seersucker shorts. His face was pale and haggard as he ran his fingers through his rumpled, sandy locks.

“Morning,” he said in greeting, grey eyes dull as he made his way to the coffee maker. The promise of caffeine after another restless night was something his system desperately craved.

Maddy should have been taken aback by her son’s distressed appearance. Unfortunately, what met her perpetually concerned gaze had become a regular sight these days. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she replied, trying to mask her dismay as she went to the cupboards to retrieve two porcelain mugs and saucers. “How did you sleep?”

Bobby grimaced. It was quite obvious that his mother knew full well what the answer was. She was taking great care in not looking directly at him. Her movements seemed uneasy as she prepared to serve coffee alongside the sticky buns she had baked last night. The fact that she was still able to read him quite easily should not have surprised him. She was, after all, his mother.

However, that did not mean that he would consequently break. Bobby was very much determined to keep his turmoil to himself. “OK,” he lied, realizing the dark circles under his eyes told another story. “And you?”

Maddy was pouring coffee into the mugs while continuing to avert her son’s eyes. “Oh, the usual,” she replied, her voice sounding huskier than usual. “Could you get the cream and sugar out, dear?”

The younger Drake tried not to wince while he made his way to the stainless steel refrigerator. These days, "the usual" meant roughly four hours. He often heard her pacing back and forth in the nearby guestroom with the light escaping from underneath the door.

“There we are,” she announced, bringing the coffee and sticky buns to the solid maple kitchen island. She set everything on top of the butcher block table top before seating herself in one of the white-washed stools.

Bobby placed the carton of cream and the sugar bowl in front of his mother and took a seat across from her. He began to tear apart the pastry, the caramelized pecans falling onto his plate as he popped a piece into his mouth. The sweetness of the glaze was a perfect complement to the buttery texture of the dough. Apparently, the pressures and added responsibility of overseeing Bill’s care did not diminish Maddy’s culinary talents.

She quickly stirred in the cream into her coffee, watching the dark liquid lighten. Then she raised the mug to her mouth and took a sip. “Do you have any plans for today?” she inquired, appreciating the flavourful notes of dark chocolate, nutmeg, and caramel.

He peered into his mother’s genteel face, searching for any hidden meaning to her words. Do you plan on calling Jubilee? Are you going to see her? Can’t you tell me what really happened yesterday? Why are you holding back from me? The beseeching quality in her cornflower blue eyes served to accentuate her desperate need for answers.

As much as he hated to disappoint Maddy, he found himself doing so once again. “No, I don’t,” he said flatly, spooning sugar into his own cup of coffee. “No plans at all.”

Maddy bit her lower lip, trying to keep it from trembling. It was frightening how much Bobby reminded her of Bill right now. Physical likeness aside, the manner in which he withdrew himself during times of duress was something his father would do. Often, Bill justified his actions by purporting to be shielding his loved ones from harm or stress, from a world he sometimes viewed as threatening. There was no doubt that the younger Drake was operating in a similar fashion. As noble as the intentions were, the effect of the behaviours were still devastating.

She put her mug down and placed her hand over that of her son. “You know you can tell me anything,” she began in her froggy but soothing voice. “Just because of what’s happening now with your father…it doesn’t mean I’m going to fall apart. I’m your mother and I love you. I want you to come to me with whatever’s bothering you. I can’t promise you that I’ll be able to make your problems go away but I can say that I will do everything in my power to help you and support you. Please know and remember that, sweetheart.”

Bobby did not think it was possible for him to feel any worse. However, when he saw his mother’s anguished face, his contempt towards himself seemed to increase ten-fold. Inwardly, he wished for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. In his efforts to safeguard Maddy against any additional stressors, he had achieved the exact opposite result. The imploring tone that coloured her voice and the worry lines etched into her face provided evidence of that.

It was difficult for him not to be affected by her words and the comforting hand that covered his. He was reminded of times when he was a little boy, scraping his knees and dolefully running to her to be soothed. As he grew older, his needs changed in response to the complexities of his life. However, there was never a doubt of his mother’s love for him. It was one of those rare things Bobby knew he could depend on. As he studied her face, he was aware she genuinely meant everything she had just said.

Briefly, he considered obliging Maddy, sharing the details of his own hellish ordeal—the icy patch consuming his upper body, his resulting fears, and his motives for breaking up with Jubilee. However, Bobby restrained himself. Although he wanted to alleviate his mother’s anxiety, the younger Drake knew this was minor compared to the stress she was experiencing from her already full plate. Again, he could not bear to pile his problems on top of all of that. With a weary smile, he took her hand and pressed it against his mouth before leaving the table with his coffee.

Bill Drake was sitting up in bed, propped up by pillows laid against the high-panelled headboard. The late morning sunshine streamed in through the blinds and cast a soft glow to the room’s mustard-coloured walls. Unlike his wife and their son, he did not have any misgivings towards the brilliance of the springtime rays. While he did not embrace their presence, the Drake patriarch held no contempt for them, either. They were just part of the days that passed along and nothing more.

Weeks had passed since the stroke that rendered him a prisoner in his own body. The initial shock soon gave way to frustration as he struggled to come to terms with his new existence. Things that had been second-nature to him were now part of a rehabilitation curriculum or required assistance. Even basic communication proved to be arduous. His body was cruelly betraying him, disappointing him in almost every way imaginable. The patronizing tone from the doctors, counsellors, and nurses, who told him that it was normal to be angry and that he was not alone in his experience, enraged him even more. They had control over their bodies. They were not relegated to therapeutic activities that were at times, demeaning. They were not burdens to their families. They did not cause their loved ones immeasurable amounts of anguish.

Bill’s irritation with every aspect of his treatment was further exacerbated with what he perceived as his lack of progress. Granted, he was now farther along than he was when he first arrived home. At least now, he was able to use the restroom, get dressed, and eat without assistance. There were also improvements in his reading and writing, where he no longer inverted words or scrambled letters. But from the elder Drake’s perspective, such gains were insufficient. He yearned to feel whole, to be the man his family had known, and to be the source of strength that held them together. The fact that he was removed from any of those things made him feel powerless and filled him with shame.

Not being able to move parts of his body, the constant numbness on the right side of his face, difficulties retaining newly learned information and feeling as if his tongue were constantly tied in knots made him wonder if he would ever return to his former self. With the therapeutic results appearing more and more minimal, Bill was finding himself discouraged. He felt drained as he contemplated the road ahead. The Drake patriarch concluded that he had reached a plateau and not much more would be achieved. Any more investment of energy would be futile. It was too exhausting to fight.

So he became passive participant in this process. Bill allowed Maddy and Bobby to be the decision-makers, following their directives pertaining to his care and treatment. It was rare for him to express an opinion despite their attempts to engage him. Rather than try to speak, he relied on scribbling his responses on a notepad or utilizing simple gestures. During his therapy appointments, it was not uncommon for him to simply sit back and pretend to listen to the clinician. Apathy had seized him in its insidious grasp.

Yet, for all of these disappointments, there was one consequence of the stroke that continued to leave Bill reeling. Since his return from the hospital, he felt as if he were an outsider in his own home. During his interactions with Maddy and Bobby, he could detect something was amiss. Although they were engaged while attending to his needs, the Drake patriarch harboured suspicions that both were holding things back from him. For Maddy, it was clear she was struggling to maintain her genteel front in the face of what happened. She seemed afraid of allowing her fear and frustration to surface. Her weary eyes that appeared as if they spent many nights crying, her skittish movements, and the constant trembling that affected her lower lip provided evidence of the fragile façade. There were times when Bill had expected her to break down in front of him only to excuse herself and flee to another room to sob. Seeing his wife drowning like this and knowing there was little he could do to save her made him consider the pleasantries of dying that day.

As for his son, Bill had noticed changes in the boy’s personality early on. He was reserved and serious. There were no more of those jokes or terrible impressions that elicited cringes from his father. Rather, their conversations were restricted to issues regarding his care or more neutral topics, such as preferences for meals. Smiles or laughs were rarer in comparison. Even more striking was the physical transformation. Bobby’s eyes, which seemed to perpetually twinkling with mischief, had taken on a dull quality that appeared steely at times. His face was often haggard, revealing the sleepless nights that must be plaguing him. He also looked older now, his boyish face possessing harder edges after some weight loss. Unlike Maddy, there was an eerie self-possession and control Bobby put on display. It frightened Bill to witness such a radical change in his child. At times, he seemed to be looking into a mirror, gazing upon a reflection of himself from years ago.

The sacrifices Bobby had made were not lost on his father. The Drake patriarch was aware that his son left behind his life in Westchester to assist with caretaking duties. He was probably worried about his responsibilities around the school, yearned for activities that were not depressing or mundane as overseeing therapy, missed his friends and colleagues, and…her.

The nostrils of Bill’s slightly crooked nose flared as he inhaled sharply. Bobby’s girlfriend. The very idea of her roused a myriad of emotions for the elder Drake. It seemed like eons ago when they first met that Thanksgiving weekend. What had been a turbulent beginning during dinner soon gave way to some mutual understanding. Granted, it was an uneasy one but it was an understanding nonetheless. It had turned out that both parties had a single commonality—Bobby’s wellbeing. At first, Bill was shocked by this revelation. Her brilliant eyes were grave as she confessed her feelings to him, uttering words that conveyed the attachment she had to his son. The elder Drake’s behaviour did nothing to change the intensity of emotions or the degree of devotion to Bobby. Her sincerity was humbling, forcing him to re-evaluate his initial appraisal of her, which was a difficult feat. Although there was no doubt that she made his son happy, there was still the fact that she was a mutant, an outcast in larger society. Her status placed herself and by association, Bobby, in constant danger. No amount of rationalization would change that truth. While the younger Drake would argue that he and his girlfriend were quite capable of defending themselves, his father wished that they would not have to resort to such options. Life would be so much easier and safer if they were able to be…normal.

He remembered the day of Ellie’s christening. Watching Bobby and Jubilee with the baby immediately summoned thoughts about their future. It was not that Bill detested the idea of grandchildren. Deep down, he shared his wife’s desire for little feet tumbling about their home. However, this wish was tempered by a sense of dread. While he was no expert on genetics, it was reasonable to assume that any children would be like…them. It was one thing for two adults who were trained to handle the ignorance and perils posed by others but including a child in the equation seemed so reckless. However, as Bill continued to observe the couple, he noticed how natural they were with the baby. His son’s protective arms around the child and the smiles he exchanged with Jubilee made it clear that both were prepared for whatever lay ahead.

Ambivalent as he still was about the girl, he needed to put Bobby’s happiness first. Efforts had to be made. While Maddy’s gentle prodding helped him towards this course of thinking, it was seeing his son’s fierce protectiveness and his own admission regarding the serious nature of the relationship that sealed things. Listening to his son talk about her during the holidays, Bill was reminded of himself. It was not too long ago that he experienced comparable feelings when he and Maddy were dating. With his son acting in a similar role, Bill suddenly felt a connection he thought was lost when Bobby manifested his abilities.

The aftermath of yesterday’s events left Bill in a state of puzzlement. Although he was upstairs in his bedroom during Jubilee’s brief visit, the Drake patriarch was able to hear the voices, the crying, the closing of the door, and the squealing of tires. Like his wife, he had been expecting the arrival of their son’s girlfriend to draw Bobby out of his withdrawn existence. After all, this was the girl his son professed to seriously care about. She was the one who was worthy of wearing his mother’s ring.

So why? Why did she leave? Why didn’t Bobby go after her?

In the hours that followed, Bill’s curiosity intensified. He was anxious to learn anything about the encounter. Unfortunately, it was Maddy and not Bobby who came by his room later day. Bobby had closed himself off in his bedroom. As for his wife, she seemed at a loss to explain what transpired. She merely mentioned that according to Bobby, Jubilee had stopped by before being called back to the mansion for some urgent business. However, the wariness in her cornflower blue eyes relayed her doubts about the veracity of this.

“Do you have any threes, Dad?” Bobby piped up, shattering his father’s internal musings.

Bill blinked as he returned to the present. His grey eyes narrowed as he peered down at the cards clutched in his hands. He and the younger Drake were in the midst of another round of Go Fish. Bill’s occupational therapist, Linden, had recommended that the family try playing games to supplement his treatment, as well as improve skills unaffected by the stroke. While he was hesitant to participate, the elder Drake found himself looking forward to these activities. The repetitive nature of certain games, notably Go Fish, was a welcome reprieve from the intensity of rehab.

Upon discovering he did not have the requested cards, he shook his head. “G-g-go…f-f—” His lower lip quivered as he struggled to force the muscles inside his mouth to formulate the words. The familiar heaviness of frustration settled upon him when the simple phrase would not pass from his lips. Angry, the Drake patriarch sat back and scowled.

Bobby, seated on a padded bench by his father’s bedside, swallowed hard. Linden instructed that the family encourage Bill to work on speaking and to rely less on writing things down. Before leaving to run her errands for the day, Maddy had confiscated her husband’s notepads. While Bobby understood the therapeutic rationale, he could not help but wonder if it was doing more harm than good at the moment. He was afraid his father’s growing levels of disillusionment would cause him to retreat further into passivity.

Still, Bobby was determined to follow through with the therapist’s advice. There was a part of him that held out hope for his father. He wanted to believe that he would get better and that this depression, which held the elder Drake back, was transient.

Taking a deep breath, Bobby asked, “Should we keep going?”

His father placed his cards on the ebony, one-drawer nightstand nearby. He was aware why Bobby wanted to press on. However, given his stumbling and pathetic attempt at stringing together a simple phrase, Bill was no longer in the mood. Silently, he shook his head, appearing small in his orange-and-blue plaid shirt and pressed chinos.

Deflated, Bobby felt his shoulders sink. He quickly regained his composure and began to collect the cards. “OK, then,” he said in a calm and even voice. “What do you want to do? We’ve got some time before Mom gets home with lunch.” Already, Bobby was running through his mind as to what other games they could play.

The thought of another round was less than appealing at the moment. As he focused on trying to relay his sentiments, Bill suddenly thought of something else—something he wanted to address. Shaking his head, he forced his lips to move. “Ju…Ju…Billie.”

The younger Drake was taken aback, his mouth nearly gaping open. For a second, he thought he had misinterpreted his father’s response. His sandy brows furrowed together, trying to overcome his shock. Bill, the only member of the Drake family who expressed reservations about Jubilee, was now expressing a desire to talk about her? Could this really be true?

Before Bobby could obtain clarification, his father licked his chapped lips and pointed a finger at him. “Ju…Billie… Here.” Then his steely grey eyes softened slightly as he stared at Bobby.

How does he know? Bobby wondered, incredulous. How could he possibly know that she was here? As far as he knew, Bill was upstairs in his room during Jubilee’s brief visit. Was it possible that he heard her or seen something? Perhaps his mother had mentioned something to him yesterday? Immediately, Bobby searched for clues from his father. He was dismayed when his gaze met his father’s unreadable mask.

The younger Drake began to rack his brain, fumbling for something to say in order to move away from the topic. For some reason, evasive manoeuvring was easier with Maddy than with Bill. She was always ready to allow him some slack under the pretence of respecting his autonomy. This was in spite of her need to coddle him, doting on him as she did many years ago.

However, the dynamics with his father were vastly different. Bill was quick to directly flesh out the issue in order to address it accordingly. The pretence of tact was often lost in the pursuit of the truth. Even now, under the scrutiny of his father’s stare, Bobby realized that the stroke did little change that aspect. It was becoming increasingly clear that he would not be afforded the luxuries of denial and deception.

He placed the deck of cards onto the nightstand and mulled over the situation. The thought of confessing everything to another person would have been daunting. After all, he had pushed others away under the guise of protecting them from his harsh reality. His mother and Jubilee had been hurt because he wanted to keep them safe in their ignorance. With his mother, it was fear of further burdening her with more heartache over his deteriorating state. For Jubilee, this reason was also accompanied by his desire to allow her a better life, one that did not include being tied down to his defect.

However, Bobby viewed things differently with Bill. He should have been extremely wary to confide in his father, especially given his current condition. Yet, he was not. Out of everyone, the elder Drake was the most likely to understand his perspective. He could relate to Bobby’s fears, the desperation, the guilt, and the self-loathing. The past several weeks during which Bill shared his inner most thoughts with his son through that journal entry, revealed commonalities between the two men. It was strange but comforting at the same time.

Bobby realized he was not alone.

Leaning forward in his seat, he clasped his hands together and began to talk. He started with the injury and the terror that seized him when he was unable to transform himself. Bobby choked back tears as he went into detail about his attempts to find a solution—asking Hank to intervene, his own efforts to concentrate and focus. His tone was increasingly despondent when he discussed the extent of the ice patch and how it was spreading further and further. The younger Drake found himself shaking while talking about the implications of the mutation, leading to his decision to let Jubilee go. Disgust, guilt, and shame clouded over him when outlined the events that transpired the day before. It had taken every ounce of determination to finish his admission.

Finally, Bobby glumly concluded with, “So I ended things with her… Because she deserves better and I can’t make her happy anymore.”

Bill stared at his son, stunned. There was so much running through his mind at the moment but he was reeling from everything Bobby had just revealed. It was difficult to immediately put it all into words, especially in the context of his current disabilities. But he knew no matter what, he needed to respond.

He swallowed hard, summoning the effort to respond to his son’s confession. “F-fool,” he finally spat out. His grey eyes flashed at him as he pursed his lips with what could only be construed as disgust.

Bobby stared at his father in disbelief. This was definitely not the reaction he had been expecting. “Dad?”

Much to their collective amazement, Bill continued. “You’re a g-goddamn fool, Bobby.” The elder Drake scowled, emphasizing the anger and irritation in his tone and in his words. What are you thinking? Were you thinking? Why would you do such a thing?

Normally, Bobby would have been deeply wounded to hear such words from his father. However, this was overshadowed by the utter amazing nature of the moment. This was the first sentence Bill had put together since the stroke. It was difficult not to be reeling.

“Bill?” Maddy’s throaty voice cut through the silence. Standing in the doorway, she had made her way upstairs after returning from their favourite deli. When she heard her husband speaking clearly in that voice she thought had gone, her vision became blurry from the tears welling up. Trembling hands flew to her cheeks, brushing the saline away.

Bill felt his chest tighten as his wife made her way to the bed. When she sat down, she took his hand in hers. Her weary features suddenly brightened as she stared deeply into his eyes. For the first time in weeks, there was something beyond fear and sadness. He sensed the presence of this new sensation, vowing not to allow it to slip away. Managing a crooked smile, Bill squeezed Maddy’s hand gently. His smile broadened when his wife laughed and rested her forehead against his.

Meanwhile, Bobby was still overwhelmed by the moment. Never in his wildest dreams would he dared to imagine something like this would happen. In the aftermath of the stroke, he and the rest of the family, including Bill himself, had given up on hope. There seemed to be an unspoken acceptance among the Drakes that nothing would improve. Even his mother’s seemingly eternal optimistic point of view had been undermined. The Drake patriarch’s difficulties with oral expression had rendered him a resentfully silent shell of his former self, one that was lost to the family for what seemed forever. But, after hearing him speak his first sentence, there was a sense of change in the air. The world was now full of possibilities.

It was all too much.

The trio were startled upon hearing the doorbell at the door. Jumping to his feet, a nervous Bobby announced that he would answer it before scurrying out of the room and down the stairs. He had to leave that room. The air had grown thick and suffocating. There was also the possibility of questions—questions he was not completely ready to address yet.

He was too preoccupied with Bill’s startling outburst that he did not wonder who was on the front step. When he opened the door, Bobby felt another blow strike him as he was surprised once again. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Warren and Hank exchanged perplexed looks before returning their eyes to their friend. Both were disturbed by the image that confronted them. This person purporting to be Bobby was a far cry from the perpetually mischievous and boyishly handsome man they knew. The man standing before them looked much older. He was thinner, and his face pale, drawn, and ravaged from stress and lack of sleep. The carefree air about him was replaced by one that was characterized by cautious reserve. Surely, this was not Bobby Drake, the man who thrived on laughter and levity.

Recovering from the initial shock, Warren was the first to speak up. “Can we come in?” the tall, blond Adonis asked quietly. He looked especially grave in his finely tailored, black wool suit, crisp blue shirt, and burgundy-and-navy striped tie.

Bobby wanted to tell him that it was not good time, which was not completely far from the truth. But given that his friends had driven quite some distance to see him, he could only conclude that their reasons were important. The sombre expressions both men wore also conveyed the serious nature of their visit. Opening the door wider, he motioned for them to step inside.

“Thank you,” Hank said softly as his young friend closed the door behind them. He stuffed his large, blue hands into the pockets of the grey overcoat he wore over his navy pinstriped suit, white dress shirt, and red silk tie.

“So, how are things going, Bobby?” Warren asked, running a tanned hand through his golden waves. It suddenly struck him that he had not been to the Drake residence in several years. He had forgotten how welcoming it was with its tan walls and wainscoting, accented by the scent of Canadian pine needles, cedar, cinnamon, and thyme in the air.

Bobby frowned quizzically as he led his friends into the living room. Since leaving the school to care for his father, he had allowed himself to lag behind in his emails to his friends. Seeing his friends here now elicited a pang of guilt for not being more thoughtful. However, that was not what elicited his reaction. It was the manner in which Warren posed his question. There was something in the other man’s voice—something that filled Bobby with a sense of unease.

“It’s been a challenging couple of weeks,” he admitted, gesturing for them to sit down on the chino-upholstered sofa. “But I guess that’s to be expected.” His voice sounded uncharacteristically harsh as he spoke, causing him to wince.

Neither Warren nor Hank seated themselves. Instead, the two men chose to remain on their feet. Their choice struck Bobby as rather odd but then again, there seemed to be very little normalcy in this visit. He initially suspected the motive for their arrival might have stemmed from concern over his wellbeing and state of mind following his father’s stroke. Years ago, they had paid him a similar visit in the aftermath of the assault, offering whatever support they could provide. But as he peered over at his two closest friends, he was growing aware that this was not necessarily the case. No, something else brought them here.

“So,” he drawled after several tense seconds of silence, “what brings you guys over here?”

Hank’s head snapped up. It was then that Bobby saw the other man eyes were red, welling with tears. “Something happened last night,” he began, finding it difficult to speak. His normally calm demeanour seemed to be a distant memory given his current state. He felt as if he were choking on each word uttered.

Bobby’s brows shot upwards, alarm coursing through his veins. “What happened?” he demanded.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to continue with his disclosure. “The school was attacked…”

“What?” Bobby felt his face drain of all colour. Almost instantly, his thoughts went to Jubilee. The thought of her being hurt, particularly following their last conversation, made his insides twist and turn. Inwardly, he pleaded for her safety, placing his own life as a bargaining chip. “Is everyone alright? Jubilee…” He placed a hand over his mouth, panic seizing him as he said her name. Oh please no…

Hank shook his head ruefully, wiping the tears away from a handkerchief retrieved from his pocket. “Jubilee is fine,” he assured Bobby, his voice cracking. “But…”

Relief washed over Bobby once he learned Jubilee was safe. However, this was short-lived when he saw that the larger man’s body was being racked by shuddering sobs. “But what? What happened?” he asked, feeling as if the suspense threatened his sanity.

Warren placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, sensing the pain that kept him from finishing his sentence. His own grief nearly overwhelmed him as he struggled to speak. Somehow, he was able to summon the strength to deliver the devastating news. “Jean’s dead.”