Celebrating Christmas at the Mansion just makes me sick to my stomach. The food was okay, more than okay, if I have to admit. But listening to all those people cheering, singing and sharing friendly hugs was just disgusting. I don't fit here. I never will.
— So, what would it be?
Bobby is not sleeping yet and he wants to chat. He always wants to chat. I hate him.
— What do you mean?
He sighs.
— The ghost, John! Which one would you choose?
I roll my eyes. He didn't forget about the question I didn't answer earlier. If I could which Dickens's ghost would I choose to meet: Past, Present or Future?
— Ghosts don't exist, Ice cube, I drawl.
— That's not the point.
He is bothering me. I want to sleep and try to digest that enormous turkey. I sigh. The Present is just so annoying, ridiculous; I definitely wouldn't choose that one. The Future, maybe? No. I can lie to everyone but I can't lie to myself. I'm too much of a coward to pick a look in the Future. You never know what's waiting for you.
— The Past, I answer. Now, if you don't mind – and even if you do mind – I'm gonna sleep.
Bobby Boy is silent for a moment. I smile.
— Is it because of your mother? He whispers.
I grit my teeth. No one is allowed to talk about my mother.
— So what? Wouldn't you like to come back to the Past a few minutes to see your lovely family times? To see how much they cared for you before they discovered you're a mutant.
It's unfair to talk to him like that. I know it. He didn't mean wrong. But I don't like to remember the only person who ever loved me and died trying to protect me.
— The Present.
He barely whispered it but I heard.
— What?
— Do you want to know why would I choose it?
I'm not sure I want to know but he goes on whatsoever.
— Because of you.
I swallow with difficulty. My heart is beating fast in my ribcage. My cheeks are warming. Damn him! I don't answer. I don't know what to answer. What does he want from me? I don't have anything left to give. I turn my back on him.
— Good night, Bobby.
— Sleep well, John.
I'm biting hard on my lips. I'm listening to his breath. I can feel his eyes burning in my neck. I'm so hot I'm afraid I'll combust. Stupid Bobby!
— Present… Present isn't that bad, I whisper.
I don't know if he heard me, I'm not sure I wanted him to but I felt better saying it nonetheless. Maybe I'd like to have a glimpse of the future to see how Bobby will try to get to me. I won't make it easy, I'm not easy, but I'm pretty sure that in the end, when it comes to feeling, Bobby is not as much a coward as I am. And I'm grateful for that.