No, Matt had to agree.
“I’m so sorry, Gloria,” Mrs. Hudson said. “And, Henry. If I’d had any idea Vincent would do this . . .”
“You’d what?” Gaga said, her voice bitter through her tears. “Not have married Matthew? Stayed where you were?”
Mrs. Hudson closed her mouth and shrunk back a little. Mr. Hudson put his arm around his wife. “Belamie is saying she’s sorry, that’s all. We were all doing what we thought was best at the time. None of us could have predicted all that it would affect. Surely you can appreciate that.”
Gaga took a deep breath. “I can. I’m sorry, Belamie. I know it’s not your fault, and maybe there’s nothing you can do, but it’s all just . . . so overwhelming.”
“We have to do something,” Ruby said. “We can’t give up. We have to fight.”
“Yeah,” Corey said. “Nobody messes with the Hudsons and gets away with it! This means war!”
“Whoa, there. Hold your horses,” Mr. Hudson said. “We’re not quite ready to run off to battle just yet.”
“We couldn’t even if we wanted to,” Matt said. “The compass needs repairs.”
“And we all need some rest,” Mrs. Hudson said.
The last drama of the day was the sleeping arrangements. Gaga usually slept in Ruby’s room when she visited, but with Jia and Albert, as well as the sudden and very unexpected return of Henry Hudson, it made things awkward, to say the least. After about ten minutes of volleying ideas back and forth it was settled that Gaga would sleep in the master bedroom, Mr. and Mrs. Hudson in the living room to “keep an eye on things” (in other words, make sure their children didn’t sneak away in the middle of the night, as they had been known to do). Henry and Uncle Chuck would sleep out in Blossom, under the guise that they would “keep eyes on the street” in case Vincent should approach.
Matt wanted to tell Jia that she could sleep in his room but then wondered if that would be weird, then wondered why he would wonder if it was weird. They’d slept in the same room plenty of times before, just as if they were brother and sister. But they weren’t brother and sister, and he had no wish to be. But what did that mean? And what if he just felt that way and she didn’t? While Matt was working through these thoughts, Ruby offered for Jia to sleep in her room, and before Matt could say so much as a good night she was gone. Matt watched her go with a weird mixture of longing and relief. He was starting to feel that relationships of any kind were far more complicated than even the most complex math. There was no formula. No proof. And sometimes they could throw you some serious curve balls, as both his parents and grandparents could attest.
“Albert, you can sleep in the boys’ room,” Mrs. Hudson said.
“What? No!” Corey protested. Albert didn’t look any more pleased by the idea.
“Where would you suggest he sleep?” Mrs. Hudson asked. “The bathtub?”
“That’s a good idea,” Corey said. “Maybe he’ll wake up smelling better.”
“I’m not sleeping with them,” Albert said. “They’ll probably murder me in my sleep!”
“Probably,” Corey said. “Why can’t he just sleep out in Blossom?”
Mrs. Hudson gave a long sigh and pressed her fingers to her temples. “If you two don’t stop it this instant I’m going to make you wear the ‘get-along shirt.’”
Corey made a horrified expression. “You wouldn’t!”
“Watch me.”
Matt sniggered until his mom said, “Don’t think I won’t shove you in there, too, Mateo,” and he stopped. The “get-along shirt” was legendary in their family. It was a huge T-shirt that Mrs. Hudson would make the kids wear together whenever they fought. It was usually Corey and Matt, or Corey and Ruby, but occasionally all three of them had to wear it, and then things got really squishy and horrible. Corey clearly had strong enough memories to shut his mouth.
“Albert will sleep in your room,” Mrs. Hudson said with a note of finality. “And, Corey, you can make his bed for him.”
Corey pressed his lips into a thin line and stomped away.
Their bedroom looked just the same as Matt remembered. Their bunk beds took up most of the room. Matt’s top bunk was made up neatly from the day they’d left for the vineyard. Corey’s bottom bunk was still a tangle of blankets and sheets. He never made his bed, no matter how much Mrs. Hudson nagged him. “What’s the point?” he always said. “I’m just going to sleep in it again.” The old Shea Stadium seats sat beneath the window, a few T-shirts and hoodies draped over the arms.
On his desk were some of Matt’s old school assignments, a Rubik’s cube, completed (he could do it in under a minute), and a few books and magazines. National Geographic and Science Today. Relics of his life before he’d boarded the Vermillion and made the Obsidian Compass. Everything was familiar and just as he’d left it, but just like the rest of the apartment, it all felt alien, something from another world.
Matt changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth. When he came back, Corey was violently placing sheets and blankets on a blow-up mattress while Albert stood in the corner.
Matt climbed up into his bunk bed and crawled beneath the cool blankets. He couldn’t remember ever being so exhausted and wired at the same time. His brain was still going in circles, remembering all that had happened since that morning at Gaga’s house. He ticked it all off in his mind. The compass reversal. The storm. The time chase. Facing Captain Vincent. Seeing the time tapestry pulled from his father.
