Sometimes I wonder about superstitions. I've never been particularly into them, although Mom is incredibly superstitious. I remember she'd once cried when Dad walked under a ladder. When he died it took months of therapy for her to stop believing that it was her fault for not telling him to stop.

It's weird, you know? The belief that certain things will bring harm into you, like spilling salt, and that the simple act of throwing salt over your shoulder can save you. The fact that certain people are doomed to be unlucky forever haunts me, too.

It didn't used to. I'd barely given it a thought before the fourth of October. That was the day I stopped seeing Hazel as a complete mystery.

I'd walked home the night before that day in a horrific daze. I couldn't think, because if I thought, I'd realize I'd just lost my best friend of sixteen years. I'd never be able to reach my house if that happened. So instead, I focused on the night sky, at the many stars in the sky, and wondered how many more would be visible without the lights of the streets around me. For a second, I wished for everything to go black, and stay that way, so that I'd be able to see the stars and only the stars.

Luke's car wasn't in the driveway when I got home. I took out my key and tried to insert it in the lock, but for some reason it wouldn't go in. I looked down and realized my hand was shaking too hard for me to get anywhere with it. I grabbed my hand with my left one and tried to keep it steady, but it wouldn't. I slammed the key against the door and collapsed onto the concrete.

I don't know how long I was there for, but he next thing I remember is Mom coming outside to find me crying on the ground.

She didn't say a word. She didn't even take the time to close the door behind her. She just went to my side, rested my head in her lap, and stroked my head while I sobbed.

We stayed that way for a long time.

"I'm sorry," I whispered finally, after a long silence.

Mom looked down at me in surprise. "For what?" She asked. Her voice was soft, and filled with nothing but love. I didn't deserve that.

"For being an awful person. You and Dad deserved a better son."

Mom said nothing, only bent down and pressed a kiss to my head. "You and Polli are all I need in the world," she whispered. "No one is perfect. But honestly? You're pretty close." I looked up at her, and she pulled me close. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," I got out between my sobs.

After a few minutes, we pulled away from each other. "You want some hot cocoa?" She asked.

I let out a small laugh. "We haven't done that since Dad was with us."

She nodded and smiled faintly. "I think it's time we bring it back," she said softly.

Every Sunday morning Mom, Dad, Polli and I would sit in the back of our house and drink hot cocoa, then go over our week. Dad had always had some funny story about the guys at work, which Mom would always try to top. Sometimes she won—kindergarten teachers did have some pretty hilarious tales.  Other times there was no point in even trying to compete.

Those were the best moments of my life. When Dad was around, everything seemed bright. Mom was happy, which didn't seem that crazy a thought then, but now when I saw her all I saw were tired eyes and and a sad soul.

I nodded slightly. "Okay," I said quietly.

Mom smiled at me and pressed a kiss to my head once more before she turned and went back inside. A few minutes later she returned, and Mom, Dad, and I finally had another hot chocolate Sunday, although it wasn't Sunday and Dad didn't say anything. He didn't say anything, but I could feel him there. I don't normally go for that kind of crap, but I needed to believe it then.

"It's Thursday night," I observed. "Luke always comes on Thursday nights."

Mom nodded and was silent for a few seconds. Then, "Luke's not going to be around anymore. We broke up."

I stared at her. "Wait... really? But—you said that you liked him."

"I did," she said quickly, then shook her head. "But I knew you were having trouble with me dating, and he wasn't the right guy."

I set down the hot chocolate and rested my head on her shoulder. "Mom, I don't have a problem with you dating. It's healthy that you move on. I just had a problem with Luke. That guy didn't deserve you. At all."

She nodded and didn't say anything.

"So what made you break up with him?"

She started laughing, and I looked up at her. It was a quiet laugh, as if she'd remembered something funny. "Actually," she said softly, "he proposed."

"What?" Automatically I grabbed her hand to make sure there was no ring, even though she'd said that they'd broken up. Thankfully, there was none.

"Yeah. He came over, got down on one knee, and asked me to marry him." She nodded slowly, as if telling this to herself as well as to me. "I'd never even thought about remarrying. And the thing is, I thought I might have loved Luke. He was the first man I dated after your father died." She looked at me, and I rested my head back on her shoulder. "But when he asked me that question, I could only think of you and Polli, and how hard it would be for you two to come to grasps with it."

"Mom, you shouldn't base your decisions on us—"

"I also thought about myself," she said reassuringly. "About what life would be like with Luke constantly around. And I couldn't deal with it. So I said no."

We were both quiet for a moment, then I whispered, "I'm sorry, Mom."

"Don't ever be sorry for something like this," she said softly, stroking my hair like she used to when I was younger and scraped my knee. "It's not your fault."

I nodded. "So, how did he take it?"

"Surprisingly well," she said matter-of-factly. "He didn't break anything. He did throw the ring at me, though." She reached into her pocket and placed the ring in my hand. I looked down at it.

"It's plastic," I determined.

She laughed, and I laughed too, at the fact that Luke had given Mom his ring that he'd bought and because we were finally free of Luke. Now it was just us. Just us.

"I know it's been a hard couple of years," Mom said slowly. "I just want you to know, I'm here for you."

And that's when I told her everything. About Hazel, about my worst English grade (which she laughed at), about Jane... it was hard at first, like I'd expected it to be, but by the end of it I was glad to have all of it off my chest.

Mom pulled me into a hug, and we talked for almost an hour. She said how hard it must have been for Jane to be keeping that secret, and I agreed. I had to apologize to her.

"Can you go inside?" I asked after a few minutes of hugs and somehow comfortable silence. "I think I want to be alone."

She hesitated, then nodded and stood up. "I love you, remember that," she said. I nodded and watched her go inside, then looked down at the ground. It was just me and my thoughts.

Wow, did my thoughts suck.

Something sounded not too far from me, and I looked over to see Hazel opening her window. I don't think she noticed me at first, but as she began to climb out her gaze fell towards me.

"Hey, stalker," she started to say. Then she noticed my tears, which I hastily wiped away. She stood staring at me, halfway out the window before she climbed down and came my way. I set the mug of hot cocoa down beside me as she sat down, and then the silence returned, now with new company.

"So..."

"You don't have to sit with me—"

"I know."

I fell quiet.

After almost a minute, Hazel asked, "is this about Jane? Did something happen?"

I shook my head and wiped at my face again, though there were no tears. "No. It's more like... everything. You know? First my dad, then Luke, now Jane."

She nodded, as if she understood. "It sucks," she observed.

"Yeah."

Quiet. Then, "come on."

"Come on what?" I asked as she stood up and dusted herself off.

"We're going up to the roof."