Once we reach the arena, we pick seats up above the penalty boxes.
My leg is shaking softly, as my eyes scan the empty ice. Waiting for the players to make their appearance. Eric places a calming hand on my leg, in an attempt to soothe the ache in my chest.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to clog the emotions threatening to spill out. I watch as small, tiny, people skate on the ice. Most of them can barely skate, others look sloppy, as most five-year old children should be, just now learning the rules and the basics. But not her.
At five years of age, she's already taller than the children around her. She glides with the elegance of someone who has been skating for years. Confidence pours from her posture, no doubt a lesson taught to her by her father.
I watch with glassy eyes as she warms up. I'm in awe of the little life. My stomach churns, and my heart screams in pain. She skates to the left of us, coming closer, her face covered in her mask.
In almost slow motion she removes her helmet, her red hair already messy in its braid. Our hair is identical. A sound of pure torment rips through me gently, and I cover my mouth with my fingertips, tears spilling from my eyes with no mercy.
She's so…perfect. Her button nose, splattered freckles, and a smile with so much happiness I can feel it all the way up here. I watch as she taps her chest twice before pressing her hand to the glass. Only now realizing her father is the one she is doing this with.
"She's beautiful." I croak with a voice that shreds my throat. I try to swallow the lump in my throat but it stays there through the whole game.
I admire her from afar, trying to imagine a world where things were different. A place when I was stronger than my addiction, stronger than my demons, better for her.
Her team wins, and I can't help but feel guilty for being proud of her. I have no right to be proud, I left her, abandoned her before she even got the chance to know me, before I got the chance to know her.
I wanted to know if she liked Froot Loops or Cap’n Crunch. If when she laughed her nose scrunched like her fathers, if she shared the same magic I had as a child all those years ago. I wanted to know her.
Numbly I make my way down the arena steps, towards J. It feels like centuries since I’ve seen him, but just as before, the only thing I feel for J, is gratitude. He never made my heart race, or my toes curl, not like Eric. J was kind, and we happened to make a baby one night.
Eric was my happy ending if I was ever going to have one.
J turns, looks around, and then sees me in front of him. His mouth falls open, shock registers quickly, before anger and resentment settle in.
Eric takes a protective step forward in an effort to shield me, but this, this sadly isn't his battle. He can't protect me from this. I walk towards J slowly, until I'm standing directly in front of him. He's still just as tall as I remember.
"What are you doing here, Anna." It's not a question, it's a demand. He hates me, I can feel it radiating off him. Loathes me. Fuck, I'd hate me too.
I fiddle with my hands nervously before stumbling towards my words. "I want-t another chance, I'm two years sober, I'm re─"
"Don't you fucking dare finish that sentence." He pauses looking me up and down with a stone hard gaze. Those gentle eyes I fell into were gone. Distrust drowned his gaze. My throat burns as he starts to talk.
"You don't get to come back here, unannounced, whenever you feel like it. Where the fuck were you when I had to stay up all night long consoling a two-year-old who wouldn't go to damn sleep until Mommy got home? Huh? Where in the hell were you when I had to explain why you left, why you wouldn't ever be coming back? Where the fuck were you when she started having the nightmares? When she needed her hair fixed? Anything! You can't just decide to be a part of her life whenever you feel like it, Anna!"
He seethes with those words. They burn my flesh and brand me with the term, 'Dead-Beat Mom.' Tears sear my eyes. My throat is ablaze with apologies that he won't hear. My body is shaking with regret, he's right. I wasn't there when she needed me, and now she thinks I left because of her.
Eric wraps an arm around my waist, and I whimper softly.
"Listen, bud. That's uncalled for. All she wants is a chance. She is her mother." Eric's soothing voice floats through the air and I wince, knowing what is about to follow. I'd watched J play hockey, and he wasn't exactly a player you wanted to fight. J takes a menacing step towards Eric, and I reach my hand forward palm out to put some space between them.
"Unless you have anything to do with the care or happiness of that little girl, I suggest you fuck off, bud. She carried her for nine months and left two years later. That doesn't make her a mother. She left our child, and I was there to collect her broken pieces. Not her, sure as fuck wasn't you, it was me." J is rightfully angry. He's protective, he loves her. If it were me and the roles were reversed, I'd react the same way.
J returns his eyes to me, and they soften for a moment when he sees the tears falling quickly down my face.
I hear girls laughing, and we all look over to see our angel talking to her teammates. I smile, painfully, but still smile. She hasn't noticed us yet, and so for another moment I get to unapologetically admire her.
A bomb explodes in my body, shaking me to my core as I see her fifteen years from now. She'll have grown into her height, into her body. She'll be stunning. I can see her at prom, at graduation, the moment an unworthy boy breaks her heart. I can see it all, and at the moment I know.
This is all I'll ever get.
"That little girl…" he points towards the ice where my angel is laughing loudly, "is my entire fucking world. No, fuck that, she's my universe, Anna. She is my sun, the moon, the stars, all that shit. Her happiness is the only thing I care about and if you genuinely believe she will benefit from having you in her life, go right the fuck ahead." J looks over at her, and my heart beats a little slower.
What I have learned about life is letting go doesn't mean loving any less.
In this story, I am the villain from the very start in one character's heart. I am the one you all curse, scream, and shout at for doing the wrong thing, for hurting the ones I'm supposed to love. I am not a good person.
In another character's heart, I am a second chance. The love they desperately needed to heal. The house they call home. A soft place to land and everything I hoped I could be to others. I'm a good person.
The truth? I'm both. I'm both the warm, comforting hand someone needs, and the evil witch that haunts someone's past.
There is Chinese folklore that some people still follow, about a magical connection between two people. It's called the "red string of fate." Two people are said to be connected by one single string. From the time they both enter the world to the moment they leave. Two people are destined to be lovers, regardless of time, distance, space, or circumstance.
Others believe that at the beginning of the universe we were all stars, nothing but particles and gas. After a time, we evolved and became human. This theory details how we as humans are created from the same particles as the stars we once were. Meaning pieces of us and pieces of another human come from the same star. They believe it is why when we meet particular people, it feels almost magnetic, irresistible, out of this world. They call them our "Stardusts."