From the other side

Kamala stirred slowly, the haze of the medication still lingering behind her eyes. Her body ached in the dull, heavy way that followed a night of real pain—less sharp now, but still echoing in her back and shoulders. She blinked up at the ceiling of Lizzy’s childhood room, the familiar glow-in-the-dark stars still faintly visible in the daylight. The soft stuffed animal Lizzy had loved for years was cradled loosely in her arm.

And then it hit her.

“Shit,” she whispered, sitting up too fast and immediately regretting it as the room tilted. Her heart sank. “Lizzy…”

She rubbed her eyes, panic and guilt rising together in her chest.

She had missed it.

The first day of law school.

She was supposed to make Lizzy’s favorite dinner. Roast vegetables, Kamala-style mac and cheese—extra sharp cheddar the way Lizzy liked—and that ridiculous, time-consuming coconut cake she had only ever made for the biggest milestones.

But instead of celebrating her daughter’s first day of chasing her dream, Kamala had spent the night curled in pain, drugged up and clinging to a stuffed bear like a ghost of her former self. Lizzy had been there, of course. Because Lizzy was always there.

But now—now she was probably gone. Back to her apartment. Back to reality.

Kamala reached for her phone with shaky fingers. Her chest felt tight. What kind of mother misses this? she thought bitterly.

No new messages from Lizzy.

She stared at the screen, chewing on her bottom lip. Lizzy had probably tiptoed out quietly, not wanting to wake her, not wanting to make her feel worse. Maybe she had even taken the train back downtown, alone. On the day she should have been welcomed home with flowers and cake and celebration.

Kamala swiped to her text app and hovered over Lizzy’s name.

“Did you get back okay?” she typed.

But she didn’t hit send.

Instead, she let the phone drop into her lap and leaned her head back against the wall, eyes glassy with exhaustion and guilt.

This was supposed to be her job—to lift her daughter up, to be the one fussing over first-day nerves and asking how her classes went. But once again, Lizzy had been the caretaker. The steady one. The woman she raised to be stronger than the world had been to either of them. After quickly getting dressed and grabbing car keys she was already on her way.

Kamala closed her eyes, heart aching in a different way now. Not just from the tension in her muscles—but from missing a moment she could never quite get back.

Kamala tapped her phone’s speaker button, holding it in her lap as she drove through the soft mid-afternoon light. The roads were familiar—too familiar. She’d driven this exact route so many times over the years: first to pick Lizzy up from school, then from sleepovers, then from heartbreaks she didn’t want to talk about. And now…

The phone rang once.

Twice.

“Hey, Mama,” Lizzy’s voice finally answered, a little surprised, a little warm. “Are you okay?”

Kamala sighed through a tight throat, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Are you at your apartment?”

There was a pause.

“Yeah,” Lizzy said slowly, cautious now. “I just got back a little while ago. Why?”

“I’m on my way.”