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Contingency Daughter

Contingency Daughter

– Fiction by Taylor Hobbs –

Featured in issue 16 of Dreamers Magazine and winner the 2024 Pen Parentis Fellowship!

Homemade Insanity

My sister lays with her head in my mother’s lap on the bathroom floor. Her mouth is wide open while my mother works the floss between each tooth, diligently, lovingly, but sometimes the gums can’t help but bleed.

I step over them to snag a hairbrush off the counter, and my sister’s eyes track me. Her silent question asks, “Where?”

“I’m going out. Birthday celebration at Beth’s.” A kegger in the woods, to be specific. Nothing like the Elmo birthday my sister insists upon as she gets older but does not age.

My mother ages faster than she gets older, tired hands working the same nightly ritual for the last twenty years. Clip fingernails, take to the toilet, turn on the nightlight, tuck into bed. Tick-tick-ticking toward my countdown. Sing a lullaby, kiss goodnight. Surrender to dreams.

I pull my hair into a tight ponytail and give my reflection a once-over.

My mother interrupts my critical inspection. “What time will you be back?” Throwing the floss away, she reaches for the toothbrush next.

“By curfew.” And not a minute sooner. Reaching down, I thrust my hand out and wait for my sister to fist bump me.

She grins. Hell yeah! Her knuckles crash into mine. Tomorrow I’ll return with tales of misspent youth that need to stretch large enough to encompass both of us.

An impatient horn outside sends me running from the room, down the stairs, and into the star-filled night. The other girls whoop as I throw myself into the backseat of Leah’s car and we escape our non-existent pursuers, careening around curves until crunching gravel slows the tires before we can drive into the bonfire.

A handsome distraction thrusts a red cup under my nose as I open the door and swing my feet toward the ground. White sneakers land in the dirt but I am floating. He takes my hand and leads me toward the flames, my steps already matching the rhythm of the music blasting through the speaker.

I dance with my Dionysus, spinning until I no longer know which way is up. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squeezing my hand and giving me a wicked smile. But he will return to this spot to find me gone, because I can’t resist the dark, quiet forest anymore.

Slipping into the shadows, I start running until the music and laughter fade. Glass shatters in the distance, and I duck, even though dinner and my sister’s meltdown were hours ago. I fall into the beat of my breath and pounding heart while papery leaves swirl in a colorful wake. Churning them up does not make them disappear, just like how crumpling the black and white forms I found in my mother’s room will not change my fate.

Secondary guardian. To be signed on my eighteenth birthday.

I’m far enough away from the party now that I can’t hear anyone else, and for a little while I can pretend to be lost. Leaning back against a tree, I slide to the ground and crane my neck upward for a glimpse of the stars. Fingers find their way to my mouth, and I chew my nails bloody.

Taylor Hobbs

About the Author – Taylor Hobbs

Taylor Hobbs started writing ten years ago out of necessity. With a husband in the Marine Corps, adventure took her everywhere from military bases in California to a liveaboard sailboat named STORY TIME in North Carolina before ultimately heading back to the PNW. She got used to traveling light, but she could take this piece of her identity anywhere. Along the way, she created two kids (now three and five) and seven book babies. Two of her novels—Cloaked (2018) and Sonder Village (2019)—were published by The Wild Rose Press.

A firm believer in the idea that writers need other writers, she encourages you to reach out via her website taylorhobbsauthor.com.

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