Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty-year writer and the author of 11 published books of fiction and poetry and 3 stage plays. She has been nominated 19 times for the Pushcart Prize in both fiction and poetry. Her play ‘The Crooked Heart’ concerning artist Jackson Pollock premiered on October 25, 2022 at the Irish Repertory Theatre in NYC. Adapted from an earlier novel, it was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. Another play, LADY IN A POST BOX, co-written with poet and writer Ciaran O’Driscoll is moving toward production in Ireland. Her third play, 28 MARVIN AVENUE is making the rounds. Tepper’s Novel satire titled ‘Office’ has been released by Wilderness House Press. A new Novel ‘Hair of a Fallen Angel’ will be out in the winter. Susan is a Brand Ambassador for The Galway Review. http://www.susantepper.com
Each Next Destination
By Susan Isla Tepper
Triple AAA had mapped out our route in nice numbered notebooks with black ink roads drawn on thick paper. Mom was pleased. The pages flipped over, then again, again, for each next destination. Starred were places to eat and where to sleep for the night. Mom was the driver and my younger brother Buddy sat upfront in the co-pilot seat. That’s what she called it to make the journey fun. Long Island to Spokane was a long trip. At least a week, if you stuck to the route and you didn’t get lost.
I sat scrunched in a corner of the back seat because the rest of the seat had a rubber baby mattress for my little sister, Bibi, to crawl around. She was only one and a half. I had to sing the itsy bitsy spider for her about a hundred times each day, running my fingers spider-like over her chubby little self, to make her laugh when she got antsy.
We each had our specific assignments. That’s what Mom called them. She also said she was Captain of our craft: meaning the big old Buick.
Day four, Wisconsin, I saw little towns that looked much older than The Village— what they called the town section of where we lived on Long Island. Our new split-level house stood at the edge of the woods some 5 miles from The Village. Dad had clocked it. During summers, I walked there with my friends Elaine and Carol and Marie. They were maybe a little jealous that I got this whole month off from school for special circumstances. Dad paid extra for the house on account of them putting in a stone fireplace he wanted.
The Wisconsin towns had little stores built out of wood. Mom parked the car in front of a little coffee shoppe starred in the Triple AAA book. That was the name: Little Coffee Shoppe. Buddy didn’t want to go in because he hated coffee and besides he wanted a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. Mom promised they would definitely have grilled cheese. She scooped out baby sister and we followed her inside.
A girl in a white apron took us to a booth half-way back, saying she’d bring a high-chair. For noon, the place was still pretty empty. Just a few people on stools at the soda fountain. I would have liked to sit on one of those stools and swivel a while.
The high-chair was put at the end of our booth then Mom slid Bibi in. We ordered our lunch. Buddy grinned wide when the girl told him the grilled cheese came with round pickles.
Mom and I ordered hamburgers. Bibi had some baby food out of a jar that Mom had packed. Dozens and dozens and dozens of little jars. Plus a big box of Pablum baby cereal for her breakfast. Buddy and I liked Pablum, too; with just enough milk to turn it into cement. Mom made things clear: We were to have no Pablum on the trip. If she ran short, she’d have to go looking for a grocery store and it would use up valuable travel time. We both nodded and Mom said good. Then she said, Time is precious for us, we need to get to your Dad on schedule, that he was anxious to see us. We were anxious to see him, too. He’d been gone on this new job for almost a year.
When we get to his town, she said, we’ll stop at a gas station bathroom first and change into nice clothes.
The girl brought our lunches, and she set down a little pudding cup for Bibi, who was slopping around with her fingers in the baby food, on the half-moon table that dropped down over the high-chair. Mom told the girl how very nice of her to bring the pudding. She smiled showing her silver braces.
More people started coming in. Buddy said they should change the name to Little Lunch Shoppe. Because I didn’t get any pickles I offered him a trade: a small bite of my hamburger in exchange for one pickle slice.
In a little while the girl came to clear away the plates. Bibi had made a real mess out of that high-chair table, but the girl said all babies do that. She came back with a wet rag and cleaned it up. Mom thanked her. The girl wanted to know if we planned on having dessert.
Buddy asked if they had ice-cream.
The girl bobbed her head up and down, saying chocolate or wanilla.
I looked across at Buddy. Both of us about to crack up laughing. Mom told the girl, Please give us a minute to decide.
The second she was gone it burst out of us. Even Mom was laughing.
Wanilla we all kept saying, wanilla, falling over the table laughing hysterically. So hard the tears streamed onto our cheeks.
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