Bumper to Bumper

Celia clicked June into her carseat and tightened the straps.

“Off to school, Junie!” Celia leaned in and blew a raspberry on June’s soft, dewy cheek. It reminded her of a perfectly ripe, delicious peach. Celia inhaled deeply. Her daughter’s smell was a salve to the senses. If it could be bottled and sold, everyone in the world would drop their weapons and shake hands, Celia was sure.

The sun glinted off the gold lettering of the car’s tired-looking bumper sticker. Princess on Board. It was still accurate, even if it had resided on their Volvo for four years, seven months and 23 days - back to the day June came home from the hospital as a newborn. June was precious, and Celia was convinced people drove more cautiously when they saw that sticker. What kind of person would aggressively tailgate a car transporting a sweet, innocent angel?

“The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round…” Celia hummed tonelessly. She pulled up to a red light behind a nondescript beige four-door sedan. Surely they sold that car in a more exciting colour than beige. She imagined the people inside were beige too: beige skin, beige hair, beige clothes, beige shoes…

Then she noticed it. The thing that made that car stand out from the others, the thing that sent a jolt of adrenaline through her body, the thing that made her want to get home right away so she could get started.

Jesus Loves You.

A mere three words that revealed so much about that car’s occupants. They were religious, obviously. They went to church every week, and worshipped fervently. They supported the less fortunate, organized the annual fundraising bake sale, and volunteered at the local soup kitchen. They forgave those that trespassed against them, and endeavoured, every day, to not trespass against others. They weren’t beige at all.

So much conveyed, by one single bumper sticker. Celia rushed June through the school entrance and bid her a hasty goodbye. Her coffee shop stop would have to wait for another day. The floodgates had been opened; the ideas were pouring out like a dam that had burst its banks. She had to get home asap - strike while the iron is hot, as her mom used to say.

“Mommy!” June hurled herself onto Celia’s lap. “Look! I drew our family!” She thrust a sheet of paper, adorned with stick figures sporting extra digits, into Celia’s face.

Was it 6 o’clock already? Where had the time gone? Celia looked at the mess before her: laptop open, pencils askew, pieces of paper strewn across the table. She looked at Nate. He surveyed the scene and the absence of dinner. His face took on a wary expression.

“What is it this time, Celia?” he asked neutrally.

“Well,” she paused dramatically, calculating whether to give him the back story, or jump straight to the nugget.

“It’s bumper stickers!” she gushed. “You know, we have that Princess on Board sticker, which I know you want to get rid of because June’s ‘too old,’ - well, then I saw another one that said Jesus Loves You, and I thought, what about making customized bumper stickers?”

“I think those already exist,” Nate said carefully, picking June up.

“Have you ever seen Indulgent Grandma on Board? Fighting Children on Board? Birder on Board? Yo-Yo Dieter on Board?” Her left leg began bouncing.

“Well, no...”

“Exactly! People are all about expressing themselves these days, right? Look at social media! People are proud of their identities and want the world to know! This is one more way people can say who they are!”

Nate put June down, then sat in the chair across from Celia. “I’m not sure there’s a huge market for that.”

“Not a huge market, but I think people would find it fun, and funny, to, you know, have something like,” she grabbed a sheet of paper from across the table, “Drooling Dog on Board, or Crusty Cat on Board, or Defeated Husband on Board.” She winked at Nate and grinned.

Nate rubbed his face with his hands wearily. “So you’re giving up on the gourmet chocolate idea? What about all the equipment you bought?”

“I’m just putting that on hold for now,” Celia said. “I’ll get back to it.”

Nate sighed, bit his thumbnail and gazed out the window.

“Give me three months. If I haven’t gotten anywhere by then, I will stop. I’ll go back to making chocolate.” She paused. “This will bring people joy. People need that right now. More joy.” She looked at him solemnly.

“Mommy has chocolate?” June wandered over and began lifting papers off the table.

“Three months,” Nate said resignedly. He stood and loosened his tie, then began climbing the stairs in a trudging fashion.

Celia squeezed June. “Chocolate comes after dinner, right sweetie? How about chicken fingers?”

“Yay!” June squealed. “Chicken fingers, chicken fingers,” she sing-songed, dancing around the room.

It all came together easily, like it was meant to be, Celia said to Nate on more than one occasion. She’d briefly considered sending the prototype to China, but switched to a Canadian manufacturer when she’d run that idea by Nate. (He’d looked at her like she had two heads). So many decisions to make, but it was so exciting! Setting up the website and socials, figuring out sizes, shapes, colours, font choices, pricing, production, delivery…who knew starting a small business was so much work? Especially when working under a tight deadline, Celia reminded herself.

Nate had been wonderful, not complaining about the state of the house, or the frozen dinners they’d had on repeat lately.

“So,” Celia said one night, fork poised over no-name mac and cheese, “I got my first big order today!”

“Oh yeah? How many?” Nate asked.

“Twenty! An extended family wants 20 Vegan on Board stickers!”

“That’s great, Cel,” Nate said, spearing his broccoli.

“They probably spotted the sticker on the Volvo and looked up the website.”

“You put a sticker on the Volvo?”

Celia paused. “Well, yes. It is a great way to advertise the business.”

Nate paused. “Which one did you choose?”

“Um, Life of the Party on Board.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. Celia stabbed at some macaroni and shoved it in her mouth. “And Caffeine Addict on Board.” She took another bite. “And Bored Mom on Board.” She waited a beat. “Get it?”

“Three stickers?”

“Sure. To show the variety. You know, of sayings, and size, colour…”

“Well, I suppose those are accurate,” Nate offered.

“Exactly! People are getting to know me, just by driving behind me! Instead of just being some nameless thirty-something woman in a Volvo…”

“You’re a restless, extroverted coffee junkie,” Nate finished.

“I’m sure I made some people smile today,” Celia declared, taking a large gulp of wine. “It’s all about bringing joy.”

“Joy, boy, toy, poo poo head,” June sang. She giggled.

The next day, the orders jumped to 120. Celia could barely keep up. By mid-afternoon, she had to take a break. Blowing on her coffee, she imagined being interviewed by the local newspaper.

Were you surprised at how quickly the business took off?

Not really. People are searching for joy in their lives, and my stickers are fulfilling that need. They’re inexpensive, fun and customizable - the perfect gift!

She thought she’d come up with plenty of inventive expressions, and was surprised when people requested other sayings: Metalhead on Board, Lesbian on Board, Capitalist on Board, Tree Hugger on Board, Carnivore on Board, Cougar on Board…the list went on. Celia was happy to oblige; it was early days in the business, after all. She’d hesitated slightly with the request for Alcoholic on Board, but figured they had a sense of humour.

By the end of the following week, Celia was swamped. Orders had started to come in from other countries - could she produce them in different languages? How would she ship them? Did she have to pay duty on them? So many questions!

“Nate, oh my gosh, I can’t believe how big this has become! It’s only been two months, and I think I’m going to have to hire some extra help!”

Nate stared at her.

“I told you this would be a huge success!” she trumpeted, pacing the room. “You’ve seen a lot of the stickers on people’s cars, haven’t you? Just today, after dropping June off, I saw Neat Freak on Board, and Toker on Board. What’s a toker?”

Nate’s mouth dropped open. “You made a sticker that says Toker on Board and you don’t know what it means?”

“What is it, a person who likes board games or something? You know, tokens?”

Nate sighed. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “A toker is a pot smoker. Look, I’m glad the business is going so well. I haven’t seen you this fired up in a long time. Can I just give you one small piece of advice?”

“Sure.”

“Next time you’re not sure what a word means, look it up before you make the sticker.”

“Yeah, I guess. Oh well, it’s not like he’s going to get arrested or anything, now that pot’s legal.”

“Yeah, the cops will never pull that guy over,” Nate said.

Celia slept in the next morning, which meant bad traffic on the way to June’s school. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as they sat behind a red light.

“Mommy, what is that man doing?” June asked, pointing at the car ahead of them.

“He’s…oh…um….just saying hi to the person beside him.”

“He says hi with only one finger?” June asked, puzzled.

“Well…,” Celia stalled.

“The other man is saying hi back,” June observed.

Celia hadn’t spotted any road rage, nothing that would provoke the single digit wave. The light changed and the cars began moving. And there they were - her stickers, clearly and proudly announcing the individuality and uniqueness of those cars’ occupants: Animal Lover on Board and Hunter on Board.

“Oh no,” Celia whispered. What were the odds that these two would end up beside each other, at this specific red light, at the exact same time? A sheen of sweat broke out on Celia’s forehead.

Traffic was no better getting into June’s school.

“Come on, come on,” Celia muttered impatiently, thinking of the backlogged orders she had to fill. She pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Looks like we’ll have to walk from here, Junie,” she said, unbuckling her daughter.

Ahead, an Audi was blocking the parking lot exit. A young woman with long blonde hair and tight yoga pants was standing beside it, driver’s side door open, engine idling, as if she’d forgotten to include her child’s lunch and had dashed in to drop it off. But she wasn’t moving quickly; she wasn’t rushing to unblock the bottlenecked exit. She was standing, hands on hips, yelling something at another young dark-haired woman, who was standing beside her own car, driver’s side door open, engine idling.

“What’s going on here, eh, Junie?” Celia asked, grasping June’s hand tightly and trying to steer her away from the situation. A crowd was forming. It reminded Celia of the reality show she’d watched the night before, Real Housewives of Somewhere or Other. The women on the show looked and acted quite a bit like these two.

“So you think you can just leave your car there while you run inside? Like you’re special or something?” the dark-haired one pointed at the blonde lady.

“I was like, two seconds, bitch,” huffed the blonde, tossing her hair. “Take a chill pill.”

The crowd inhaled. Such attitude! Such language!

“Cover your ears, Junie,” Celia instructed.

“Are you psycho? Do you not see this is a school? There are kids here!” yelled the dark-haired woman. “You are so selfish!”

She paused for a second, then pointed to the blonde woman’s car. “Oh my god, that bumper sticker explains it all. Narcissist on Board. So true!”

The crowd gasped. Celia’s stomach plunged. No, not another one.

“Why don’t you go home, and order the sticker Thrifter on Board? I think that would suit you, judging by your car and your clothes,” the blonde snapped. She whirled around, got back into her car, revved the engine, and sped off.

“BITCH!” the dark-haired woman screeched. She got in her car and blasted out of the parking lot, spitting gravel in her wake.

The crowd murmured and tutted, then resumed its movement. The children had to get to school after all, and the parents had to get to work.

June looked up at Celia.

“Mommy’s stickers?” she asked.