She looked at the shopping cart as I placed the twelve pack of toilet paper in. "What's that? That's horrible. Here, let me buy you the good stuff," she said with a wink.
She said good stuff as if it was some kind of kinky new drug that everyone wanted, but nobody could afford.
"But I like this kind. And it's on sale for four dollars. You can't beat that," I replied, hoping she'd drop the subject. And while I only have five dollars in my bank account, I still wanted the buy the kind I wanted, not what she told me to buy.
"Nah," she said, as she took it out of the cart and put it back on the pyramid of store brand toilet paper.
We pushed the cart with the squeaky wheel down the paper aisle of the drug store, where one could grab some paper plates, paper towels, paper napkins, and toilet paper, but no actual paper. I wondered why the sandpaper wasn't in this aisle. Or maybe some fly paper? Her clearing her throat brought me out of my asinine thoughts of all things paper.
"Here," she said, pleased, as she held up some triple-ply-wood-chip-toilet-paper in my face.
"That's six dollars and seventy-nine cents. Why would I get that when I can get the other one for four dollars?" I eyed the packaged skeptically, hating to deviate from my usual brand. This was so typical of her, acting as if she's doing something nice for me when in reality she's simultaneously showing off how poor I was and how much she hates me by buying me something sub-par that was much more expensive than I could afford myself. It was a tale as old as time.
"It has three times as much on each roll. Do you know what that means?" She looked at me and waited for a response.
I did not, because I did not care to even imagine what it meant. It was only shitty toilet paper, no pun intended.
She sighed. "That means, you get three of your rolls on one of these rolls. This is what I use at home." She plunked it into her cart.
Lies, I thought to myself. I knew the kind she used, and it wasn't that brand. "Oh, cool. That's nice. I prefer the other brand though."
"Nonsense." And that was that. She marched up to the counter and paid for the bags of candy she had (which she pretended were for the kids but in reality were hoarded in her dresser drawer). Next came the scratchy toilet paper. I watched as the cashier rang it up, wishing it was the store brand I adored, but alas, was not. As it fell into the grocery bag, I literally sighed out loud, as my hopes and dreams for a non-hurting undercarriage when I wiped were slowly drifting away. I couldn't afford to buy more until payday, which was over a week away, so I was stuck with that. But today was no different than usual. She would see my family hurting for something, and she will swoop in and take over, only to make things worse. For years, I used to think she was the queen of poor choices, but now I knew it for what it was: intentional chaos for her own pleasure.
"Nineteen forty-eight," the cashier remarked as her dangle bracelets jingled while she twisted the end of her ponytail around her fingers.
"Here," she handed me her debit card. "You do it. I'll be out in the car. Give your keys to your son so he can load the car." She couldn't remember her debit pin anymore, so I was always the dedicated payer, even if it wasn't with my own money.
I forked over my keys to my son like the robot I was, paid for her candy and my wretched TP with her card, and fidgeted where I stood as I waited for the receipt.
The cashier flashed me a smile as she handed it to me. "Your mom is nice. She sure buys a lot of candy for your kids."
I smiled back. If she only knew. "She sure does. Thanks."
I frowned as I took the receipt, knowing it was all over, she won. Mother had done it again and all I was left with was this piece of paper that was probably softer than that TP. But then I looked down at my hand realized what I was holding: the key to returning that horrible ass wiping paper after I took her home. A smile spread across my face. I can buy two packages for only a tiny bit more money, I thought to myself, as the automatic doors opened in front of me and I hopped up and down. In that moment, I had one less worry to think about that week. One less thing to stress about (my undercarriage was saved!). And I would let my mother think we loved the ever-loving crap out of that toilet paper, which meant her attempt at controlling me didn't work, which gave me a better reason to smile.
The irritating weekly drug store run turned out to be quite a blessing in disguise. I walked out to my car, hopped in the driver's seat, and drove us all home, knowing that for once, I won. It was small, triple-ply win, but a win nonetheless. And that was all I needed to get me through the rest of my day.
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