FINLEY

Is this what hitting rock bottom looks like?

Pushing the squeaking cart forward, I incline my head at the display in front of me. There are several options, but of the most expensive brand, it seems I could get the two-in-one or two smaller packs.

For a second, I mentally calculate which is the best option to save money for no other reason than not liking the idea of being taken for a fool by pad corporations.

Someone clears their throat behind me just as I'm about to finish my mental calculation, so I ignore them and finish quickly then reach for the two-in-one. Guess the pad corporations are being lazier than they should.

They could have deceived many by the prospect of more pads for a slightly higher price than buying two packs, but no, they're actually being honest.

Shaking my head at their business decision, I push the loud cart further down the aisle. It takes me two more minutes of comparing tampon prices and quality before deciding on the perfect pack.

I leave the aisle with a victorious smile on my lips, feeling good at having gotten the optimal product for comfort, quality, and price.

And with a quick Google search, I pat myself on the back because the products in my cart are the ones ranked the best by consumers.

Yes, this is definitely what hitting rock bottom looks like.

With a sigh, I wipe the smile off my face and push the cart a bit faster as I walk to the other side of the store.

It's not the fact that I'm buying feminine products that indicate I've hit rock bottom. Sure, I had never even touched a pack of pads before six minutes ago, but that's not the worst part.

The problem is a more internal one.

It's the odd glee I feel at having gotten the best products money can buy for Jaya, the satisfaction that I feel at the expectation of her being proud of my choices, and the desire to make sure I win against Prince Charming.

"Fucking Prince Charming," I grumble annoyingly, ironically this happens just as I pass by the children's toy section where princesses and princes line the wall.

Against my will, I turn my cart in the direction of the toys as my eyes scan for Charming. I find the little smug dude fairly quickly, his self-satisfied smirk grating my nerves.

"Your suit is ugly as shit, man," I tell him with my own smirk. "And the shoes need some polishing, your highness."

Once again, this is rock bottom.

"Not sure what Jaya sees in you," I mutter humorlessly, grabbing the box in which Charming stands, looking at him with a keen eye.

"Your hair isn't too bad, I guess," I admit, looking over the perfectly coiffed dark strands. "But I'm certain you can't please a woman. You wouldn't know how to handle Jaya the way she likes, buddy."

That fact puts a smirk on my lips once again. "Charming men like you can only think about your own pleasure. But don't worry, I'll take care of her."

My smirk turns into a smile, and I reach to drop the doll back on the shelf when I feel something tapping my leg. Turning to my left and looking down, I'm greeted by a small girl with the most hair accessories I've ever seen.

"You're a grown man," the girl speaks with a look of both fearful intrigue and internal mirth at catching a grown man in the toy section.

Dropping Charming on the shelf, I look around for the girl's parents, but the aisle is empty except for the two of us.

"And Prince Charming?" She makes a face of disgust and crosses her little arms. "Mister, are you disturbed?" Her hair clip and beads clang as she inclines her head to take me in.

"Should you be talking to a potentially disturbed individual?" I ask her, curious to hear her answer.

Snorting, she waves me off. "I ain't scared of you. You were talking to a Prince Charming doll as if he was real. You're only a threat to yourself, mister."

Holding back a laugh at the easy way she just confirmed my rock bottom residence, I narrow my eyes at her. She looks to be about nine or ten, the braids in her head shiny and decorated with hundreds of butterfly clips and colorful beads.

She's wearing clothes that were clearly picked out by an adult given how matching they are, and I can imagine her agreeing to be dressed by her parents if she got to load her hair as much as she could.

"Where are your parents?" I ask her, turning my cart around to face her.

She eyes the contents of the squealing thing with interest before looking back up at me with raised brows, proceeding to ignore my question.

"Is the Jaya you talked about to Prince Charming your girlfriend?"

With a grimace, I realize that the girl must have heard quite a lot of what I told Charming.

"Parents?" I ask her once again, completely disregarding her question before it starts taking root in my brain.

Walking to the other side of the aisle, she scans the bottom shelves before finding what she's looking for with a triumphant jump.

Turning back to me, she extends the box with a shit-eating grin. "If you want your girl to forget about the dull Prince Charming, give her this."

I accept the box of the doll without protest, narrowing my eyes at her before looking down at it.

"We could call him Prince Charmless! He's the exact opposite of the boring Prince Charming with his ugly yellow suit. Charmless is fancy without being so tacky."

Looking down at the doll, I can't help but agree with the girl. The doll within is dressed in black pants and a long sleeve white button-up shirt with the top buttons left open.

His smirk is more confident than pompous like Charming's and his hair is a little less coiffed while still being styled.

"He's basically you without glasses!" the girl notices as we both watch the doll.

Analyzing the little guy, I take in the strands that are a darker blonde than my own but are cut into a similar look that is shorter on the sides and longer at the top.

I wouldn't necessarily wear the same clothes as Charmless here, but the look is certainly more appealing than whatever the hell Charming has been stuffed in.

"The box is unnamed," I state in confusion, looking at the back of the box. "It only says Male Doll."

"Weird, right?" the girl whose name I still don't know giggles softly. "I bought this same doll and was so confused."

"You bought this?" I raise the doll to her in question.

"Yes." She nods, making her hair beads and butterflies clang loudly.

"I was looking for the perfect guy for my favorite doll. I hated all the popular options so I spent a lot of time finding Charmless. Well, the name for mine is Caleb, but yeah."

Remembering I don't know her name, I ask her, "What's your name?"

With a salute, she tells me, "Kianna Charlie Johnson at your service."

"Nice to meet you, Kianna. I'm Finley." Holding up the toy once again, I smile. "Thank you for this." Then I drop it into the cart. "Now, let's find your parents."

Huffing indignantly she turns around before yelling loudly, "Mama! Mama! I'm in the toy section!"

A second later a woman's voice responds with, "Alright, baby!"

Turning back around to me, she smirks devilishly. "My mom's the manager here."

Shaking my head at her, I start pushing my cart out of the aisle. The squeak of her shoes is loud as she follows behind me. "Do you wander around the store all day?"

"Only after school."

"Makes sense." I nod and ask, "So you approach guys that are in the toy aisle often?" We almost walk past the snack section, but I pause before entering.

Women on their periods like snacks, right? I'm pretty sure Jacob was going on about it last year when he just started dating his girl.

"You should get Jaya that!" Kianna exclaims, pointing to the row of chocolates to our right.

Looking down at her, I nod and she eagerly gets two large packs inside the cart.

"One for me for being so helpful," she explains with a cheeky smile and I nod in agreement.

"How did you know I was looking for some snacks for Jaya?"

The girl dares to laugh and shake her head at my question. "You got the look when we entered the aisle. My dad gets it all the time."

"The look?"

"Yes. The look." Without my approval, she grabs a large bag of Cheetos and throws them in the cart.

"What's the look?" Apparently, being at rock bottom includes entertaining nine-year-old girls in a grocery store.

"Not sure how to describe it. It's like . . . like you guys are nervous and happy at the same time."

"Nervous and happy at the same time?" I give her a dry look when she grabs a pack of gummy worms and throws it in the cart.

"Nervous because you want to get the very right thing for your girl. And happy because you can't wait to see her reaction to your gifts."

Damn. Is this girl the rock bottom whisperer?

Does she just find pathetic men at rock bottom and remind them of their current state?

Grumbling a non-coherent response that earns a loud chortle from her, she throws a few more items in the cart before we finally make our way to the self-checkout area.

"Do you have a picture of Jaya I can see?" Kianna asks me as I swipe the items and place them inside bags.

Eyeing her colorful, innocent frame with suspicion, I keep swiping. "Why?"

"If she's able to get to a grumpy dude like you, she must be special." She giggles at the glare I send her.

"Fine."

I grab my phone out of my back pocket and thumb through my photos until I settle on a picture I took of Jaya the first day she spent at my apartment.

In the photo, she's smiling adorably with her forkful of pasta right in front of her mouth. It was right after our Charming conversation, and I'd forced her to get seconds while she rolled her eyes at me with a smile on her face.

When she stuffed her fork with pasta and stared at it happily, my phone was in my hands and snapping the picture before I knew what I was doing. So focused on her food, she didn't even notice my actions.

Taking my entire phone from my hand, Kianna stares at the picture with a giggle. "She's very pretty. And she likes pasta, which means she's a nice person."

I huff out a laugh and finish scanning products until I'm finally swiping my credit card and paying for the items.

Accepting my phone back from Kianna, I point my head toward the bags containing the snacks that she picked out for herself.

"That bag has your payment snacks. Thank you for your help, Kianna."

She picks up the bag with a pep in her step, then smiles brightly at me with a salute. "Thank you, Mr. Finley. You turned out to be more mentally okay than I first thought."

Then with the clatter of her hair decorations obnoxiously loud, she skips back toward the store probably to find some other men wondering if they've hit rock bottom just so she can show them that, indeed, they have.