I learned the word ‘desensitization’ in the eighth grade, I think. I remember the teacher explaining to us that it’s technically what happens when someone has been in a situation, or exposed to something, long enough. It dulls the senses. It made sense to me then, especially when I went to the butcher shop and noticed the smell didn’t affect Steve one bit. He would stand behind the counter chopping and slicing through slabs of meat like they were nothing, while I had to do everything I could think of to keep my guts from spilling.

When I reached the homeless shelter like all other times before, I couldn’t understand how I didn’t get desensitized to life like this. The building was made of wood and old. It couldn’t withstand a disaster even of the smallest magnitude. Just standing on the outside stirred something inside, and with heavy feet, I trudged slowly up the concrete steps that chipped at the edges and cracked at the corners.

“Hi, Anna,” the rotund woman at the desk smiled and waved as I entered. She wore a pale blue dress squeezed so tightly around her the buttons threatened to pop. The wig she wore was pulled back to reveal graying hair at her hairline, and she quickly adjusted it when she saw me looking.

“Hey, Nica,” I replied, but I didn’t recognize the voice that answered. I coughed and patted my chest and then grunted. My other words were less scratchy. “Where are they?”

“I think they’re in the common room. Teresa isn’t doing so good,” she said sadly and came around the desk to meet me. “Maybe you should stick around for a while?”

My heart sank at the mention of my little sister’s name. She was only five and already plagued with an upper respiratory tract infection. She had terrible coughing fits, and was in constant need of medication that neither my mom nor I could consistently provide. I felt guilty because I had to leave them here, but what else could I do? We had been in and out of shelters for months. We had left a dingy apartment, riddled with cockroaches, pet dander from all the other flea-ridden animals some of the other tenants owned that ran free around the property, and mold. No wonder Teresa was sick, and the longer she stayed there, the worse she got. Mom had to make the hard decision to live week by week in homeless shelters and government homes. This was our third homeless shelter, and after a few weeks, they would have to leave again.

Nica’s voice was elevated like she was asking a question, but it was more of a suggestion.

“Maybe,” I lied, and quickly walked away.

There was no ‘sticking around.’ They would have to leave soon anyway. But one quick glance around the room told me I needed to—and that I couldn’t at the same time. The droopy eyes of the children as they cuddled next to their parents haunted me. The drapes that hung from their meatless bones were barely sufficient for clothing. The air was thick with the stench of puke, urine, and medicine, and I had the overwhelming feeling to hurl.

Mom had been relatively stable before, until she lost her job, and everything went to hell after that. She couldn’t afford the rent, and pretty soon we were shamefully evicted. She had struggled to get her life together, doing odd jobs here and there, making little that quickly ran out because we had to keep moving around. The following week would make three years we have been living like this, seeing sullen faces and sunken eyes, smelling disinfectant and bug spray day in and out, but even after all this time, I could never get desensitized to the faces or the smell.

Mom saw me before I reached her and signaled me over. I found it difficult to move when I saw her tear-stained cheeks. She held Teresa in her arms, and the girl coughed uncontrollably. Fear gripped my chest and I started hyperventilating. I understood then what Nica had meant when she suggested I stay a while longer. She thought Teresa would die.

I could hardly form the concept in my mind, much more accept it. This was my little sister, and she was only five. She can’t die here. I left because I thought I could help them more, but now, the pain in my chest told me I needed to stay.

When I found my legs, I hurried over and knelt beside Mom. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s getting worse,” she said sadly, quickly brushing fresh tears from the corner of her eye. “She’s been coughing since last night.”

“Is there anything I can do? Maybe get some medicine at the pharmacy?” I stared at her through eyes that begged her to tell me I could make her better.

“I’m afraid not,” she answered, crushing me in the process. “Nica gave her some antibiotics and something for the cough. But you know how it is here—they can’t keep it up.” She looked around at the other long faces occupying the room. “There are plenty people here. There’s not enough for everybody.”

“No.” I sighed and sank to the floor next to her feet. I could feel the strength draining from my body and grew limp. I felt Mom’s hand on top of my head as she stroked my hair.

“It’s all right,” she said, and I could hear the optimism in her voice. I couldn’t understand how she did it, and in some ways, I didn’t want to.

I gripped her hand and looked into her wrinkled face. She was only forty-five, but she looked much older. Her struggle with diabetes and hypertension coupled with Teresa’s illness added what looked like twenty years to her life. Her eyes were wrinkled, and her forehead boasted permanent creases that had been tattooed on by the stresses she had to live with. Her eyes were pale, but when I was around her, I felt her love.

I started crying, and as I whimpered, I felt her body shake. Teresa had stopped coughing long enough to give me a weak smile.

“Don’t cry, Anna,” she said in her angelic voice.

I smiled back through the tears and gripped her small fingers. I returned my gaze to Mom. “I think I should stay. You need the help.”

“No, my child,” she hastened to say, and her eyes were wild when she did. “You are helping. You’re no good to me here. You’d just get sick too, and I can’t take care of you. You have to go and take care of yourself now.” Her voice trembled when she spoke, and it tugged at my heart even more.

I understood what she was saying, and taking care of her and Teresa had been my motivation to leave. I would feel more at ease if they lived in a motel rather than here, or any other shelter. But the money I made as a housekeeper at the Sampson estate would never be enough to take them out of the shelter. I alone had escaped, and the guilt weighed me down.

“I’m going to help you, Mom, and you too,” I told Teresa. “I’ll bring you stuff every week.”

Mom smiled at me, but I could see she did not hinge her hope on me. Even though my leaving made her life harder, she was happy I had left.

“I know you’ll do the best you can,” she told me.

I had left the shelter a few months ago, the one before this, or was it the other? I had lost track of which one because there had been so many, but it didn’t matter which shelter because each visit weighed on me more. I dreaded leaving and receiving bad news, and I feared what would happen to Teresa if I left.

I couldn’t even think about it. I wanted to stay, but I couldn’t bear to be there any longer. I rose, and Teresa’s limp hand fell from mine. Tears blinded me as I watched her chest rising and falling in short succession. She was worse than the last time I had seen her. I caressed her cheek, and she closed her eyes and pressed against Mom’s chest. Mom wrapped her arm around her, rubbing her forearm in comfort as she did.

“I will come back,” I whispered, “and I will save us from this.” I didn’t know how I would fulfill that wish, and I could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe it either. It just felt like I couldn’t leave without even a promise of something better.

Mom smiled and kissed the top of Teresa’s head. “Take care, Anna,” she mouthed and smoothed the hair on Teresa’s forehead.

“Love you, Mom,” I mouthed back, and the tears sparkled in her eyes. She turned her head away, but it was too late. I had seen them, and they spurred mine into a full onslaught. I brushed them away vehemently as I hurried from that godforsaken place. I couldn’t understand how my life had become so difficult so quickly. And worse, I could see no way out.

I drove to the Sampson estate, and like all the other times before, I imagined it belonged to me. I would have a nice, long, black car, like the one Henrietta used. She was only eighteen and had to be driven everywhere, but she was nothing like the rich snobs I’d seen on TV. She was friendly and kind, and in a short space of time, we became good friends. In fact, she was my only friend, so reasonably the best one.

I gazed at the wide, open spaces and the lawn that stretched further than I could see. I imagined the pretty dresses Henrietta owned, the parties they threw for her—things I dreamed of having. But I knew it was just a dream I was constantly awakened from.

As soon as I opened the door and entered the foyer, Henrietta spotted me. “Anna!” she cried.

I quickly found a smile to replace my frown and hurried to meet her. “I just got back.”

“Come,” she told me and grabbed my hand. Anyone looking on would have thought we were sisters if they didn’t pay careful attention to the faded clothes I wore. She led me to her room where she began telling me about a party she was supposed to attend. She needed my help picking out an outfit, and walking into her bedroom-sized closet only added to my grief. I couldn’t maintain my façade any longer.

“What’s wrong?” she asked when she saw my lack of enthusiasm.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not in a good mood,” I told her and walked to the stool in the corner.

She followed me. “Is your mother all right?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. Teresa was coughing, and she seems to be getting worse. And I wanted to go back—”

“Don’t be silly,” Henrietta said, taking my hands as she, the daughter of millionaire parents – or maybe billionaires – knelt before me like she was servant. “You know you can’t help them there. Maybe this is how you can.”

“I know,” I whispered, as hot tears stung my eyes. “But what am I supposed to do? Leave them there to die?”

“No, I didn’t say that,” she said softly and rubbed her thumbs over the back of my hand. “But you could help them better with a job. Or maybe a rich husband.”

Henrietta was always playing around, and it was hard not to laugh a little over her suggestion. “I can’t even hope for that, Henrietta,” I replied. “A rich man wants a rich woman. Not a young, foolish, inexperienced girl who has nothing to offer him.”

“But that’s not all you are. Furthermore,” she said as she rested on the floor and twirled a lock of her golden hair, “what if he doesn’t know she isn’t rich until he is madly in love with her?” She had a strange gleam in her eye, and she hopped to her feet and pulled me behind her.

“Where are we going?” I asked her, but she didn’t answer.

In her bedroom, she scurried to the computer and plopped down in her chair. “One of my friends was telling me about this site where men go to meet women they want to marry.”

I arched my brow in disbelief. “What? You’re serious?”

“I am,” she said excitedly. “One of my mother’s friends got married this way. She just added her profile, someone messaged her, and they got married.”

“It can’t be as simple as that,” I protested, though she had piqued my interest. I moved closer so I could see the monitor.

“Well, you might have to tweak the details, but I’m sure this could work.” She beamed like her prospects were brightening rather than mine.

“What details?” I asked and leaned in closer. I squinted at the screen at the image of a man who looked like he could pass for a decent husband. I read his requirements for a bride—none of which matched me. “Henrietta, how am I supposed to pull this off?”

“Leave that to me,” she said sneakily.

“What are you doing?”

“First, we need a picture,” she said like I wasn’t there. She grabbed my hair and twisted my face about. “Maybe some make-up, a nice dress—”

“Henrietta!” I shouted. “Stop. I can’t do this. What do you think he’ll say when he sees me? One look and he’ll know I’m nothing like this person you’re trying to make me into.”

“Shush!” she insisted, and I knew from experience it was a waste of time to argue with her. She was headstrong, stubborn, and very determined. And right now, I was her pet project.

In minutes, she had me in one of her favorite white summer dresses. My face was made up, my lips a bold shade of red, and my hair boasted tresses and curls coiled at the top of my head. I hardly recognized the woman in the mirror, but I was impressed by her work.

She clapped her hands to her mouth as she swelled with pride. “He’d be a fool not to choose you.”

“He’d be a fool if he did,” I replied, even though my heart raced.

“Come, sit here,” she told me and pulled me to the easy chair close to her bedroom window. “Hold still.”

I felt paralyzed with fear and anxiety. My heart thumped so hard against my chest I got dizzy. “I don’t know about this,” I said eventually and rubbed my hands down the dress.

“Smile!” Henrietta commanded chirpily, and my mouth was forced open, almost involuntarily.

But one picture was not enough for her. No, we had to be convincing, so she grabbed my hand and dragged me into the garden, the sun room, and the pool side where she took one picture after another. I felt like I was in a dream, in her dream, a welcomed visitor with no control over this world. When she finished, we went back inside, where the other half of her work continued.

I sat on the stool next to the desk as she entered information and uploaded photos on to the fake profile. My curiosity got the better of me, and I went over to look at the woman I’d become. I couldn’t help swelling with pride when I saw my image on the background. I looked like a wealthy young woman who had recently come into my inheritance. I was a business owner and on the market for a man I could marry to maintain my fortune. It was like reading a novel, and I tried to wrap my head around the new me.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” I whispered over Henrietta’s shoulder.

“I know, right?” she grinned and cocked her head to the side. “Now, all we do is wait.”

I knitted my brows. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” she confirmed happily. “You will be married in no time.”

“But what about the name? Why Bolton?” I didn’t understand what her thought process was in changing my name. Surely he would figure out it was wrong, and then everything would come tumbling down.

“There are a lot of Boltons on this island and everywhere, so you could easily pass for one when he tries to check you out,” she said, like this was something she did every day.

“Oh. But how do you know he will check?”

She looked at me over her shoulder in wonderment. “He is a billionaire. Of course he’s going to check. He might even do a pre-nup, but that’s okay. As long as you get to spend his money while you’re married.”

Henrietta had it all figured out, and as she spoke I realized how little I knew about these things. I’m screwed!

She must have seen the panic on my face. She stood and clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she advised. “It’ll be fine.” And then she was off.

I was mute for minutes after she was gone, staring at the woman on the other side of the screen. Slowly I began scrolling through the profiles of some of the men who were already there, and I was instantly intimidated. It became even worse when I looked at some of the women who were now the competition. This wasn’t going to work. Just another pipe dream.

I stared at the screen for a long time, fully expecting something to happen. I was almost disappointed when the computer remained silent and the notification bell read zero messages. Depressed and spent from a long, emotional day, I got up and went to change and get ready for bed. Sleep was waiting for me, and instantly embraced me into a long and dreamless sleep.

Henrietta’s voice woke me the following morning as she flew into the room, her eyes wild with excitement as I tried to make mine catch up.

“Get up. You got a message!”

I was dazed and still half asleep – I didn’t get her meaning. “Uh? What?”

“The site. Someone messaged you.”

“The site? What…” The fog cleared in my brain and she began to make sense. “The site!” And my eyes evenly matched hers as all the possibilities immediately swirled before my mind’s eye. I flung the covers from me and dashed after her to her bedroom.

“Look!” she said, as she pointed at the man on the screen. “Not bad, huh?”

I was blown away by his handsome features, and my mouth instantly went dry. “What do I do now?” I felt like an idiot for asking. Of course, I was going to answer, but I was afraid of what would happen next.

I could feel my hands shaking and my palms getting damp with perspiration.

Henrietta handed me the PC and stood. “I think you’d better answer the man.”

She left the room. I sat for a good couple of minutes, wondering what I would say. My hands started moving seconds before I completely lost my nerve.