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I felt guilty, and I hadn’t even done anything.
I felt slightly cheap too, for not saying “hell no” right off the bat, but I didn’t feel that cheap.
Getting my loans paid off—and the possibility of having a house bought for me—enticed me a lot more than my morals would have ever expected. Then again, morals didn’t exactly mean much when you were shelving out what was a mortgage worth on loans each month. I lived in an apartment that would horrify my foster parents if they knew what it was like. My car was twelve years old. I kept my expenses to the absolute minimum, just to spend my money the way I needed to.
And then I started thinking to myself… if I did this, I would have to get divorced one day. I would have to tell my future husband—if there was one—that I’d been married once, and I would never, ever be able to tell him the truth as to why I’d done it. It wasn’t like I could lie and pretend it had never happened, even if it would be fake and in word only.
Was that cool? Was that fair? Maybe it was because my mom never married while I was young, but I’d always envisioned it as being this ultra-serious, special thing that not everyone got to do. A union of two people who decided they were going to tackle the world together—so you should be picky with whom you chose as your partner. ‘Til death do you part and all that stuff, otherwise you would just be wasting your life. Right?
When I wasn’t contemplating all that stuff, I asked myself what in the world I would tell the people in my life. They would know I was up to my neck in shit if I suddenly said I was marrying Aiden. I would have to bring up the loans if I told them the complete truth, and I would rather stick my hand in a boiling pot of water than do that.
It was all too much. Way too much.
And so, I finally picked up the phone and called the only person who I wouldn’t be able to fool with my lies. I couldn’t live with it any longer. I was tired, grumpier than ever, and I wasn’t focusing because I was too distracted. I needed to make a decision.
“Diana, would you marry someone for money?” I asked her out of the blue one afternoon when I called her during her lunch break.
Without missing a beat, she made a contemplative noise. “It depends. How much money?”
It was right then that I knew I’d called the wrong person. I should have dialed Oscar, my slightly younger brother, instead. He was the levelheaded one in my life, the basketball player studying mechanical engineering. He’d always been wise beyond his years. Diana… not so much.
I only told her the partial truth. “What if someone bought you a house?”
She “hmmed” and them “hmmed” a little more. “A nice house?”
“It wouldn’t be a mansion, you greedy whore, but I’m not talking about a dump or anything either.” I figured at least.
“All I had to do was marry someone, and they would buy me a nice house?” Later on, I could laugh over the entire situation leading up to this conversation, and how easily Di was considering it.
“Yes.”
“Would I have to do anything else?”
What else would there be? The marriage would just be to get his residency; it wouldn’t be a forever thing. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh.” Her tone perked up. “Sure. Why not?”
Sure. Why not. Good grief. I snorted.
“Wait a second. Why are you asking? Who’s doing it?” She finally chimed in, extremely interested.
When I was done explaining to her just about everything minus what had been my tipping point to quit, I waited for her sage—usually not so sage—advice.
What I got was: “Do it.”
“That’s it?” I scoffed. I was asking her for her opinion on a life-changing decision, and that was how she was going to respond?
“Sure. Why not? He has money, you know the worst things about him, and he’s willing to pay you. What do you have to think about?” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
She was definitely the wrong person to call for advice. “It’s illegal.”
“In that case, make sure you don’t get caught.”
Okay, Aiden Junior, I thought before she continued on.
“People do it all the time. Remember Felipa?” That was her cousin; how could I forget? “That Salvadoran guy she married paid her five thousand dollars. You might get a house, Vanny. You could be a little more grateful.”
Definitely the wrong person. “We’re not each other’s biggest fans.”
That had her exasperated. “You like almost everyone. He can’t exactly hate you if he’s asking you and not someone else. I’m sure he’d have bitches lining the block if he even remotely put in some effort.”
Her comment had me groaning. “You really think I should do it then?”
“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t. You don’t have a boyfriend. You have nothing to lose.”
She was making this too easy, making me feel dumb for not immediately jumping at the chance, but something had been lingering in my gut, and it wasn’t until she said the thing about bitches lining the block that I realized what it was. My pride. I cracked my knuckles. “I don’t know how I’d feel about being married and having my husband,” I almost choked on the word, “being with other people during. Even if it was fake. Someone would find out that we’d gotten married, and I don’t want to look like the poor idiot wife whose husband cheats on her and everyone knows.”
