Devil's Love

That Monday was the worst day of Christina’s life. The rebel inside her felt it might actually be the best, but the rest of her didn’t see it that way.

It started when her manager summoned her into his office. The time was a couple of minutes to nine. She’d barely had a moment to take off her spring jacket, the last birthday present from Justin before they’d stopped giving each other presents.

“I have to let you go,” her manager told her matter-of-factly, his steely eyes betraying not the slightest hint of regret. “It’s the corporate restructuring. My budget’s been slashed. Nothing I can do about it.” He asked her to tie up some loose ends and clear out her office by five o’clock—she would get severance pay in lieu of notice.

She accepted all this without argument. She wasn’t one to argue much, even when she was being wronged. God always set things right in the end, her churchgoing parents had raised her to believe. They’d also preached that God helped those who helped themselves. If you couldn’t help yourself and you had faith, they’d emphasized, God would still help you. If you lost your faith, though, the Devil would step in.

Christina no longer believed everything her parents had told her, but she’d kept her faith. She knew it was being tested.

She finished her work and said her goodbyes. Her fortunes didn’t take a turn until a quarter past five, when she was in the parking lot and her ageing car wouldn’t start. She’d had trouble starting it in her driveway that morning, and now it simply gave up the ghost. A tall, dark-haired fortysomething man who worked in the building beside hers gave her battery a boost. They’d seen each other before in the parking lot and the adjacent green space—she’d watched him taking photos of the flower bed—but this was the first time they’d talked. He introduced himself as Eric.

“My husband was supposed to change the battery,” she told him. She was sitting behind the wheel, her door open and the engine running. “He kept putting it off.”

She asked if there was a garage nearby that would do it for her right away, and Eric recommended a place. They didn’t have anything to write with, so she gave him her cell number and he texted the mechanic’s name and number. “Tell him I sent you,” he said.

“That’s nice of you,” she said.

“Let me know how things go,” he said. “Maybe we can get together for lunch or a coffee.”

“Sure,” she answered without thinking.

He asked if he could call her so that they could arrange something for later in the week. She said sure again.

Only after she drove off did it occur to her she wouldn’t be around for lunch or a coffee, that she’d have to make a special trip to see her new friend.

___

The big fight with Justin capped off the day.

After leaving him a voice mail saying she’d be home late, she proceeded to the garage and had a new battery installed in her car. She texted a thank-you note to Eric, then rushed home to prepare a noodle dish with cutlets. Justin wasn’t there, and for a good hour she and Rose, their eight-year-old, waited for him so they could have supper together—he was a supervisor in the police department and normally didn’t work this late. When he finally showed up, Rose had just gone to bed. That was when he broke the news about his girlfriend.

“I’m going to move in with Jenny,” he announced. “It’s time we got started on a divorce.”

At first Christina didn’t connect “we” with herself. She stared at her husband, speechless. She’d known about Jenny, a volunteer in the police department’s community liaison unit—given the state of their marriage, the idea of an open arrangement had gained tacit acceptance. But so far only Justin had taken action.

“I thought we had an agreement,” she objected when she’d collected herself. “I thought we were going to stay together until Rose finishes the school year and we can afford a divorce.”

She told him what had happened at work. He said he’d try to help her, that he’d ask his contacts about job openings. But he wasn’t going to let her derail his plans. 

Then her reluctance to argue went out the window and she turned on him. Over what she called his betrayal. Over what had gone wrong between them. Over the impact on Rose and their parents. Over his failure to do anything to save the marriage.

He fought back. They kept going at each other until Rose came downstairs and said she couldn’t sleep, they were making too much noise and it was scaring her.

“Are you going to stop being together?” she asked.

Christina held her and cried. Justin waited and then held her, too. But of course he didn’t cry. At least, not out loud.

“We’ll always love you,” he assured her.

Christina said the same thing. There were problems they needed to work out, she added, but their love for her was never going to change. She promised they would talk more when they weren’t so upset.

___

After Rose had gone back to bed, Christina’s misgivings got the better of her.

“We owe it to Rose to give it another try,” she implored her husband. “We owe it to ourselves, too. That’s what the lawyers are going to tell us.”

And then Justin delivered the final hammer blow: his girlfriend was pregnant. She’d tested positive just today.

“She wants to keep the baby,” he said. “I’m going to be there for her.”

“I guess that’s more important than being here for us,” Christina shot back. They exchanged another barrage of recriminations.

“So you’re really in love with her,” Christina said at one point. “And you’re really convinced she loves you. You really trust her. You’ve only known her for six months. Unless you’ve been lying about that, too.”

“What makes you think I shouldn’t trust her?”

She told him that getting knocked up, or pretending to be knocked up, was surely the oldest trick in the book when it came to pressuring a guy to marry you.

He left to spend the night at his girlfriend’s place. Christina got to bed at two that morning, exhausted yet unable to sleep.

___

Eric called the next day as she was scrolling through job listings on her laptop.

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” he said. He asked if she was free for dinner on Friday and suggested a restaurant he said she’d like. Part of her—the wary part that protected her from bad things, that believed God helped those who helped themselves—wondered if dinner wasn’t a little premature: they hadn’t had lunch or even a coffee. But when Eric asked if he should make a reservation for half past six, if that would give her enough time to get away from the office, she found herself saying yes. Only then did she think to mention that she’d lost her job.

“They didn’t give me any warning,” she elaborated.

“It’s their loss,” he replied. “They’re idiots.”

She was tempted to ask how he could say that—he knew nothing about her work and next to nothing about her. But it felt so good to hear him say it that she didn’t challenge him.

“They let me go the day you helped me with my car,” she said. “I was so…distracted I didn’t bring it up.”

“I totally understand,” he told her.

“So what’s this proposition?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you on Friday,” was all he would say.

___

Justin was gone when she woke up on Friday morning. He was still gone when she headed out to the restaurant at six that evening, after cooking a simple supper for Rose. He hadn’t called or left a message, and she didn’t bother calling or texting him.

The hurt and anger over his infidelity still festered inside her. If anything, the anger had intensified. She remembered a line in the Bible: Forgive them, for they know not what they do. But Justin knew what he was doing. He knew damn well.

She didn’t think she could ever forgive him.

___

The restaurant was an upscale Thai establishment with a cozy atmosphere and subdued lighting that lent itself to intimate conversations. She got there at six thirty sharp. Eric was waiting for her at the table he’d reserved.

He helped her take off her jacket. The simple act made her feel pampered, something she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“You picked a nice place,” she said.

“I come here every so often,” he said. “Usually on special occasions.”

“Is this a special occasion?”

He looked at her and smiled.

“I told you I had a proposition,” he said. “But I suggest we order first.”

While they waited for their entrees, she told him she’d had a job as a records administrator, that she’d been doing administrative work for most of the time she’d been married—coming up to ten years now. He said he was a bachelor “but not the dyed-in-the-wool kind.” He worked as a software developer for an IT company that had contracts with the multinational tech giants.

“I’ve heard of it,” Christina said when he mentioned the company’s name. “Aren’t they one of the big players in artificial intelligence?”

He confirmed they were.

“I keep hearing AI is going to take over the world,” she said. “It sounds like fascinating work.”

“That’s not what I really care about. My real passion is photography. I like to combine the two.”

“I’ve seen you taking pictures,” she said. “In the parking lot at work.”

“The flower bed. I tried to capture those vivid colors. Made some adjustments while I was at it.”

He pulled a tablet out of his blazer pocket and showed her a photograph that made the flowers look surreal, the colors were so saturated. The parking lot in the background was gone, replaced by an impeccably manicured garden that stretched to the horizon.

“That’s beautiful,” she said. “Did you use AI to change things?”

He nodded. “It was easy.”

“Those hyacinths and crocuses are more beautiful here than they are in real life,” she said.

He showed her other photos of flowers and gardens, then put the tablet away and looked at her earnestly.

“I’d like to take pictures of you, with your permission.”

She felt herself blushing. “Pictures of me? Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful, too.”

For the longest time she was too self-conscious and embarrassed to respond.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” he said. “But you really are.”

She shifted in her chair. “I’m just not used to hearing…things like that. Not from my husband, anyway. He makes me feel….” She couldn’t finish.

“It’s okay. Go on.”

“He told me he wants a divorce,” she blurted out. “He’s got a girlfriend.”

Eric’s eyes widened. He kept quiet.

“I was going to say he makes me feel ugly.” Christina continued. “Even though I know I’m really not.”

  Eric reached across the table, took her hand and squeezed it. She didn’t mind, not at all.

“He’s blind,” he said, holding on to her hand.

The waiter brought a bottle of Cabernet. As they sipped their wine Eric explained that the photos he’d take would be for the portfolio he showed to prospective clients, that she could keep copies for herself if she wanted to. He’d take them in the studio he’d set up in his condo.

“What I’m proposing is that you let me take pictures of you and we both make money from them,” he said. “We could do quite well if someone wanted you to be their model. I’ve got contacts at ad agencies. Every once in a while they hire me to be their photographer.”

“You’d pay me to be a model?”

He told her how much she could make.

“I’m sure the income would come in handy,” he said.

He mentioned some of the ad campaigns he’d worked on as a freelancer, stressed that he wouldn’t sell any pictures of her without her approval. They talked about this until the entrees arrived.

“Maybe some nice pictures will make your husband change his tune,” Eric said with a disarming grin.

“Maybe I don’t care if they do,” she said. “Maybe I’ll be happier without him.”

She was enjoying the buzz of the alcohol, feeling relaxed and emboldened even as an inner voice was telling her to slow down, that things were happening way too fast.

___

She could have spent the night with him—Justin would have gotten a taste of his own medicine. But by the time they left the restaurant she was perfectly sober and the cautious, faith-driven side of her was back in full control. She did agree to come to Eric’s studio at two on Saturday afternoon, the following day.

“Will you be able to make this disappear?” she asked after he’d escorted her to her car. She touched the small mole near the corner of her mouth.

“In the blink of an eye,” he said, and broke into that disarming grin again.

She thanked him for the dinner.

“It was nice to see you again,” she said.

“I was happy to see you, too.”

He kissed her on the mole, then on her waiting lips.

___

“I met someone,” she told Justin later that night.

Justin didn’t react at first. He was reading something on his phone, looking annoyed. In the old days they would have been in bed together by now.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

Justin put his phone down. “I heard you.”

“We had dinner tonight,” she said. “He’s a software developer in the building next to where I used to work. He helped me start my car and recommended the place that fixed it.”

“A software developer,” Justin echoed. “For one of those AI companies? There’s a bunch of them in that building.”

“He’s a photographer on the side. He’s going to take pictures of me. He’ll pay me for using them in ad campaigns.”

Justin gave her a skeptical look.

“Photography and AI,” he said. “A dangerous mixture.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He explained how AI was being used to manipulate photos and generate fake images, everything from official documents to online porn.

“I’m not saying your guy is into porn or anything illegal,” he went on. “But you hardly know him. And you don’t know who he’ll sell your pictures to.”

“You’re telling me my pictures could be doctored and end up on a porn site?”

“Or they could be posted on social media without your consent.”

“That seems pretty…unlikely.”

“I’m just warning you that kind of thing does happen. Not too long ago the sex crimes unit wrapped up a case where faked pictures of nude women were being used to extort big money.”

“I really doubt Eric is into anything like that,” she said.

And she did. But the warning had given her pause.

___

Before she went to bed, she fired up her laptop and did some research.

She couldn’t get any information on Eric since she didn’t have a last name to put in the search bar, but she did come across plenty of horror stories about AI and photography. One site showed how easy it was to transform images of people. The demonstration started with a photo of a fetching young woman in a business outfit—gray knee-length skirt and white blouse. She was sitting in front of a computer, just as Christina had done at her job. A colored dot appeared on the woman’s chair, then a second dot a short distance away and an arrow that emerged from the first dot and dragged it toward the second. The woman followed the movement, swiveling from her desk to face the camera. Another pair of dots appeared, one above her skirt and the other at the hemline, and while an arrow dragged the lower dot toward the upper one the skirt lifted, exposing her pubic area and the full length of her shapely legs. The demonstration ended as the legs began to spread.

Christina was staring at the screen in fascination and disgust when Justin stormed past her. He was clutching his phone and muttering under his breath.

“Jenny’s parents are visiting from out of town,” he said after she asked what was wrong. “She wants them to live with us until they find a retirement home they can afford. Hasn’t told me anything about this until now.”

“Uh-huh,” Christina said. “That’s how it can start.”

“How what can start?”

“Talk about being naïve,” she said.

“Let me guess. You think she’s interested in me because I’m her ticket to a better life. Not just for her but for her family.”

“That never occurred to you before?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t dismiss her warning. Just as she didn’t dismiss his.

They each went to bed with troubled minds, she in their bedroom and he in the guest room.

___

At breakfast on Saturday she wasn’t sure if she would show up at Eric’s place that afternoon or cancel. She remained undecided until lunch.

“Jenny asked me to chip in for her parents’ airfare,” Justin complained after another long session on his phone. “I’m starting to see where this is going.”

Christina was in the kitchen with him, heating up leftovers. Rose came in to join them.

“Who’s Jenny?” she asked.

Justin told her, and she burst into tears.

“Don’t move out,” she begged him. “Please don’t go.”

Christina hugged her. Justin seemed paralyzed at first, then snapped out if it and hugged her, too.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said at last. “I’m staying right here with you.”

It took Christina a moment to process his words. The next moment the floodgates opened and she, too, broke down in tears. Only this time they were tears of relief.

“I’m not going anywhere, either,” she said, feeling as if she’d just woken up from a very long, very bad dream. She could forgive Justin, after all—suddenly that wasn’t so hard.

They had lunch together. They talked things over. Rose had a thousand questions. Christina let Justin deal with most of them.

She debated what to tell Eric. And worried about how he would take it.

___

She called him after they’d eaten. He picked up on the first ring.

“I won’t be seeing you again,” she began. “I made a mistake. So did my husband. We’re keeping the family together. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

No immediate reply. The silence was full of hurt.

“I wasn’t going to take you away from your family,” he spoke up when she was about to ask if he was still there. “I just thought I might be able to help you. I thought we might be friends.”

She could have told him it wouldn’t work, that she didn’t need his friendship. That she didn’t want it because she knew he wanted more from her and she didn’t trust him. But she held her tongue.

“It’s okay,” he said glumly. “Maybe it’s better if we don’t…go any further. But if things change, call me.”

“They won’t change.” The coldness in her tone caught her by surprise.

“Let’s leave it open,” he said. “Even if you just want to talk, I’ll be here.”

She thanked him, and that was their last conversation.

___

It wasn’t the last time she heard his voice, though. Over the next few weeks, he left messages asking how she was doing, telling her he was thinking of her and reminding her to call him if she wanted to talk. He sounded increasingly distraught.

“I miss you,” he confessed in one voice mail. “Something magic happened between us and it’s changed me,” he said in another. “Please don’t disappear from my life,” he pleaded in the last one.

She sent him a message demanding that he stop calling and texting. After that he left her alone.

Meanwhile Jenny called Justin many times, also leaving messages. When he told her he was breaking off their relationship, she became agitated and tried to change his mind—she promised she’d make him happy, claimed the pregnancy test result had turned out to be false. She wouldn’t accept his decision, wouldn’t let go and move on. Eventually he lost patience and blocked her calls.

___

“I feel bad,” Christina confided to him once all contact with Eric and Jenny had ceased. “I can’t help thinking we were a bit cruel.”

“We did the right thing,” he said. He took her hand and squeezed it, exactly as Eric had done. “We can’t give in to emotional blackmail.”

That night, on his initiative, they made love. She was tired and slow to get aroused, and as they lay together on their bed afterward her mind drifted and she thought of Eric, of his kiss outside the restaurant. She felt a gentle nudge and saw that her husband was gazing at her.

“Still having second thoughts?” he asked.

Looking back at him, she told herself that they still loved each other, that she had nothing to feel bad about. That with God’s help they were going to keep the family together and nobody, not even the Devil, would be able to lead them astray.

“Forget what I said,” she finally answered. She managed a hopeful smile. “I know we did the right thing.”

She rolled over, closed her eyes, then said a silent prayer and crossed herself. Just to be on the safe side.

About the author: Rudy Kremberg is a Toronto-based writer and lifelong resident of the city. His short stories have run the gamut from mainstream drama to fantasy and horror, appearing in magazines and journals in the U.S., Canada, the U.K., Australia and New Zealand, as well as in various anthologies. His work has also been adapted for TV, broadcast on radio, and published in audiobook format. His nonfiction includes magazine articles on topics as diverse as medical research and gourmet cheese.