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22 Stains in

the Jesus Pool



Starring Suki as a lonely Party Girl

and Bob as the rich Sugar Daddy



“Stains is what happens when gravity meets opportunity meets religion meets the need to be redeemed for ones sins. This is smart and deadly.”

–Mexican Reaper Daily


In Quadraphonic Stereo





Suki dropped her cigarette into the wineglass and walked to the railing. She stared down at the kidney-shaped pool, wondering why someone had painted a picture of the Last Supper upon the pool's bottom. Even from her thirteenth floor balcony, the countenance of Jesus resonated with such an invitation to join that she was almost transfixed, the wide blue eyes imploring her to dive into a downward heaven.

"Come on, Suki. I was just kidding."

She ignored Bob's sonorous whine and leaned farther over the rail enough to make out several amorphous blotches on the bottom of the pool that marred the painting. Judas' entire face had been masked by a particularly dark spot. A similar darkness obscured Peter's breast.

"You should come back in," said Bob. "I'll order room service. Anything. Just come back in, Suki."

She leaned farther out, fearless in her desire to understand, one toe her anchor to the material world. She saw the side of the pool and the dark brown stains along the near edge. She held the wineglass out from her body, tried to gauge the distance, and then let it go. It struck the edge of the pool center-mass in the brown stains and shattered.

If she were to jump, she'd have to aim further out.

"I know I was an ass, but part of it's your fault."

"My fault?" she asked.

"You're the one who wanted to come here and f*ck with the Christians," he said.

"I'm not f*cking with the Christians. I just want to get away from them." She felt her anger rise as she cursed. They'd flown from Los Angeles to Zihuatanejo, Guerrero, Mexico this morning in a headlong rush to be free from the trappings of the most insane of holidays. They'd ended up, ironically, at the Hotel de la Cena Pasada — the Hotel of the Last Supper— a hotel venerating the last hours of the Christian God whose birth was currently being celebrated throughout the Western World. Even as they were ensconced in a hotel on the Pacific Coast of Mexico with Jesus as the main draw on Christmas Eve, she felt a freedom that she hadn't felt since she'd left Korea.

"But to think that they—"

"You know Bob," she said cutting him off. "Why the hell are you here?"

"Because I love you, Suki."

"Then leave me alone," she said, glaring down at Jesus.

"I can't."

"Then you don't love me."

"But I do."

"So tell me how loving me when I don't want you to love me isn't stalking me?" she asked.

"Then why did you tell me that you loved me?" he barked.

She'd met Bob six months ago when he'd come to her rescue. She'd made the mistake of professing her adoration one wine-inspired evening before moving into his Sunset Boulevard condominium. She'd regretted it ever since.

Suddenly a pool boy appeared beneath her. Noticing the glass near the pool's edge, he looked up. He saw her and shaded his eyes with his hand. The motion looked like a salute and made her smile. She saluted back, then watched him as he swept away the glass.

"Suki? Did you hear me?"

"Yes," she sighed.

"Then why don't you answer me?"

"There is no answer. It was a moment of weakness."

"I don't believe you, Suki. You told me you loved me. Love isn't something that you can just stop feeling."

"It is if you never meant it."

"I don't understand."

"You wouldn't," she said, returning to the suite's living room. She ignored Bob on the sofa, and walked straight to the bar. She pulled down another glass and filled it with an Australian Chardonnay. She drank half the glass, then made a decision.

"I'm going for a swim," she said.

"I'm coming too."

"Don't Bob. I want to be alone. I want some time to think." She cupped his face in her left hand. "Okay Bob?"

He stared at her with glistening eyes. Finally he nodded. Suki hurried to the bedroom and changed into a yellow string bikini. She grabbed a towel, her sunglasses and a magazine before hurrying out of the room and into the elevator.

This trip had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. A reaction to the uninterrupted bombardment of Christmas advertisements, Santa Clauses begging for cash in front of stores, multi-colored lights on sacrificed trees, and carolers with no sense of propriety. Not that Suki didn't appreciate a little bit of the strange Western tradition that Christmas had become, but enough was enough.

She'd been raised Buddhist, her village far from Western influences. Not until she'd gone to Seoul University, had she experienced the true strangeness of Western culture. Until then, she'd only seen it on television, or read about it in novels.

When she'd been offered a job in Los Angeles, her parents had begged her not to take it. Instead of following their wishes, Suki had lashed out, ultimately severing her ties with her father who didn't understand why she wanted so badly to leave.

Times like this, Suki wished she were back home, her father telling tales of the Japanese occupation, the raping of the trees, and the Americans who came to liberate them. Although he always spoke in reverential tones when he spoke of the war, she could tell that there was a chasm of guilt he'd never crossed. The fact that the proud people of Korea had needed the help of the Americans had been an anchor around the survivor's necks, holding them down like a ton of shame.

The pool boy was nowhere to be found. She spied an inviting chaise lounge, adjusted it so the sun wasn't in her eyes, and then reclined. She thought about reading her magazine, but tossed it aside as she closed her eyes and attempted to relax.

But her great secret, that terrible thing she'd done, played itself in her mind. Rage Against the Machine had played a private party that night last summer. She'd reveled in the excitement and the attention her exotic five-foot eight-inch Korean frame had commanded. At the afterhours party at the Viper Room she'd met the members of the band and several movie stars who were doing their own raging across the box office marquees. That special moment outside where she'd felt the still warm side-walk where River Phoenix had died of an overdose had been the perfect bookend to the evening, as she allowed herself to lament the loss of someone who could have been great. Then inside her Lexus, the old man crossing the street, trying to change the radio station, the car jumping as the tires rose and fell, and rose and fell, the old man behind her screaming and dying.

The memory sent her off the chaise and pacing along the length of the pool. Closer now, the stains she saw were deep and indelible. Some red, some brown, they looked all the world like bloodstains. The realization made her look upwards towards her room. She spied Bob staring down at her, and turned away. A row of lavender and white bougainvilleas grew on one side of the pool, hiding the view of the ocean. Tamarinds trees, their re-curving fruit hanging like bats, rose above the flowers, the thick branches acting as a wind block. The hotel sat on the other side of the pool. The image of 22 stories of rooms rising towards the heavens stayed with her. Twenty-two balconies rose above her. Twenty-two stains beneath her. She leaned down and felt one, the sensation similar to when she'd felt the place River Phoenix had died in front of the Viper Room. For a moment she stared transfixed at the stain, captured by the possibilities it all represented. "Suki, there you are," Bob said, shattering the moment. "I made reservations at La Playa. They're supposed to have langoustines to die for."

She stood, walked to the ladder and slipped silently into the water. She dove deep, drowning out his next words. She only rose when she ran out of breath. Daring to look around, she found that he'd gone.

Sighing, she vowed to end their relationship once and for all. She'd never meant for it to last as long as it had. Fear had been the bond that held them together. She began sidestroking the length of the pool, the rays of the dying sun casting red and gold hues onto the surface of the water.

Bob had followed her from the Viper Room that fateful night. He'd seen her deeds, and then found her in an alley, crying and retching into some trash cans. She'd been too distraught to drive, so he'd taken her home. So understanding at first, it wasn't until much later that she realized how insecure he was—how terribly clingy he was.

But still she'd stayed, feeling a sense of obligation to the man who'd saved her from some jail. But as time passed, so did the vividness of the event, until she'd reached the point where she understood her father and his own bitterness at being saved.

Definitely time to end the relationship. After this vacation, she'd make it official. She floated for a time, satisfied with her decision.

As the sun set, she began to hear the sounds of whispers. At first she mistook them for the wind, whispering through the bougainvillea and the tamarind trees. The bat-like seedpods rattled in the breeze. But the sounds she heard were more than that. Here and there she could make out words.

"God bless us all."

"¿Por qué soy alambique aquí?"

"Help...now."

"Gott speichern mich."

"Faça o batente ferindo."

"Please God."

"I don't want..."

The words were like echoes of something past, barely discernable. Some of the words weren't English. She recognized Spanish. She thought she recognized German. But the other language befuddled her.

As she dove deep, the words grew louder. She felt cold currents in the heated pool that shouldn't be there. Twirling numbness cascaded across her thighs. She suddenly felt uncomfortable and surged towards the ladder. She climbed out and snatched her towel from the chaise.

" Mi Señora. Don't do it. You are much too beautiful."

She whirled around and found herself face to face with the handsome young pool boy. "Don't do what?" she asked, a smile lifting her lips.

"Sacrificio," he said, drawing the word out in a reverent sigh.

"Sacrifice? What are you talking about?" she asked, cinching the towel around her waist.

"You are in the line," he said, lifting his chin towards the balconies. "You have bought the time."

She followed his gaze towards the balconies until she found her own. She remembered dropping the glass and it shattering upon one of the brown stains on the edge of the pool. Took more than a glass to make a stain. Her eyes widened when she finally realized the sources of the stains, then cinched closed as she wondered why so many. She regarded the young Mexican, her question in her eyes.

"You do not know?" he said. "How is this? You have the room. Much sought after, those rooms."

"There was a last minute change," she said, remembering the hassle she'd gone through just to find a room in the resort town. "Something about a storm over Dallas. All flights delayed."

The pool boy nodded sagely. "I understand." He chuckled. "This is his way. Some people choose Jesus. Jesus sometimes choose people."

"What the hell are you saying?" she asked.

"Jesus choose you to be here. You not know of the Jesus Pool, but arrive in time." The manager yelled something in Spanish, causing the pool boy to turn hastily away. He made to leave, but spoke over his shoulder. "Be sure you jump far. It takes much courage to find his embrace." And then he was gone, trotting past the manager's desk and into a stairwell.

She walked to the pool's edge and stared down at the face of Christianity. Dusk had fallen and the bottom of the pool had been lit by lights. She allowed her gaze to track the stains, then looked once again to the balconies. Most of them were now filled with people staring down at the pool. Several of them looked eager. Even more of them looked desperate.

***

They'd finished the langoustines, which had been sautéed in a garlic tamarind sauce. Suki's tongue still tingled with the complex fusion of flavors. The cabernet had a velvety taste and she sipped it now, pausing every now and then to taste the chocolate mousse she'd ordered for dessert. The meal had been so delicious that she'd barely noticed Bob and his incessant commentary. Bob smoked a Cuban cigar, occasionally sipping from his fifth Cosmo of the evening. Both of them stared across Zihuatanejo Bay at the lights aboard the ships anchored in the harbor where people celebrated Christmas the more traditional way. She heard snatches of Silent Night.

"I know you," said a black woman.

"Maven," said a thin black man, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Leave the young couple alone."

She shrugged free of the hand and stepped closer. "No Martin. I do know them. They're in our hotel." She pointed a wavering finger in Suki's direction. "Didn't I see you swimming, dearie?"

Suki frowned, her moment of satisfaction gone. Still, she remembered the woman's face from the balconies— a few floors above her own, if she remembered right.

"Oh Hello," said Suki

The woman mistook the salutation as an invitation. She grabbed the empty third chair at Suki's table and sat, her escort taking position behind her, his face set and sad.

"I knew I recognized you. I told Marvin that you were one of us, but he didn't believe me. Said you didn't have the look"

"One of us?" asked Bob.

"You know about the Jesus Pool, right?" asked Maven.

Before Bob could respond, Suki interjected, "we were late reservations. Our travel agent said the room was the only one available."

"Oh," said Maven.

"But we love the view," said Bob. "Really magnificent."

Maven and Martin gave Bob an odd look. “The Last Supper?” asked Maven.

“That too,” said Bob. “Odd to have that painted in the pool. Don’t you think?”

Maven shook her head slowly. “Then you don’t know.” She stood to go. “Just as well, I suppose.” She turned to leave.

“Wait,” said Suki, holding out her hand. “Don’t go,” she said, struggling to find a reason to keep the woman from leaving. “Let us buy you a drink.”

Maven stopped and turned. “That’s not necessary.”

Suki smiled. “Please. We don’t know anyone here. You’re the first people we’ve met. Let us buy you a drink.” Seeing the hesitation in the older woman’s eyes Suki added, “It’s the Christian thing to do.”

Maven grinned broadly. “Yes it is. Especially since tomorrow’s our Lord’s birthday. Come on Martin, let’s have one more drink.”

One drink became several. The foursome didn’t separate until eleven thirty. Martin and Maven hurried back to the hotel. Bob picked up the check, then they'd headed back towards the hotel. What Maven had spoken about had troubled Suki. Not just the level of belief, but the possibilities that the belief represented.

“I can’t believe you,” scoffed Bob once they were on the street. “Suddenly you're like Christian this and Christian that.”

Suki ignored Bob’s bellicose remarks. He wanted her to defend herself so that he could make fun of her. All she’d really done was open the door to some startling information. Maven had told them about all the places of power in Mexico like the shrine of Our Lady of Perpetual Succor which heals the sick.

"Some say that it was the older Indian influence that makes the Catholic shrines more powerful here, but only Jesus knows," Maven had said. Then she'd gone on to talk about the Basilica of our Lady of Guanajuato, the shrine of Our Lady of St. John of the Lakes in San Juan de Los Lagos, the shrine of our Lady of Zapopan, the Basilica of our Lady of Guadalupe, situated in Villa de Guadalupe Hidalgo just north of Mexico City, and then of course the Jesus Pool.

“I mean come on,” laughed Bob, throwing his arms into the air. “How can someone believe this shit? Just like when I was going to church. I could never get past talking bushes, walking on water, and the whole transubstantiation thing."

"You believed once, though," she found herself saying.

"I did, but I was stupid."

"If you believed once, then you could believe again," she said. Buddhism had been a way of life for her before she came to America, but was nothing like the way religion was practiced in America. "She said that it would be a guarantee of heaven. Doesn't that excite you? Doesn't that make you wonder just a little?"

"Not even a little," he said waving his hands. "It's all hoodoo voodoo."

"But aren't you afraid of Hell?" she asked, stopping so that he'd realize she was serious.

"No."

"Not even a little?" she asked. "I mean. What if you were wrong and there really was a Heaven and a Hell. What if just for helping me, you'd go to Hell. Wouldn't you want to make up for that?"

"You mean kill myself just in case there is a God? How crazy is that?"

How crazy was that indeed? As a Buddhist, Suki didn't believe in Heaven or Hell. She believed in karma, transmigration of the soul and Nirvana—the end to the suffering of living. She hadn't really thought about it before, but now she remembered the voices that she'd heard in the water—scraps of speech as if there'd been some sort of reverberation upon impact. Or even worse, perhaps their souls had never left and had been trying to communicate to her. Perhaps the whole thing was a lie. Perhaps Heaven was only fiction.

Several ambulances were parked in front of the hotel. The drivers were huddled by the first one in line, joking and sharing a cigarette. As Suki and Bob passed, the drivers became silent. A policeman stood at the front door. He checked their key, then allowed them to pass. Not until they walked into the lobby, did everything register.

"Only in the first moments of the day of his birth, do you have a chance," Maven had said. "We came last year, but I was too afraid."

They stepped into the pool area. All the chairs and tables had been cleared. The pool had been drained. Only the stains and the painting remained.

Suki looked up and sucked in her breath. From the first to the twenty-second floor, balconies teamed with people. Entire families filled up the small areas, all staring down at the Jesus Pool. The only empty balcony was their own.

"What the fu..." said Bob, censoring himself as his words carried over the space.

A movement caught Suki's gaze. A man climbed over the railing on the second floor. He stood in front of the railing, facing outwards, his hands gripping the railing behind him. About sixty years old and balding, his knees visibly shook. His wife put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. She said something, and although Suki couldn't hear it, she read the lips. We love you, Harry. Don't be afraid. We'll meet again in Heaven.

Suki suddenly looked at her watch. Five minutes to midnight. She grabbed Bob by the elbow and jerked him towards the elevator. "Come on. We need to hurry."

As soon as they got to the room, she ran to the balcony and opened the sliding glass window. She stepped to the rail and looked beneath her. With two minutes to go, each balcony held a man or woman standing in front of the railing. She looked up and saw the same. Theirs was the only balcony without people eager for redemption.

Maven stood two floors above her. The woman had confided in them that she had inoperable cancer. This was really her only chance for a sure thing. Maven released a hand from the rail, waved and smiled with nervous anticipation. Suki waved back.

Someone screamed, "Uno minuta."

Suki spun. "Bob, we have to do something."

"Do what?" he said.

"I don't know. But I can't stand here and have twenty-one people leap to their deaths."

"I don't know what we can do," he said, frowning.

"We have to do something," she said, rushing up and grabbing his shirt collar with both hands. "These people aren't going to Heaven. They don't go anywhere."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was swimming earlier, I heard them."

"You heard them?"

"I heard the souls. They spoke to me. They're trapped in the Jesus Pool, Bob. All of them, trapped forever."

"Ridiculous," he said. "How could they talk to you?"

"I don't know but they—"

Church bells interrupted them as the clock struck midnight, signaling a new day— Christmas Day. A scream was followed quickly by a sickly splat. "Jump for Jesus," shrieked Maven. Suki spun just as Maven passed her balcony. Suki ran towards the railing, Bob right beside her.

Maven lay sprawled in Jesus' arms. Several others lay beside her, their blood beginning to run together and collect on the bottom of the pool. The man named Harry didn't leap far enough. His head hit the edge of the pool. His body flopped, and then rolled, his smashed head coming to rest near Maven's feet.

A scream came from above. Suki and Bob barely jerked their heads back inside before two bodies passed them – a man and a woman diving head-first, embracing each other all the way down. When Suki heard their impact, she thought that she was going to be sick. She didn't even want to look anymore.

She watched as Bob looked up, then down as his gaze followed a descending man with a perfect swan dive form. Then Bob did something that absolutely stunned her. He laughed.

Turning around he pointed back over his shoulder. "Suki, get over here. You're missing it."

She gaped as he turned around to watch some more suicides. Remembering when she first met him as he ran up and helped her in the alley off Sunset, he'd had that same look on his face. Like a fanatic entertained by the event, he'd been more than a little wild-eyed as he'd tried to calm her down. She'd missed it then, but not now. And the realization sent the contents of her stomach into her throat.

Her emotions sizzled. Part of her wanted to run. Part of her wanted to scream. Another part wanted to make Bob stop. He'd been an anvil around her neck since she'd decided to drive home drunk that night. She'd never loved him. He'd taken advantage of her and had held her heart hostage.

And for what? Besides Bob, only she knew about her mistake.

Her karma was so screwed up that she'd spend several lifetimes making up for it. She ran up to Bob, reached down and gripped his ankles, then simultaneously pushed him forward as his Fubu sneakers lifted off the floor.

If there was a Heaven this was his only chance.

If this was his Hell, he deserved it.

Suki didn't even look as he collided in mid-air with a wheel chair descending from the twenty-second floor. She didn't do Heaven and she didn't do Christmas, but she promised herself that she'd return sometime next year and take a dip in the Jesus Pool, if nothing more than to listen to Maven and maybe chat with Bob.

She sat down in a chair facing the open balcony window and listened to the screams of the dying and the wails of the witnesses. She didn't move until dawn.

***

Story Notes: I saw a picture once of a swimming pool with a picture of Jesus on the bottom. I wondered to myself who would want to swim in such a thing. Was it disrespectful? But then I saw other pictures of children splashing, a woman lounging, and a man standing on the edge smoking a cigar, ignoring the fact that a 40-foot Jesus was beneath them. I had to wonder what it would be like swimming in such a pool. This was written as much to answer that question as it was for those people who steadfastly believe that if they do enough good at the end of their lives, it makes up for a lifetime of being bad. Suki vaguely resembles my sister. It’s true I was thinking of her when I wrote this, especially her sense of humor, but my sister is a much nicer person than Suki. I love this story. I think it’s one of my most honest.