fiction

Jesus Loves the Fat People
ni U Z. Elizerio

Pompom used her own soap when she washed her hands at public comfort rooms. "You'll catch AIDS touching things hundreds of people have handled."

Such as the soap container at Coffee Bends, her favorite caffeine factory. It was located one floor below the office of the Coalition of the Followers of Christ, where she worked as the executive assistant of the Pastor, so she could get her fix any time of the day. More importantly, it had a hand drier from hell. Pompom usually ate dinner at Coffee Bends. Thou shall not eat pasta with your hands dirty, the Lord God commanded. And ten out of ten doctors said: "Damp hands are breeding pits for germs."

Pompom felt cleaner when the drier scorched her hands. A few wads of Johnson and Johnson sanitary wipes and a good squirt of alcogel completed the task.

This ritual took a few minutes of her nights, and her prayers before and after dinner more. But only then would she feel safe to eat. Only clean would the Lord God find no reason to bring her death by e coli, or, worse, plague her with diarrhea.

That's what she thought anyway.

Unfortunately, women's thoughts weren't usually like God's.

"Good evening Ms Chua," Barbara said. "I mean-Mrs Chua-Sy." Her favorite waitress. Only she among the non-Christians knew.

Pompom made a Victoria 's secret gesture with her lips and forefinger. Barbara bowed and set down the pasta and Bloody Maryknoll on the table, aluminum sculpted and painted to look like a rock.

"Enjoy your meal," the waitress said. Other tables needed cleaning and other costumers needed serving but she just stood there, her waiting for Pompom's first taste and mmm of approval a nightly ceremony. Barbara waited. The pasta, however, remained untouched. "Is there a problem Ma'am?"

Pompom fingered her engagement ring. She was too young a twenty one year old but Arwin-well... Christian boys were different, and Arwin was very Christian. Before he proposed he gave her a book, the only book, besides the Bible, which Pompom had read again immediately after finishing. Of course, Arwin's book had pictures-"It's ok Bar. I just haven't washed my hands yet."

"There is something wrong with the comfort room."

"No, no," Pompom didn't want to be like those costumers who acted like they owned the place they ate at. "Someone's using it."

"Diarrhea!" Barbara mimed a gag. "I will investigate."

Pompom stood to stop her but the waitress had already gone off for the hunt.

Pompom sat down and stared at her only non-Christian friend's back. When that disappeared she stared at her pasta. When she was little her favorite game with her sister was a contest: who could finish eating her spaghetti the fastest? This game was played without hands. Cheer always won. Cheer, she got pregnant and married a Jehovah's Witness. He left his church too, that was emphasized, and they now claimed to be secular. The Lord God commanded forgiveness, seventy times seventy times, but Pompom found it hard to follow. Such infidelity!

Pompom brought her nose near the pasta. Cheer had won their games by drooling all over her spaghetti. She claimed that made the strands cling to her mouth and slide through her food pipe better. Pompom tried this saliva strategy once. She won the contest, but vomited afterwards.

She was not able to enjoy the candy prize.

Chimes brought her eyes to the door. She waved at the man who entered. Pastor Boy Sayson, Coalition unit head, Laguna base. He waved back and grinned. Pompom grabbed her Bloody Maryknoll (red mango juice really) and took a sip. The liquid went down with difficulty. It was as if her throat was being clogged by hair.

Pastor came and sat beside her. "Good work today, converting that, err-Iglesia ni Cristo?"

"Iglesia Watawat ng Lahi. INC members don't talk to us." Pompom smiled at him. "Pastor."

"This is a great school, Plato's." He smiled back. "What with this minimall just outside its gates, our own office so near the flock. It would be a waste ignoring the bleating of those lost sheep."

"The head of the Christian Brotherhood is set to write us a formal letter of pleading."

"They are that paranoid? Such little faith in their members!"

"After the C3 block conversion? Everybody's just making sure." Pompom felt her face red. She was one of the architects of their recovery of those thirty something lost souls. She and Susie.

"Don't look now, but this one's Catholic."

She turned to where the Pastor's snout was pointing. It was Barbara, strutting. "Shut up Boy," Pompom said. Then she added: "She is my friend, Pastor."

Pompom focused on the waitress, so she did not pay attention to her boss grabbing a fork. Pompom would have strangled anyone who touched her food, but Barbara's cross, graven image resting at a valley between breasts, was suddenly shining like the morning star. This was the first time Pompom noticed.

Barbara stood at attention in front of her. "Place clear, Ma'am." The waitress looked at the pastor, feigned surprise and made a sign of the cross.

"Sinful act, sinful hand," Pastor said. "Gehena is always an option."

Barbara whispered to Pompom: "I'll cut my hand off after I crush his throat with it." Then she walked away.

Pompom called after her: "Another pasta please." The pastor cleaned the plate with his finger (which he then stuck in his mouth). Pompom felt her stomach lurch. Creeping bile reached her tongue. She grabbed her Bloody Maryknoll and drained the glass. The liquid was like phlegm in her throat.

Pastor Boy said: "I saw Susie distributing leaflets outside during lunch time. And I got word that she has been contacting younger members." He grabbed Pompom's arm. "You must stop her." He buried her with a stare. "Do it quick." He pushed her away.

Pompom waved at Barbara and mouthed the word "juice." Then she realized that the Pastor had sauced her arm. She was dousing it with alcohol when he got up and left.

Pompom's eyes stayed with his back until he opened the Coffee Bends' doors. Out he went and in came Carmela. Her former disciple, now a discipler herself. A bleating goat from Bulacan, she was a shepherd would-be leader now.

She waved at Carmela and the three girls following her. They were all glasses and one was wearing a skirt. "Ang Dating Daan?" Pompom thought. She stood up to meet Carmela. They rubbed their cheeks against each other's.

"Pom, this is Dulce." Braces. "Miren." Mole. "And Jane." The girl in the skirt, also wearing make-up. Pompom taught Carmela well. They exchanged greetings of the Peace of Christ and the four went to a corner table. It was the new recruits who remembered the protocols. Elder members, Pompom knew, tended to focus on other aspects of the Coalition. She looked to Barbara's direction and waitress gestured five more minutes. She headed for the comfort room. On the way she saw more Coalition members, disciplers with their flock, recruiting lost souls, arguing against backsliders, pushing those with leadership potential. Itch was urging her to scratch her cheeks. Susie had been her discipler.

The door of Coffee Bends' comfort room for women had a picture of the Immaculate Heart of Mary on it (the men's had the Sacred Heart of Jesus). Youth for Christ members complained about this to the building's administrator. He was a Methodist, and said that the owners of Coffee Bends had freedom of expression. Pompom could not understand how Barbara could stand this desecration of her faith. "Pity, pity, pity." When she opened the door she pushed at Mary's forehead.

Inside she first locked the door behind her. She wrapped the doorknob with tissue paper. This was for later, so as not to get her just-washed hands soiled by whatever previous comfort room occupants left on the handle.

Then she made sure that no one was with her by opening the cubicle doors.

After that she got her soap out. Then she turned the faucet on. The initial burst of water from the pipes were known to be stale. Hence she counted to ten before washing her hands. She dug under her nails and squeezed her hands until they looked like raw porkchops. She was reaching for the soap when she noticed the cut in the middle of her right palm. Then she saw a similar hole in her left hand. They were wounds, and they were oozing with blood.

The sink became a basin of blood.

Pompom continued washing. She soaped her hands. Rinsed. Clapped under the hand drier's inferno. Still bleeding she turned the doorknob, held the door with her back while she threw her now-red handle-guard tissues into the trashcan. She feared not the mystery of what was happening but the possibility of infection.

What was waiting for her outside the comfort room was far worse than germs.

Someone was eating her pasta.

"Good evening Pompom Chua." Susie dela Rocha was fat with child. "Would you like to join me for dinner?"

As she saw Barbara dragging a security guard through Coffee Bends' doors Pompom realized that Susie had spoken the same words she gave as invitation five years ago. The night they became friends. Back when they were still freshmen.

Nina was always late. Late for classes, for assignments. She violated curfew and cancelled appointments at the last minute.

Nina was Pompom's only friend at Plato's Academy, her blockmate and her roommate. So even though she knew Nina wasn't coming she sat at their favorite table at MaoDonald's and waited.

She was fingering the crucifix of her necklace when a girl with a ring on each finger approached her.

They knew each other, they too were blockmates (amazing how many girls were taking Business Agriculture).

Susie sat across Pompom without asking permission. "Those will kill you, you know?" Susie pointed at her plate of Algerian fries and glass of Coke.

"And what do you eat here?"

Susie reached for Pompom's hand. "Please, don't be offended."

Pompom jerked her hand away. She was about to tell Susie to fuck herself when two girls approached them. Susie stood up and they exchanged kisses and the peace of Christ.

"This is Pompom Chua." The emphasis was on "this."

The girl whose hair covered most her face was Arnie. The elephant in elephant pants was SJ. They whispered among themselves for a while. Pompom tossed a couple of fries into her mouth.

Before the two left SJ told Susie: "You should invite her to our God Session tomorrow."

When they were alone Pompom gave Susie a raised eyebrow.

"My friends from the Coalition, them."

"A sorority?"

Susie laughed. "You could call it that. A sorority for the Lord."

Pompom cursed Nina for not arriving. She took a swig of Coke.

"You think we're corny, it's ok," Susie said. "It's written all over your face. No need to lie. But you really should come to our God Session tomorrow. It's great, singing-dancing for Jesus." Pompom watched her rummage through her bag. Out came a pamphlet. "Here, please."

Pompom took it. She considered using it as a coaster.

Susie was about to speak when Nina plopped down beside her. "Blockmate!" Nina gave her a hug. "You need to get out of here. Pom and I need to talk."

Susie stood up, patted Pompom's hand and said: "I hope to see you." She left.

Nina grabbed what remained of the Algerian fries and tossed them into her mouth. "Well, where's your gratitude?"

Pompom gave her a raised eyebrow.

"I saved you from the Christ freak."

"Thank you. Fuck you. Good bye." She headed for the exit.

Nina went after her.

She wanted to run. But she waited for Nina. They went to Nina's car at the parking lot. There they smoked.

"You left something in the car last night."

"I never leave things."

"It's in the back seat."

"I told you I never leave things." Pompom went to where she was told to go. There she found a box. She opened it. "Oh, Nina!" She ran to her friend and hugged her until the smoke came out of their ears. "Guitar strings! You know me so well!"

"I break your things, I replace them." Nina got her cellphone out. She handed it to Pompom. "Read the fifth message."

Pompom did as she was told. "Arwin Sy wants to go out with you?"

"Sixth message, sorry. Sixth."

"We have a gig!"

"Happy birthday."

And they were hugging again. "But the details. Where are we playing? For whom?"

"Funny you should ask that."

"We're playing at a funeral?"

"Worse, actually." Nina threw away a burning but and lit another stick. "At a Coalition God Session."

Pompom burst out laughing.

"I'm serious Pom. Anyway, it's good money."

"Yes. It is." They exchanged high fives. "Yet you still shat at Susie."

"The contract's already signed." Pompom raised an eyebrow. She was the Harbinger's, their band's, manager. "And she was annoying you," Nina said, smiling.

Pompom smiled back. "She was forcing me to read a leaflet." She faked a gag. "Self-righteous bitch."

"With good money."

"With good money."

Nina opened her car's front door. "Let us go then, you and I."

They got into the vehicle. "Where?"

"Anywhere but hear."

They drove around the town, for some minutes chased by cops around. Nina smoked and Pompom drank. Then Pompom smoked and Nina drank. They arrived at their dorm just before dawn.

"It's always darkest," Nina sing-sang by the gate. The guard, a man with big eyes and a big mouth, let them enter. They exchanged nods, Nina gave him a fifty and the two girls proceeded to bed.

"By the way," Pompom said as she hugged her stuff lizard, "when is this God Session?"

"Sunday." Nina was lying on her front.

"Isn't today Sunday?"

"We have three hours to sleep. The God Session starts at ten."

Pompom threw her lizard at Nina. "We'll be late!"

"They'll forgive us. They're Christians. It's what they do."

Milan (drums), Candy (vocals) and Rainer (maracas, Candy's big brother and the Harbinger's van's driver) arrived a little before eight. Pompom had already bathed. Nina would not wake.

"But she's breathing?" Milan came up while brother and sister stayed at the dorm's parking lot.

"Take a look for yourself!" For the fifth time Pompom gestured at Nina's rising and falling chest.

"Then Rainer will play rhythm."

"That's betraying Nina."

"The Coalition's God Sessions are held every Sunday and Thursday. They pay good money. We don't want to ruin a reputation we're just starting to build." Milan was leaving. "It's Nina or the band, Pom."

She went with the van. Inside they practiced Jesus songs (Gary Valenciano's "Natutulog Ba ang Diyos?" was a Coalition favorite) and Pompom practiced with her new strings. "She'll get mad at me."

Her bandmates nodded.

And all the time that they were playing she thought of Nina. At the comfort room during breaks it was her friend's face she saw in the mirror. Coalition members went in twos and threes and fours and Pompom was alone.

Harbinger went to MaoDonald's for lunch. She stayed behind to watch her patrons eat and pray. There were some two hundred of them at the auditorium, and they used four gray long tables. Pompom sat by the platform, cuddling her guitar.

"You can't eat that, you know." Susie. She had approached her from behind.

She started strumming. "I'm full."

"You can eat all you want, here. Jesus loves everybody. Even fat people." Susie led her to a table. "You remember SJ and Annie? The other forty seven you'll only get to know if you become a member."

Everybody who heard laughed. The joke was passed around and soon the whole table was laughing. And then the laughter spread to the other tables. Instead of bashing them with her guitar Pompom sat and ate with the Followers of Christ.

"So," a girl, with skin so tight her skull looked like it was popping out, turned to her, "to what Church do you belong?"

Pompom burped. "I tell the tricycle driver 'Holy Family' and he knows where to take me."

"I mean," the girl said, "to what denomination do you owe allegiance?"

She gave the girl a raised eyebrow. She had never heard "allegiance" used in a sentence. "I'm a Christian. Nominal."

"Christian? You mean Catholic."

Nodding.

"Susie will speak to you after the Session." Skull Face handed her a leaflet. "If that's all right with you."

More nodding. Pompom continued eating.

The God Session lasted all day and the Harbinger played all day and Susie insisted on talking about Jesus afterwards.

Pompom was all sweaty and "sin," "salvation" and related words kept buzzing in her head when she arrived at her room. Inside was Nina, plucking at a guitar.

An exchange of nods. Pompom set her guitar down and went to sleep.

When she woke up Nina wasn't there. There was a message in her inbox but it wasn't from Nina. All day she sought Nina. She found her not. When night fell she found herself the personification of perspiration, standing at MaoDonald's doors. Inside was Nina, eating with a horde. Twenty texts and even a call, and she didn't get an answer. Pompom wanted to confront her friend. Pompom did not have the strength.

She went inside the minimall and found herself sitting at a corner table of Coffee Bends. She ordered pasta.

She fingered the cross of her necklace, crossed herself, prayed, and was about to eat when Susie plopped down in front of her.

She put her hand on Pompom's. "You didn't text back."

"Good morning. Too."

They both laughed.

"May I join you?" Susie's hand was still on hers.

She let it stay there. "You have to eat, too."

"I'm sorry. I've just eaten."

Pompom gave her a raised eyebrow. "Dinner number two. Don't worry, Jesus will still love even if you reach five hundred pounds."

Susie ordered pasta as well. And they talked all night, about every conceivable topic except Jesus. And after dinner they strolled around Plato's park. Well past midnight Susie walked her to her dorm.

"Come to the God Session."

"Another gig? That's great! Nina will be thrilled!"

Susie shook her head. "Not to play. To pray."

"Jesus Christ."

Susie kissed her on the forehead and walked away.

Pompom gave a fifty to the security guard who opened the dorm's gate for her. He was shaking his head too.

Nina was there when she got into bed but wasn't when she woke up. Pompom took a shit, after which she scanned her planner. An assignment was due the next day, so she took out her duplicate key to Nina's drawer to bring out Nina's laptop. It was pink, the drawer. Their favorite color.

She finished her paper and they avoided each other all week.

Midweek she alone in their room again when a message came to her cellphone. Pompom kept thinking "Nina, Nina, Nina" as she opened her inbox. The sender's number wasn't saved on her phone. Still thinking "Nina, Nina, Nina" she began reading the text.

"God Session tomorrow. Pick you up in the afternoon?"

Pompom erased the message and cried, but she was all dressed up when Susie arrived the next day.

The God Session, like the one their band played at, had some two hundred attendants. Most of them knew Susie. Pompom's saliva dried up, having had to greet everybody her companion introduced her to. All those upper classmen shaking her hand! And some even kissing her on the cheeks!

"This is where you belong," Susie told her after the dancing, singing and praying.

"Belong? At a coffee shop? I don't even drink coffee." Her Americano was untouched. They were at Coffee Bends and Pompom had just agreed to become Susie's disciple.

Her discipler laughed and took her hand. "Among God's people, I mean."

She nodded.

"Now, about that cross-"

Pompom remembered she had another paper due, for her Sociology of Religion class this time. She gave Susie a raised eyebrow.

"And your smoking. See, the body is the temple-"

Pompom gulped down her Americano and stormed out of Coffee Bends. At the dorm Nina was asleep so she climbed onto her bed and cried quietly.

When she woke up her friend had already left. There were text messages from Susie but she erased them without reading them. She wanted to take a shit but thought it better to do her paper first. She got duplicate key out and was about to put in the hole when she noticed that the drawer where Nina kept the laptop was gone and in its place was a purple one.

That afternoon Pompom formally joined the Coalition of the Followers of Christ. During the sem break she was baptized in a swimming pool. The next semester Susie became her roommate. She never talked to Nina again, not even when her friend got impregnated by a teacher during their senior year and had to drop out. They got married, Pompom heard from mutual acquaintances, and he treated her well.

"I did not ask you out for dinner."

"Are you telling me I'm senile?"

"I'm not saying anything like that."

"What are you saying?"

They were at MaoDonald's, sharing a pile of Algerian fries and a tub of Coke. Susie had broken a security guard's nose and was in a triumphant mood. Pompom had just sent a text message to the Pastor, who, she thought, had most probably called the police.

"Stop rubbing your hands together. You're spreading oil over them."

"Can't I go to the CR now?"

"You can, after they take me away."

Pompom winced. "How did you know?"

Potatoes flew from Susie's mouth. "I was your discipler. I can still read your face."

"And you'll just wait there?"

"I'll put up a fight. Trying to get into the news. Get at least the Academy's rector to notice."

"Notice what? That you're crazy?"

Susie patted her stomach. "Pom, Pom, Pom, still a freshman at heart?"

Pompom put her hands at her sides. They were bleeding again.

"The oil will infect your wounds."

"Are you trying to scare me?"

"This is beginning to sound like a confession," Susie said. "I'll finish the fries."

"That's bad for the baby." Pompom swiped the plate of potatoes off the table. "You're fat enough as it is."

They kept quiet for a while. It was nearing midnight, and they and a couple at a corner table were the only ones there. The crew and manager were sleeping by the counters, waiting.

"Why did you do it?"

Susie snorted. "I loved him."

"It's against God's commandments to have intercourse outside of wedlock."

"Still a freshman at heart." Susie shook her head.

"It's a sin!"

"If you're caught, yes." Susie slammed her hand on the table, causing the Coke to jump and spill all over. "So we didn't use modern methods. So Catholic rhythm trick doesn't work. Why did I have to get kicked out of the Coalition?"

"Because you are a sinner and we are Christians!"

"You wool-headed ass."

It was Pompom's turn to snort. "When last we met, you were the discipler, and I the disciple. Now I am the discipler."

"And I'm a disciple of evil?"

"You seduced the Pastor."

Susie laughed. After a while, Pompom joined her. "The police are here. So is your Pastor. The victim." Susie stood up and poured the remaining Coke on Pompom's head. "Just tell me one thing, is money involved? Or is it pure love?"

Pompom shook her head. "I did it for the Lord."

"Fat bastard." Susie charged at the police. Pastor Boy Sayson took Pompom back to Coffee Bends.

Barbara did not have to be told. She prepared pasta and a Bloody Maryknoll at once.

"Go to the comfort room," the Pastor said, "go to the comfort room."

Pompom went where she was told. She pushed at Mama Mary's heart to open the CR's door. Locked it and left tissue paper on the knob. She looked for feet through the bottom of the cubicle doors, and finding none turned faucet sink on. She brought her soap out and washed her hands (which, miraculously, had stopped bleeding), her face and her hair.

Feeling cleaner than she had for months, she crouched under the hand drier. With eyes closed and water dripping from her head she felt the air purge the wet from her hair.

"Was it true," she thought, "what Susie's pamphlets said about the pastor?" She threw them away after reading. "But then, what was truth?"

Her top dry she stood straight and positioned her hands.

The heat from the drier became stronger.

Minutes passed and pain replaced the heat. Pompom opened her eyes and saw her hands were burnt, black pulps at the end of her arms, embers glowing. She kicked the comfort room's door open and ran into the middle of Coffee Bends, where some twenty Followers of Christ the Pastor had gathered were waiting to congratulate her for her contributions in cleaning the name of the Coalition. Pompom had just enough strength to see her charcoal hands fall apart before she crumbled and joined them on the floor.

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